To Dream the Impossible Dream

Hey, kids!  Difficult to believe I haven't posted in over two weeks. 

Okay, difficult for me, perhaps.  I know, however, that I've had these gaps before.  You've heard me mention before that I have no concept of the passage of time, and oh, how it's flying.  Of course, the last two point five weeks have held lots of excitement and little miracles.  I became an uncle on St. Patrick's Day.  Sure, I had nieces, my brother-in-law's children, but this is my sister's first and she's adorable.

Last weekend?  Our daughter gave went into labor and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in less time than it takes us to drive from here to Wisconsin.  Three hours less, to be exact.  He was so brand-spankin'-new when I held him for the first time, and he's perfect.  I'm a proud grampa, can you tell?

This is not why you're here, though, dear reader.  I'm just making excuses to lengthen the post.  Think I ever had problems meeting those word-count requirements in school?

I had a dream the other night where I was working. This isn't unusual for me, for my job to creep into my REM-time. (Or when I'm sleeping, exhausted from my interpretive dance of 'Shiny Happy People'.)


But this was different, as it wasn't MY job, but instead a fabulous new opportunity. I was working at Waffle House.

I love the Waffle House. I take unabashed pride in my adoration for La Casa de Waffles. Breakfast, 24 hours a day. Seven days a week. Fifty-two weeks a year. Several years back, Lori and I celebrated Christmas Eve at the Waffle House. We took friends and family there, like it was some unholy mecca for all things waffled and delicious.

My dream gave me unlimited access to the biggest Waffle House I'd ever seen, or at least unlimited access to the parts I've already seen as a customer. Giant griddles, kettles of grits and gravy, waffle makers, it just makes me want to call out: "Mark: drop two, scattered, smothered covered, three scrambled raisin. Plate." I don't know just what I'm saying, I'm probably getting cheese and onions on my waffle and a raisin omelette, but hey, it's my dream and I'm ordering properly.



 Strange the pleasure I was able to take in wiping tiny fingerprints from the glass doors, in washing dishes and scraping grills, simply to be a part of the grand Waffle House experience (which I envision like the Jimi Hendrix Experience, with more carbs and less acid.)

Sure, it's an odd 'dream' job.  And I don't think I have the ability to learn a brand new vocabulary at this point in my life.  But I can dream.

We are bereft of waffle-y convenience here in the O-Hi-O, they exist but they're not at impulse distance anymore.  In my quest to make dreams a reality, I found that one cannot purchase a Waffle House franchise.  Every Waffle House in the world is still owned by the family of the original founders.  And there's no indication that they might consider changing that.  Good for them.

How about you, dear reader?  Dream job?  Amusing waffle-related anecdote?  Discuss.

Fun Fact Friday the 13th - Good luck with that

How lucky could anything that follows 'Rock-a-Hula Baby' be? Since Elvis Presley's 'Good Luck Charm' reached number one back in 1962, I'd say pretty lucky. But, really. 'Rock-a-Hula Baby' sounds like something that should be in the juke box at my local Waffle House, next to 'Waffle House Hashbrowns, I Love You'. Really, that one's in there, along with 'There are raisins in my toast', 'Waffle Do Wop' and about 20 other WH-themed songs. I do love that the 'b' side is 'Anything that's part of you'. As if this was an answer when asked just what part is the good luck charm. Can't you just see Elvis sawing up bodies, perhaps humming 'Love Me Tender' as he carefully separates the joints? Or is that just me?It bothers me that airplanes don't have a 13th row, and that my last hotel glaringly went from floor 12 to 14. This is irrational. Generally speaking, I don't have a fear of the number 13, I don't carry good luck charms or amulets or tokens, though as a kid I had a weird, bony yellow rabbit's foot. I could do extensive research on why they're considered lucky in this day and age of modern science and technology, but ultimately that bores me. The fact that I can still buy them in a myriad of colors does not.

If you really need to get your nerd on today, click here to find out why 13 is unlucky. I can never hope to top the Straight Dope and would never deign to paraphrase.

I suppose this is Fun Fact Lite, so here are a few things that amuse me, maybe in the process you'll forget that today's post was mostly content-free.

Happy Friday.