I begin this picturesque Sunday morning with two thoughts. They both are seemingly transient, meant to flutter away by the time I’ve finished combing my hair. The first reminds me that the house is completely empty until four o’ clock which gives me ample time to cook a pancake breakfast for one. As much as I’d love to focus on beginning my search for powdery batter, my next thought pretty much crushes all hopes of focus. If my mind was Tiananmen Square, pancakes would be the helpless thought victim being run over by the superior tank. The tank in this case is last night. Last night, was having dinner not near but in Charlie’s pool with bagel bites floating on pool toys. Last night transitioned from an impromptu aqua meal to star-gazing from Charlie’s gazebo. Last night seemed to just only begin when we took our blankets from the backyard up to Charlie’s bedroom. I never really left last night behind, even when I returned home this morning to make pancakes.