Friday, September 25, 2009

When you Give a Girl a Pancake. . .

Text from Cindy:  I miss you.  Can we have breakfast?
Text from Me:  I miss u too.  I have to do errands and take shower.  What time?
Cindy:  Leaving for Perkins 8:50.  Lisa coming too.
Me:  Skipping everything.  See you there.

It is Friday.  On Wednesday, I walked with Lisa and Peg, and Lisa and I went to Perkins after for breakfast.  On Thursday, Lisa and Peg and I walked again, and all three of us went to Perkins.  Now it's Friday.  Here we go again.

Backstory:  For a couple of years, Cindy and Lisa and I frequented Perkins a lot.  A LOT.  We have a waitress, Kathy, who is more like a friend now, who takes care of us, knows us, and more likely than not, loves us.  And we love her.  This past year, we've been there less, for a variety of reasons, but when we all go together,  it's like nothing has changed.  This summer, Lisa has been fighting cancer, and she has been visiting Perkins with her husband after treatments at the Cleveland Clinic.  Kathy has become yet another member of Lisa's Kick Cancer's Ass support group.  Now we hug her and she is "in the know."  It's good to have a pancake connection "in the know."

When we approached the familiar hostess stand this morning, we asked to be seated in her section, but in the sunshine, please, out in the glassed-in porch area.

"Could you please tell her that the president, vice-president and treasurer of her fan club are here?" said Cindy, to the hostess.

Kathy came, with three diet Cokes.  Often,she just brings a fourth for whomever needs it first.  Sometimes, a pitcher.

She teased Cindy about working too much, we discussed Grey's Anatomy, but not the end because Lisa hasn't seen it yet.  And then down to the serious business of ordering.

Cindy first.
"An egg white omelet, veggie.  But I don't like mushrooms."
"Toast or pancakes?" asked Kathy.
"French silk pie."

Then Lisa.
"Kathy, I really want The Traveller, but you don't have it anymore except on the Over 55 menu.  But my body is kind of working like a 94-year old woman lately."
"It's fine, Toots."
"I want that."
"Sausage or bacon?"

Then me.
"I want what I had yesterday, please.  That wrap, but I can't have ham.  Can you sub veggies, please?"
"Can I have Egg Beaters?"
"You got it.  Fruit?"
"Not today."

"Isn't anyone having pancakes?" says Cindy.  "Darn it."
"You can all split a side," says Kathy.
"Perfect," we all say.

We always split a side of pancakes anyway, and she knows it.  It's nice, though, that she tries to let us pretend to order our own meal.

She brings Cindy's pie first.  Cindy runs and swims about 100 miles a day, so the pie probably is burned off before it hits her stomach.  Lucky.

Then three plates, one pancake each.  
"I gave you the pancakes free, girls.  Somehow the pie took the place of the. . . oh, never mind," says Kathy.  We all applaud the free pancakes.

More diet Cokes.  Breakfasts.  More good discussion among ourselves, and with Kathy, when she has time.

Lisa announces that she has coupons, which is a new addition to our Perkins outing.   One for a free entree, one for a 4.99 premium omelet.

"Yes," says Kathy, "you can use them all.  "I'll ring you up so it works out best."

The bills come with stickers and smileys.  We pay.  I think we leave tips that probably amount to about 80%.

It's good to have one pancake on a plate.  It's good when Kathy knows what you like and why.  It's good when Lisa has an appetite.  It's good to gossip and catch up next to the window in the sunshine.  It's good when the waitress is a friend and she hugs you.  It's good to start a weekend with pie in the morning.

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