Over the summer, in what proved to be a classic (but totally in character) overreach on my part, I insisted on a road trip with my wife in our brand-new car from our home in Connecticut through Virginia to visit our daughter and her affianced and then a sojourn South to surprise our son and his spouse for his fortieth birthday.
By the time we'd returned to the Land of Steady Habits. we'd clocked 3,025 miles and a little more wear and tear than I'd imagined would have happened.
But that's not the point of today's epistle. At some point, not sure where, but I think somewhere in Georgia, maybe, either heading down or back, I finally (and no irony attached to that word) got to eat in a Waffle House.
I'd only heard about them and had never had the chance to go to one. What is it they used to say in ancient times, 'see Rome and die'? To which I now say, pass the syrup, y'all.
-bill kenny
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