Coming Soon: Day 417

What does it take to build a Waffle House? Not just in terms of materials, but time? Seriously, what in the world goes into one of those? Last time I checked, you needed like, 8 stools, a griddle and a coffeemaker. Maybe throw in a restroom and the obligatory wafflemaker to give the whole "Waffle House" notion some credibility and 'Voila!', you're in the redneck grub business! But here in Georgia, where everything is slow, (Except the drivers on 85 and the local gas company's billing cycle) I guess the darn thing needs time to "simmer". Heck, after the Civil War, they rebuilt the entire city of Atlanta in 11 years or so. Surely some slop trough with a jukebox would be a cinch.

First off, understand that while my city is the county seat for the largest growing county in all of Georgia, every darn thing shuts down after 9pm. It's like everyone uses public park hours! Open at sunrise, close at sunset. Except the McD's, CVS and the QT, but FYI, that's 4-1-1 for another D-A-Y. So as I gallivant through town on my way home after a tortuous 12, nay, 13-hour day, needless to say, I'm quite ravenous. The only thing I can stop for is McDonald's, which I've done more times than I'd like to count. "What about Subway?" you say? Yeah, that thing shuts tight like a trap at 9pm, too. You heard me… Nine Pee Em. Yeah, "Eat Fresh", but apparently not after the sun goes down. Even when I lived in centenarian-plagued South Florida, Jared and Co. stayed open later than the local Piccadilly.

All that said, knowing I needed some sign of His grace, God placed a "COMING SOON: Waffle House" sign along the stretch of road that I traverse every single trip to and from work! Could it be? Had my prayers been answered? Not that I hadn't been praying for a Waffle House in the third world countries too, but I just wanted mine first, you see. Well, that sign was 167 days and 1,117 curse words ago. For those of you not familiar with the cycle of sign evolution, apparently the "coming soon" sign on the dirt pile evolves into the "coming soon" sign taped to the inside of the window (once there is a window). From there, the "Now Hiring Friendly Folks" sign makes its appearance. Once that's gone, "OPEN SOON!" blossoms – in capital letters, no less. As if to scream from the mountaintop. My mouth begins to water. "Capital letters", I say to myself. That MUST be a good sign! Yeah, uh-huh… So good that they've left it up for another month.

They even have the lights on in there! LIGHTS! Electricity! It's a nightly ritual now. I see the lights, shake my head, rub my eyes and blink a few times as if I'm witnessing some desert mirage and see that Mr. Forkner and Mr. Rogers are still perpetuating this cruel hoax on me.

1955… Yeah, I heard some of the stores they started building back then have JUST opened.

BTW, what do the lights mean, anyway? "HA HA… Silly, hungry boy! You want some hashbrowns scattered, covered and smothered? As soon as we've been constructed, inspected and opened! Giggle… Tee-hee!" I often dream that since the lights are on, I could stop by with a grocery bag of my own supplies and make my own. I'd bring the eggs, bacon and grits and sit down anywhere I wanted! Forget the "Two To A Booth" rule! I might even put my feet up on the bench across from me. Of course, I'd smear Crisco on a few things for that "lived in" appeal that every Waffle House seems to possess. Imagine being the first and only customer… No need to prewash your area. BTW, always order two waters. One for you, one for your silverware.

So here I sit. Hungry and confused. Questioning the foundation of my whole faith system. Surely my Father wouldn't allow this dramedy to play out at my expense, now would He? Okay, not so much 'confused' as I am 'hungry'.

I'll tell you, I'm so distraught that once they open, I just might boycott.

"What'll ya have? Comin' right up… In 6 months!"

It Finally Ate…

Okay, I know that you’ve probably all heard about (or witnessed) real life human encounters with snakes that most likely ended up with the poor herp getting to know the end of a shovel in some intimate manner. I’m not talking about snakes in the jungle or some exotic locale. I’m talking your average yard-mowing moment where dad/mom made sure to cut a poor, scared snake in two with some hefty piece of yard metal… “That’ll teach you to scare me in MY own yard!”

Well I came across just such an incident in my own yard last week. There, glistening in all the mid-morning splendor of a dew-touched Georgia morning, a 10″ checkered garter snake. Rather than running to grab my shotgun, machete and a grenade, I picked it up and ran for a bucket! After picking it up, I could hear two distinct voices in my head… Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter, in one ear… ” She’s a BYOOT!! “, he said.
I could also hear Marti… “Get that thing out of here!!“, she screamed. He must’ve said it louder.

It would be “for the boys”, I said. They would love having a snake as a pet, regardless of what mom said, I thought. So I ran out to grab an aquarium, some mulch, a water bowl and something to eat. Now just what would it eat? Many years ago, I had quite a collection of snakes, but never a garter snake. All my snakes were larger and had no problem swallowing down a mouse or two. Just toss a little white unsuspecting rodent in the cage and grab a front row seat! But a garter <yawn> snake? No teeth really to speak of… I should’ve just googled it or something, but I forgot to. I grabbed some crickets. I took it all home and got him situated in his new habitat and tossed in the crickets. By morning, I realized that I now had crickets as pets, too. After googling it, I tried whole frozen pinkies. “Pinkies” are newborn, hairless (hence, “pink”) mice bred for reptile consumption. A 6-piece runs about $10 bucks. (Insert your own McNugget joke here.)

Thawed one out and… Nothing. I even used Marti’s scrapbooking/neurosurgery tweezers to chase this snake around the cage with a dead mouse dangling by its tail. Nada. Now at this age, these things eat every other day or so, but mine must be broken. He hadn’t eaten in nearly a week. Uh-oh, maybe we’d have to let it go, I thought. Marti actually thought about that a week ago, by the way.

This morning, I figured I had one chance left. I ran out into the yard and dug a hole, grabbed two little earthworms and brought them inside. I cut one into little pieces and with snake in one hand and worm bit in the other, I force-fed it the worm.

<Cue angels singing>

It looked at me through the glass as if to say, “Thanks, man…”
Either that, or “Just great. I should have spit it out so this freak would let me loose.”

“For the boys”, I thought, right? For the record, I distinctly remember Jordan hiding in the closet as I began to feed this thing.