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  • I live by the Zoo, close enough, that I can hear the lions roaring in the early morning air.

    Each morning, I turn the stove to 8 while I coat a frying pan with oil and take out a large plastic bowl. My morning ritual has begun.

    First, I put in 2 spoonfuls of homemade vanilla sugar into a large bowl. I make the sugar every few weeks because it tastes better than the sugar you get in the store and smells wonderful when I open the container each morning.

    Next, I toss in a little bit of baking soda. Just enough to give the pancakes a rise because my younger daughter doesn't like crepes or fluffy American pancakes.

    Then, I crack a chilled egg and let it slide down my fingers making sure that no shell falls through. I use my fingers because the bowl is plastic and never makes a clean break.

    Stirring slightly, I sift in three 1/2 cups of flour. Half cups because a larger cup will not fit into the flour container.

    Lastly, I pour in milk. No specific amount. It depends on the amount of flour I scooped out of the container. (I am never precise on the amount of flour, I just take out three scoops.)

    The reasons why I am are mundane like the reason I use my fingers, baking soda or a 1/2 cup. They are just there. All you need to really know is that I was tossed cracked, stirred and poured into my current European life. A creation of decades and lifetimes. I was formed. I was created. Hear me roar.

    [Photo by Emmy Ann Horstkamp]
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