Another one down

Oi. Nearly one o’clock in the morning, and I’m finally done replacing and painting trim in Unit Four. I thought I was never going to finish. I don’t even have the energy to go outside and listen to the coyotes tonight. Five minutes in the shower, and then I’m going to bed.

I got a late start this morning because we had a guest last night — an old hippie who is driving Route 66 from Illinois to Arizona in a ’72 VW Westfalia. He’s a strict vegetarian, so I made him a bowl of oatmeal and a batch of vegan pancakes for breakfast. He was amazed that anyone in Coldwater could define the word “vegan,” much less cook breakfast without milk or eggs.

I didn’t bother telling him that pancakes are the easiest thing in the world — you just make regular pancake mix and then substitute a cup of non-dairy milk and a teaspoon of vinegar for the buttermilk when you mix up the batter. I used to make them for my college roommate, who had some kind of milk allergy. I always used soymilk in college, but I didn’t have any on hand, so I just got out the blender and made some almond milk, which is much easier and tastes much better than it sounds.

My new friend thanked me for making him breakfast by bringing in a bottle of real maple sirup to pour over the pancakes. (That’s not a typo. Maple syrup, with a “y,” has sugar added to it. Maple sirup, with an “i,” is an all-natural product.) He said the sirup came from a little place on Route 66 in northern Illinois.

It tasted really wonderful, and Joey loved it so much that he promptly informed me of his intention to become a vegan.

Is it wrong that I almost peed my pants laughing at the crestfallen look on his face when he found out that vegans don’t eat cheese grits?

— Sierra


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