Sourdough pancakes were a way of life at our house. We had them every morning that I can remember. It would be easier to remember the times we didn't. Mom's starter and the old crock it live in were family members! It was everyone's job to make sure we remembered to "do the sourdough" every night. We'd mix it up and tuck it in for night with a dishtowel wrapped around the lid. Every morning it was sitting there on the kitchen counter faithfully waiting for us. Mom knew who liked the hot-off-the-press ones and who liked the limp ones (showing no bias here...). After breakfast the crock went back in the fridge. And so it went.

Almost everyone I've talked to since Mom's passing mentioned "Georgene's sourdough". What is your memory - sourdough or otherwise?

An excerpt from Mom's life story (Chapter 20):
I did have a temper. Mom always said it came from the her side of the family (the Maynards and the Painters). I'm happy she was willing to give me a genetic excuse. I'll never know why she didn't take a switch to me! My bed was always made that night, and we moved on. I think I stopped doing that by the time we moved to Slate Creek when I was 8. But for the record, I did always feel bad about doing that. It must explain why I make the bed now when I am mad. haha!