I woke up this morning to the smell of bacon (a wonderful smell for us meat eaters). My mom decided that as a parting gesture she would make a delicious waffle breakfast complete with bacon. About halfway through cooking an entire package of bacon in the oven it became apparent that something (suprise suprise) was going slightly askew. Somehow, instead of dripping into the catch pan as it should, the bacon grease was leaking its way out of the bottom of the oven door, down the outside of the drawer under the oven, and pooling on the floor, where it was then walked through and spread across the kitchen floor. Upon discovery, the pool of grease was mopped up the best it could be, and tea towels were laid out over the now very greasy area in front of the stove, the other half of the package of bacon was cooked up, and my mom swore that never again would she buy uncooked bacon. A total clean up, however, would have to wait- there were waffles that had to be made!
Making waffles from scratch is one of those things that very rarely goes off without a hitch, and today was no exception. Usually the waffles will end up sticking the waffle press, or something about the batter won’t be quite right, or your mother will decide to burn her fingers on the waffle press handle. Today it was the later.
Fast forward a bit and it is time to take me to the airport. I must say (and I am quite proud of this) that thus far I have not cried about leaving. I managed to avoid a complete break down while saying good-bye to my Grandma yesturday. Today Lisa and I say our quick good-byes before she took off into the basement to have a melt down. I however, did not cry. The drop off at the airport also goes uneventfully, with my parents making a hasty retreat so as not to start a chain reaction of crying at the airport.
After waiting in line for what seemed like forever, it is finally my turn to check in. The lady asks me where I am headed, and then informs me that my flight has been delayed. "Not a problem," I think to myself "that just means a shorter layover time in
"Well," she says "you have two options. Number 1: you stay here for 3 and a half hours, get on the flight to
Well the choice seemed clear enough. Stay in a
"We were in such a hurry to leave and not be the first to cry we forgot to take the towel [the one that I had been using to cover Cleo's travel bag so that she wouldnt catch a draft] throw it out if it is too much to carry around"I couldn't help but laugh out loud. And so, an hour and a half after dropping me off at the airport, my parents picked me and Cleo (and the towel) back up. I walked out to the van with a $100 travel voucher ("For any inconvenience this may have caused...") and The Ramones' "I wanna be sedated" running through my head...
"Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated
Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated
Just get me to the airport put me on a plane
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane
Just get me to the airport put me on a plane
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane
I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain
Oh no no no no no..."
Oh no no no no no..."
