Saturday morning, It’s unusual for me to be home as I usually go to work. The observer within me, found it fascinating to be profoundly grateful to make pancakes.
The eggs that were laid by hens with the ancestral heredity of dinosaurs, picked by the farmer who may have learned a skill most likely from his or her parents, packaged by machines designed by engineers, shipped by a skilled truck driver who fueled his vehicle with a combustible substance that was extracted from deep within the earth, transported to a refinery and then distributed across the world. These eggs were shipped to and shelved at the local grocery store for me to purchase.
My compensation for providing comfort and peace mind to others paid for all that to happen in the world. Eggs, Pancake Mix, Milk, Baking Soda, butter, Maple syrup, water, dish soap, electricity, Stove, lighting, refrigeration, and time. I’m grateful for it all.