So I'm sitting here to do a Throwback Thursday post, because it's been a few weeks since I last did one, and I'm realizing what the problem is. The problem at the moment is that the todo list is fairly long and it has some big time-consuming items on it, as well as a whole lot of little things, and so I'm just trying to get stuff done. And that's just not conducive to Throwback Thursday, now is it? Throwback Thursday is a time to think and reflect on something from the past and my brain is busy going, okay, get this done so you can get that done and then there'll be time for this other thing, oh and that one has to be done asap so I should be working on that even though I could cross off like six little items if I did them instead and and and of course the boy s are all going, me! write me next! write me now! hello? Wouldn't you rather be writing?
You see? Some days there is not a lot of room in there for reflection about the past...
How about a memory about pancakes?
Once in a blue moon (never often enough) my mother would make pancakes for Sunday lunch. She made Danish pancakes, which are a lot like crepes, in that they are very thin - in fact the thinner the better, but they weren't as large, they'd be dessert plate sized.
So she would make the pancakes and everyone else would set the table, put out all the different things we were going to have on the pancakes (my favorite was always homemade strawberry jam). Then we'd all sit and wait, chatting together, or reading or otherwise filling up the rest of the half hour or so it took for my mom to finish making the pancakes.
Finally, she'd take the warming plate out of the oven and put the last pancake on top and we would fall on them like starving ravagers.
I'd spread the jam on my pancake, then put my fork through a side near the edge and roll the pancake up, then maybe put a bit of sugar on the outside, and cut and eat. I'm drooling just thinking about it. I'd have all of mine the same way (usually three or four) although every now and then I'd just put butter on it (i loved the way the hot pancake would melt the butter) and some brown sugar. There was no conversation while we ate our pancakes. And then bam, they were all gone.
A half hour plus to make, three point five minutes to devour. Was it any wonder my mother only made these rarely? Of course they were an even bigger treat because they didn't happen very often.
I've made them myself, but it's just not the same as when my mother did them.
smut fixes everything
where the naughty boys come and play