Yes, I Ate My Napkin. Deal With It.

*** continued from previous post ***


"What are you going to get babe?", I say, and turn the page of the menu to the 'specials' section.

"One of everything.", Mom says from behind her menu.

"Get two of everything - we'll share."

That made her smile. I love watching your Mom smile, her blue eyes twinkle and her entire face brightens. After all these years the sight still catches my heart. "Look here," I point to the "Good Morning!" special. "They have a breakfast buffet!"

Your mother, as a general rule, hates buffets. She's lacking the 'glutton gene'. It's a huge drawback in our relationship, but one I'm willing to overlook primarily because I get to finish her steaks.

"You know, that actually sounds good this morning. If they have waffles I think I'll give that a try. I've been craving waffles," she says, with an evil little grin blossoming. "You know, we could have had hot, toasty waffles earlier this morning, but you'll remember - we had to pack light."

For some reason this made a lump grow in my throat. Why would this make me so emotional? As I began to black out I realized that in a hunger-induced stupor I had eaten my napkin. Again. A nice glass of water fixed that.

Our waitress floated over to our table with coffee for me and a steaming hot tea for your Mother.

"Are you folks ready to order?" she asked, setting our drinks on the table from the tray she carried.

"How is your breakfast buffet?"

"Oh," she said refilling our water glasses, "very popular and very good. All of the usual breakfast stuff, a wide array of breakfast meats plus some very nice freshly baked cinnamon rolls, danish, and some wonderfully fresh locally grown fruit."

"By any chance do you have waffles?" I ask on behalf of your Mother. As for me I'd already decided. She had me at "meats".

"We do! We have a waffle maker, and some delicious strawberries and whipped cream if you want."

I think I actually saw your Mom drool. "We'll both have the buffet," Mom added quickly, as if the waffles were going to evaporate before she could get the sentence out of her mouth.

"Okay," Denise - for that was the name stitched on her prison uniform - said, taking our menus. "Plates are out there," she pointed to the atrium, "help yourself when you're ready."


*** the journey continues tomorrow. Commenters will be prosecuted. ***