Nostalgia. Again.

Once upon a time, my dad would make pancakes every Saturday morning in his PJs (read: underwear) with Huey Lewis or Phil Collins on the radio.  Between mixing ingredients, shoo-ing me away from stealing licks of batter, and flipping hubcap-sized pancakes from one golden side to the other, he'd do the world's most ridiculous, overblown version of the "butter churn" dance you've ever seen.  It. Was. Epic.

I saw this video today, and it reminded me so much of those mornings that I could almost smell the sweet, toasty scent of his pancakes:

Post 

Happy Tuesday!