The Tale Of Digby And The Fickle Flapjack

This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. Have you ever found yourself somewhere and wondered how in the world that you got there?  Yeah.  We felt like that yesterday.  We thought that we were in California, but then we found ourselves in a Danish town called Solvang.


And the first place that Digby found?  You guessed it.  A pancake house.

IMG_9859.JPGAs Deputy, it takes a lot of pancakes to keep him going and happy.  And yet, there are never enough.  If you are a pancake anywhere in the same state as Digby, you are not safe.  And as Sheriff, it is my duty to keep everyone safe, even in Solvang.  Especially a fickle flapjack in Solvang, California.  Yes.  A fickle flapjack.

How did we find a fickle flapjack?  You see, in the town of Solvang, the way people talk to each other is in fairy tales. There are many tales to tell, and many things that you may not find in other places because they live in a fairy tale.  Like that fickle flapjack.  Apparently, a gentleman by the name of Hans Christian Andersen has a museum here.  You might recognize some of his work like the Ugly Duckling, The Princess and the Pea and maybe even The Little Mermaid. He loved fairy tales.  And Solvang loves Hans Christian Andersen.


If you live here in Solvang, and you are a flapjack, and a Digby Pancake comes to visit your town, you tell all of the other flapjacks, and if you are 2 Traveling Dogs, you find yourself in at the middle of a fairy tale too.


Thus begins The Tale Of Digby And The Fickle Flapjack

2 dogs traveled far and wide in search of a good meal.  As they happened upon a town of windmills and pancake houses, it appeared to them that their stomachs were about to be satisfied with as many plates of danish pancakes as they wanted.


They had thought of a good meal for many hours, two in fact. And they were famished.  They were law enforcement dogs, and they needed to keep up their appetites. But as they ordered from the menu, they realized that in fact a pancake house had only pancakes. You see, one of the dogs were not as keen on pancakes as the other, and as he gazed upon his plate of pancakes, which were the only thing that he could order, he began to wonder.  Could these pancakes have feelings?  Did they deserve to be eaten? Did he have the right to tell his Deputy that his empty belly might not be as important as a flapjack’s feelings and right to live in a town of windmills?


He was a Sheriff.  Wasn’t it his duty to protect flapjacks when they needed to be protected?  He had taken an oath in fact.

So as this Sheriff looked at his pancakes, he forgot that the Deputy had received his plate too, and as he gazed up, he saw that the Deputy’s flapjacks were already gone.  It was too late.  But he could still save his plate of pancakes.  But as he began to explain to Digby that the flapjacks on his plate were not to be eaten that day, because they were visiting a town of fairy tales, the Deputy had already ate three out of four.  And the Sheriff was mad.  The Sheriff was very mad.  He yanked his one flapjack from the table and told Deputy Digby that this flapjack was not to be eaten.  He told Deputy Digby that this flapjack was now going to travel with them.

But what the Sheriff did not know was that this particular flapjack was a fickle one.  He had lived a life of crime in this town for many years.  It was his habit to steal.  This was a fickle flapjack.  And now that he was protected by a Sheriff, he found that his life of crime was very easy to continue.  Every day, he would break into the town’s houses and steal butter to slather all over himself.  But then, he would break into another house and steal syrup to slather all over himself.  He was very fickle. As Sheriff Brickle kept receiving reports of break-ins, he looked at their new traveling companion and saw that he in fact had much butter and much syrup all over himself.  And he got mad for saving him and protecting him.  He now had to protect the town from this fickle flapjack and locked him up. The town felt safe again and people were no longer blaming the flapjacks on their plate at the pancake house for their missing butter and syrup. The Sheriff had saved the town from this fickle flapjack.

But as he went to go check on him one day in jail, he noticed that the fickle flapjack was gone.  He had escaped.  He called the Deputy who rushed in with butter.  And gasp.  Maple syrup on his mouth.   And he had not went to the pancake house that day.  And the Sheriff asked the Deputy where their inmate was and all the Deputy could say was that justice had been served.  And it was delicious.

Thus, the tale of the fickle flapjack was to be told in Solvang for many years. They didn’t even tell the story of the The Princess and the Pea any longer.

And they would, from that day only, only tell The Tale Of Digby Pancake and the Fickle Flapjack.  There is never a choice between butter and syrup.  You have to choose both.  The flapjack should have known that, and for the rest of flapjacks in Solvang, they tell this tale to their little silver dollar pancakes to remind them not to be fickle.  Like the fickle flapjack.  And that is why you find so many danishes now here.  Because.  That’s why.

-The End

-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle

P.S.  We are back on the road today!  We are headed to somewhere called Temecula, California.  Are you coming with us?  We have no room for fickle flapjacks.


FIGments Of Imagination

This is Deputy Digby Pancake.  We arrived in Santa Barbara, California yesterday, and wow, was it a long ride.  Not really.  It was only two hours from Arroyo Grande.


But since the persons decided they wanted to see a few more things before really hitting the road hard next week to that Florida place, it seemed only appropriate that we stop at the world’s biggest fig tree.  Actually, I don’t know when it is ever appropriate to stop at the world’s biggest fig tree.  But everyone should do it. When I saw it, well, I thought maybe it was a FIGment of my imagination!


The persons told us that probably not many people would go out of their way to see a tree.  But why not?  People will go out of their way to go to stores, or see statues, or even go to museums.  But a tree that is the largest fig tree in the world, on the middle of a busy street, has so many people that drive by it, and never stop to give it the respect it deserves.  What they don’t FIGure out is that your life should never be so busy that you can’t stop to admire a fig tree.

The only way that a fig tree this large could disappoint me would be to not let me pee on it.  I have peed on a tree in all 48 states, and this would have been the absolute dream to mark my spot…FIGuratively speaking of course.  But the fence around it told me that this was not possible.  And as Girl Person talked about the fruit on it, and the cookies that she used to eat when she was little that were soft and chewy and gooey…well, I thought that if I ever could plant a tree other than a pancake tree, this would be it. Soft. Sweet. Gooey. Chewy.  Just. Like. Me.

We are carrying a lot of things back with us to our new house…wherever that is.  Memories and lessons are just some of them. We put all of these things on a shelf like a FIGurine.  Because we have lived the dream.


We have saved seeds from our favorite fruits and vegetables to plant, we bought a little sequoia tree, and we made a bird feeder. These things all need a home now as much as we do.  But just like this fig tree was transplanted and moved in order to reach its full potential, that has been where our paths and our journey have led us too.  Every single stop, and every single state on this trip has prepared us for our destination.  We feel like  home is a destination, just like the fig tree should be in Santa Barbara, California.  Things worth stopping for and appreciating in our lives may not things on a tourist map, or that you have to pay for.  And finding a house may seem like something ordinary too…to most people.  But I can tell you this.  For us, this is probably the most exciting part of our journey.  And the most scary.  Because it feels like it will never happen.  Is a house just a FIGment of our imagination?  The fig tree showed us we can do it. Why? If a fig tree can be moved, uprooted, and grow into the world’s largest fig tree ever, maybe our life will be the best ever.  We have to keep watering our hopes and Girl Person says we might even need to put a fence around it to keep focused.  Because we can do this!

This fig tree, even though it is over 100 years old, still has fruit, is still beautiful, and continues to grow.  It also still keeps growing fig cakes.

At least my fig tree will.  FIGments of imagination?  I think not. Sweet.  Chewy.  Gooey.  Where I plant my fig tree by my pancake tree will be the best place ever. Now, we just need to find it.  Thank you fig tree.  Thank you for being there when people decide that you are important enough to visit.  You are the biggest, the largest, the prettiest fig tree in the whole wide world. The important things in our lives will always be there for us too.  When we are ready to appreciate them.  Make the time.  Life is sweet.

-Deputy Digby Pancake

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