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It’s amazing just how much our lives are consumed by thinking about eating. Many times we aren’t finished with one of our “three squares” before we are thinking about the next one.

            Example. Donna Sue and I were on our way to Birmingham for another one of her doctor’s appointments at the UAB hospital that I wrote about a few weeks ago. It’s an approximate five hour trip and, with just the two of us, there is the ebb and flow of conversation.

            When the talking takes a break and there is silence, there is usually thinking. Yes, I am guilty of thinking every now and then. I try to stay away from it, but the mind is a terrible thing to waste! My mind wandered as to what I wanted to eat at the end of or during the trip, itself.

            First order of business was some ice cream. I thought about Dairy Queen and their soft-serve. Donna Sue likes their thick, turned upside-down blizzards, but I wanted a simple wafer cone filled with soft-serve and dipped in chocolate.

            That’s what I got and thought I was getting enough napkins, but driving and eating a soft-serve cone dipped in chocolate can be quite messy and I did not get enough napkins. I can’t remember whether I got more of the ice cream on my shirt or in my moustache. But, make no mistake about it, I made a good choice.

            As I have mentioned, as soon as the ice cream was history, thoughts turned to “what’s for supper?”

            Birmingham’s a large city and the opportunities would be numerous, except for one variable. We would be arriving late and would be tired. That sort of knocked out the choice of Zaxby’s and, since it was Sunday, no Chick-Fil-A. As you can tell, my fine dining antenna is a little short.

            Next to the hotel where we stay, there is an Arby’s. Roast beef has always been a favorite. That would be easy and would suffice. However, by the time we arrived, Arby’s had closed and we had to adjust our choice. We rode around some and, lo and behold, saw the yellow sign of the 24/7 Wonderful Waffle House.

            The Waffle House was founded by two Atlanta gentlemen back in 1955. They were neighbors in the Avondale Estates suburb and had the idea of opening a 24-hour sit-down restaurant for their friends and neighbors.

            The focus of their restaurant would be on the people on both sides of the counter. It worked. There are now 1900 locations of Waffle House in 25 states and all are open every day, 24 hours a day. That’s the old-time spirit of America, isn’t it?

            Well enough history. Let me get down to the nitty gritty of Sunday night. We wanted the food to go and the restaurant wasn’t busy. Donna Sue wanted a simple grilled cheese sandwich and I wanted a regular cheeseburger with a side of scattered, smothered, and covered hash browns. I did not say, “Hold the grease,” and they didn’t!

            By the time we got to the hotel room, unpacked, and opened the to-go boxes, we were hungry. I never played the game, “Catch the Greased Pig,” but to pick up the cheeseburger, I think I know how the game is played, now. The hash browns? They were so slick, they would make eating boiled okra seem like sawdust! But Lawdy, Lawdy, that Waffle House food was copasetic, meaning mighty fine!

            I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Which brings me to that subject. I think I will choose cremation. As for my ashes? Put them on the Waffle House griddle, scatter ‘em, smother ‘em, and, then, cover ‘em!