Thunderstorms

Alright, so honesty up front. The thunderstorms didn’t hit until we were safe at home, but the BBQ was had under the rain, and it would have been like we were back home, except it was actually warm, and the rain was gorgeous, and the thunder was absolutely amazing. 

Today started off nice and easy. Sam and I performed a speedy getaway in the morning for something I crave, always, with bacon and butter and poached eggs. Pancakes. We were out the door by 9am (I can be dead on time when pancakes are on the line) and sat at ihop by 9:30. My trademark morning rage was quickly substituted by a building manic happiness as pancake-land (aka ihop) filled me with energy. Pancakes. My dream. My life. My fuel. 

For those who know me, you’ll know I’m a bit of a health chaser. Not necessarily obsessively, but I’ve been brought up on the Mediterranean diet, I like knowing where my food comes from (particularly my meat) and I have very high standards in terms of how food makes me feel once I’ve eaten it. I love a brownie, adore my piña coladas, and nibble on popcorn like the cookie monster nibbles on cookies. And have you ever had white chocolate rounds? Oh boy. Oh boy. So I’m not a snob… But I am a snob. And when it comes to pancakes, I’ve become a little bit particular. When I say pancakes, let’s be clear, I mean all American-style, fluff-beasts, banana-filled pancakes. Sam makes a mean set of pancakes, like, some of the best pancakes I’ve had in a while. Consistency has been reached, and I can happily say I would sell his services to others, did I not want them to myself and myself only. the pancakes at shop are not half as good. But there is something about pancakes in America, in a pancake house, that is just a little special. And everyone is always so nice here. Anyway. All in all, it was a very successful experience. 

We ambled back to the house, for our 10:30 appointment with Captain Roger, and got very much distracted by three or four vultures circling. “We’re gonna die!” I yelled. “They smell the pancakes, they want them!” With a skeptical glance from Sam, I quickly quietened my concerns. He’d be sorry when they came a-pecking. And they did. Swooped right down, pouncing on the rabbit carcass 20 or so feet behind us. Not pancake-vores after all, I suppose. Their loss. 

The plan for the day was a relaxing stay at Orange Lake, a pool-filled resort that promised ample reading time and relaxation. It started off well when, at Chloe’s estimation, her charlie and myself left for an iced coffee at Starbucks which was “not too far off, we drove past it right around the corner.” Boy oh boy. Was it far, far away. We ambled along, glad for the slightly cloudy skies, but still sweating profusely due to the 28 degree heat and the lovely, misting humidity. Steam-room on the go, who needs a spa? We made it, got the caffeine, ambled back, and finally, relaxation time. 

Now. I have done this before. And I must, on a subconscious level, been so intensely aware of my stupidity that at the very least I compulsively coated my masterpiece of a tattoo with factor 50 sun-screen. I also dabbed some on my perfectly symmetrical chest-mole, because, I thought, that was just smart. The rest of my body? Haha! I laughed at the invisible UV rays. Haha! You can’t get me. It’s cloudy today. I’m immune. 

I was not. 

So that’s all the excitement, really, for the day. Covered in after-sun (Avène is a dream in a bottle) I tucked into one of the best BBQ platters ever (courtesy of the legendary Captain Rog) and some dessert which had Chloe and I in a sugar-induced high and streams of tears (“What it that ball of gas I see coming towards me Roger?!”). We then watched Bowfinger, one of my favourite films, comfort, comedy and minimal drama all around. Then, devastated it was only 21:30, and being on a strict bed-time curfew of 23:30 Chloe and I did our best to avoid the sweet comfort of our pillows for the next two hours.

Success was a matter of perspective. 

Night night, y’all. Read more