It was a day that started like any other. There were laptops, freshly-brewed coffee, Utah Shakespeare Festival programs, fake flowers in a whiskey bottle, and a pineapple.
And so, with a gorgeous Cedar City day stretching ahead of us, we did what any people who are willing to acquiesce to my novelty-driven whims normal people would do:
We went to IHOP for pancakes. Pancakes for lunch. (I love you, ‘Murcah.)
As someone who has never much liked pancakes (they make me feel like I’ve swallowed a doona; give me a waffle instead any day [is what I thought]), my passionate desire to experience the fluoro-bright world of IHOP was as unexpected as it was sudden.
My plate of whole wheat pancakes with blueberries, eggs, and turkey bacon descended on the table to much applause (okay, so probably I only clapped in my imagination). The pancakes were fluffy yet hearty, and I enjoyed drawing from my childhood Dutch Baby Pancake memories by sprinkling lemon and sugar instead of syrup over the stack.
Even better, I finished the whole plate without feeling like I’d eaten an eiderdown.
Sam ordered the French toast with turkey bacon, egg whites, and an unwanted side of fruit that was promptly moved as far from his person as possible. His only comment was that it would’ve been better with peanut butter (okay, so probably it was only me who said that in my imagination… right now).
Matt also went for a French toast combo, thus creating an IHOP gender binary that existed for no longer than the time it took us to eat our meal.
Hearts and souls happily fed with the glorious combination of salty, sweet, protein, carbs, bottomless coffee, and friendship, we farewelled the harsh lighting of IHOP’s interior and returned home to win complete victory in the game that all normal people should play after a pancake lunch:
Stuff On My Cat.