The skillet I’ve been using to make my cheese omelet breakfast lately was dirty and languishing in the dishwasher and I was in no mood to wash it, so here I am at IHOP, trying to ignore the inane conversation in the booth behind me involving a woman who looks older than me, but is 
almost certainly 10 years my junior, and her family. The woman was chowing down after having part of her foot amputated because of diabetes and her daughter or granddaughter was yammering on about how some other diabetic relative lost both of her legs because she neglected her condition.
And that’s why I favor protein over carbohydrates.
I got here late enough to avoid the morning rush and to get a window booth so I can keep an eye on my bike.
This promises to be the warmest, sunniest day of the week and I had vague thoughts of going for an extended motorcycle ride – either down to Gillette, Ark. and the Arkansas Post to collect a stamp for my National Parks Passport or up to Cape Girardeau, Mo., to do a little shopping at Grass Roots BMW Motorcycles.
I’ve finished my IHOP breakfast and it’s 10:46 a.m. - too late to undertake the long slog to Gillette, but Grass Roots is still a possibility.
We shall see.
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