The future has been on my mind constantly lately–the planning, the wondering, the fidgeting for something new. My feet are constantly itching and it is making it a lot harder to sit still at work. Where have the months gone? The person who will replace me in August has already been hired, my office-mate is being courted by a number of law schools that desperately want him because he is a god in hipster form, facebook is abuzz with pictures of travels and ecstatic statuses about jobs and fellowships and the like. And I am just waiting to see where the wind blows.

Several of my workmates are in my same position of being overwhelmed by potential opportunity. Whether we are leaving or staying, our futures are in our hands. I don’t know if the answers appear by happenstance, hours of painstaking pros and cons lists, or drunken epiphanies, but we aren’t at the point in our lives where time is measured in four year increments of school years. Jobs are no longer summer flings that are hot and heavy and fleeting. They can last for years, so you better choose wisely. And the choice is up to you (and the employer that decides to hire you), which is thrilling and terrifying. It struck me that last winter break was the last time I will (hopefully) be home for any extended period of time. It will no longer be my in-between place, the place I know I will go when each semester ends. Does that make me a grown up?

I don’t hide hangovers from my parents, but they are also the first ones I call when I’m sick. I also tell them about–not ask their permission for–trips I am taking, but they still buy my plane tickets home. I pay for rent and groceries, but am still on the family health insurance plan. I have an apartment, but not a room (we did the whole pull-a-curtain-through-the-living-room cost saving thing). I have little tolerance for immaturity, but still insist on building forts and watching Disney movies.  I have a 9-5 job, but am doing the same things I did when I was in school. I don’t watch cartoons anymore, but I inhale young adult novels. I am conscious of what I eat and run lots of miles to keep up with my slowing metabolism, but occasionally put chocolate in my cereal and always take detours when I see playgrounds. I plan and I analyze the costs and benefits of my decisions, but I have no idea where life will take me in a few months. Speaking of which, my friend Wyatt suggested that if neither of us are employed come August 1st, we should pool our funds and start a food-truck where breakfast meets Middle Eastern. Introducing: waflafel.

The name had me in stitches and still brings tears of hearty laughter to my eyes when I say it. Or even just think it. And not that it ever goes away, but my hankering for waffles has been raging as a result (falafel or not). Since waffles have been hot on my brain, I was shocked to learn that yesterday (March 25th) was International Waffle Day and I didn’t celebrate. The day originated in Sweden and is called ‘Våffeldagen’. It notes the beginning of spring and is celebrated in the best way anyone could ever celebrate anything….eating lots of waffles.


It should be no surprise to anyone who reads my ramblings (or has known me for at least a week), that I take breakfast very seriously. Nutritionally it is the most important meal of the day. It happens in the morning, which is when the best thoughts happen and all opportunities await (although if we are to be friends, you must also love breakfast for dinner). And it is America at its purest. A symbol of families and diners and small towns and freedom and road-trips and we-are-open-24-hour-adventures. The ability to make and appreciate good coffee and a solid stack of pancakes is a non-negotiable and my heart will be eternally yours if you wake me up with a creamy cup of coffee and freshly pressed waffles covered in maple syrup, whipped cream, and raspberries. I don’t know what it is about warm, grain based breakfasts, but they get me.


This was yesterday’s entry at Food52, that I did not read until this morning because yesterday I was working, tutoring (my 8-year-old told me I really needed to get to know my boyfriend better when I said I didn’t know his favorite color…sorry), and catching up over a giant bowl of berries with a good friend who is in town. In other words, things significantly less important than eating waffles.

Waffles are ambitious at heart. They want to be smothered in Speculoos and topped with fried chicken. They strive for Sriracha and bacon and butternut squash. Once, they even won over the White House. So today, on this most glorious of occasions, we’re honoring our favorite breakfast food with big dreams. Dust off your iron and whip up that batter — it’s International Waffle Day.

Whether you like your waffles sweet, savory, or somewhere in between, we’ve rounded up the richest, most buttery recipes to celebrate. Sure, we stateside waffle loyalists should technically wait for August 24, the date of the first American waffle iron patent. But you know what? It’s Waffle Day somewhere, and that’s good enough for us.

Amen, Food52. And it looks like I will get another chance at celebrating Waffle Day in August. I will certainly be sure to do it right this time. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have a waffle iron (that is dream appliance #2 I am getting one day when I will have the same kitchen for over a year…#1 is obviously an espresso machine). I would just make these every single day:


To mix things up, I’d like to try waffle grilled cheese or waffle breakfast nachos. Or maybe even a waffle falafel. Although, no matter how successful Waflafel becomes…we will never compare to the glory and greatness that is this place. The born and bred NYC snob I share an office with showed me Wafles and Dinges when I told him–teary eyed from laughter–about Waflafel. Choose between soft or crispy, 10 toppings and spreads, and eat with coffee handcrafted to compliment your golden brown piece of syrup slathered heaven….I would walk to New York for this.


Maybe I am a grown up (or at least mostly one). I just hope to be the kind of grown up that has a child’s sense of play and wonder. So maybe I will teach and spend the rest of my life surrounded by children because they are  magical, resilient beings. Or maybe I will make waffles and, like a child, enjoy all of the little miraculous moments life stirs together and never stop believing that something wonderful could happen as soon as you finish breakfast.


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