So I’m sitting on one of those red swivel counter seats at this breakfast spot in Carson City. No one has chosen to sit next to me. I can’t blame them. I’m going around and around and around at breakneck speed, or so it appears to me. I might be confused for an aging Peggy Fleming if it weren’t for the fact that I’m slightly slouched, not twirling on silver skates and wearing a stained Wisconsin Badger T-shirt (not a fancy, pink skating outfit). Also, there’s no hoppy-like music blaring out a familiar, seductive but family-appropriate tune.
For a few brief moments, I catch my bobbing head in the mirror behind the counter. And when the light shines just right from the circular pie case, I think to myself, Irene Kuhl’s youngest boy could have been a late-blooming star of the Ice Capades.
This elation lasts for brief seconds.
Then I have a piece of coconut cream pie.