One hostage down

MOm and I are getting delusional. Maybe it’s the pure sugar cane root beer or Arkansas itself (which oddly reminds me of the central valley in California where I grew up, but don’t tell anyone that.) rice patties snake along the highway. High trees enclose you making it feel as if there’s some mystery beyond them, some other world blocke from our view.
In Little Rock we were instructed by some fellow rafters coming on the salmon river trip with us that we HAD to veer off the highway to find pre-packaged waffles from a company called Dewafelbakker. We were told we HAD to go to the factory in order to get these snack cakes that according to one local woman we ran into ‘didn’t even need syrup!’
Long story short, the factory did not sell individual packages of ‘self-life’ Dewafelbakker waffles unles we wanted 8 tons, so we had to wind our way through maumelle Arkansas to find a Kroeger. 24 waffles are being held hostage in our vehicles as we speak. We are getting ransom incentives NOT to eat them. One casualty. We may be asking for more money. I wish to god I could share the ransom picture with you. But think of a wild animal dangling a precious rabbit from its mouth – that’s me.

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