White pants—and more offensively, shoes—are emerging from their hibernation. Calendar pages are turning. My hair is frizzing. No more pencils. No more books. No more teachers’ dirty looks. All evidence we’re amidst seasonal transition. Less apparent to the naked eye—despite greater nakedness everywhere else—are other surefire indications. Most demonstratively perhaps, in my purse.
Last week as I extracted a slide-closure bag (why splurge on name-brands when it comes to bags of that variety?) packed with pancakes from my pocketbook, I had my “eureka” moment. It’s official.
Summer is here.
How so? Who has time to make pancakes before school during the academic year? Especially in our house—with the twin-insistent requests for chocolate chips before they can even make it to their
destination within the in-griddle batter circles. Plus the fact that we had enough time to generate such voluminous numbers of flapjacks to the point where bag-fulls would be leftover? Morning maintenance
is less-demanding. The clock is no longer such an evil dictator.
But why pancakes in the purse? Two words: Canadian Geese. The avian panhandlers strategically work the man-made, mall parking lot “pond” alongside our local Panera Bread. I’m quite certain the