Sorry for the lack of updates lately(take down those balloons and streamers) but I went and saw the screening for the Potatoes have Eyes and lapsed into a coma. Actually that's the not the truth, I've been busy with a new job, I was hired as an excuse writer for the all the Canadian Olympic broadcasters, and boy are my hands tired. This evening I'd like to take you back in the way back machine on yet another journey to when I was a lad, and I heard those magical words, we're having pancakes for supper. It was then I was introduced to the tradition of Pancake Tuesday, I'm not sure how or when this tradition got started so I'm gonna do what I do best, and make stuff up. Pancakes originally became famous at the Last Supper, when Jesus performed the miracle of turning water into batter. This miracle backfired when after a bountiful feast of the sacred flapjack he became logy and was easily caught by Pontius Pilot and his men.
The excitement of Pancake day would then turn to confusion, as often times I would find foreign objects in those fluffy golden spheres of deliciousness. My mother would explain that whatever I found would be what I would became when I grew up, such as if I found money I would be rich, or if I found a nail I would be in a hospital, I probably should have not swallowed that nail, but you try and turn down something that is covered in syrup. As I grow older I began to think about this so-called tradition. Growing up I had heard stories, nasty rumors that my arrival into this world ruined the perfect sharing of the then popular drink, oka-dokas amongst my three older siblings. Maybe this was no tradition at all, maybe it was a ploy to get me out of the way so they could revel in their two oka-dokas a piece. I know what your thinking, I'm just paranoid, but oka-dokas were a fine beverage, I know a guy who literally gave his right arm for one, of course he was a leper, we all tried to get him off the stuff, interventions wouldn't work, you know what they say, a leper won't change his spots.
The pancake is still revered today as it ever was, internationally there are houses, temples shall we say, devoted to the worship of pancakes. I as a feeble minded boy would often eat and eat of those pancakes till I was blue in the face, mostly cause I was choking on something that mom had put in there, again the syrup thing. As I look back at the moments before the gagging I can see not just the anticipation on my face on devouring the pancake, but the odd looks of anticipation on my siblings face as well. I was only young then but to this day I can sense a disappointment when I finished my whole plate of pancakes, or when I coughed up the nail, I think I even remember hearing a chorus of sighs as I was handed an oka doka to wash them down with.
I kid of course, my family would never be that mailicious, okay maybe Kelly she had a mean streak, but those days are ruined by the fact that I'm now almost thirty, I'm a bachelor, and if I want I can have pancakes for supper every day, so it loses it's specialness. Hell if I wanted to I could eat pancakes every day, for every meal until I inevitably slipped into dementia, walking around screaming YOU AIN'T GOT NO PANCAKE MIX.............YOU AIN'T GO NO PANCAKE MIX. Perhaps it could be that I could never make a pancake as good as my mom's, once you learned to eat around the foreign object, it was all smooth sailing from there.
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