Some Things You Just Can't Make Up
About three weeks ago I was moving a washer, a dryer and a smoker barbeque from the Knob and Tube down to Paramour.
Having just finally read about proper barbeque and understanding that the smoke and low heat cook the food over a l-o-n-g period of time, as opposed to the searing I had been doing when practicing self-immolation or otherwise cooking outside I was eager to set it up, toss in a brisket and a few mesquite chips and revel in the fog of lunch.
So I threw the thing into the back of the pickup known as Son of The Beast. He's a compact version of The Beast who gave up the ghost (and working brakes) during a snowstorm last year.
When I got home to Paramour, down there in Swellsville I was a little surprised to find the lid of the smoker missing. That's a lot like putting ice tea in a bottle of whiskey. Looks pretty much ok but the raison d'etre is shot. Figuring that this point I had been having too much fun moving the dregs of crap I've accumulated but have too little sense to get rid of and had forgotten the lid at Knob and Tube I put the incomplete bbq down and arm wrestled the washer into the basement. Doing this of course by taking full advantage of the long reach of the arm of law of gravity. Heck, Thumper picked them up for an aria at a scratch and dent sale, why not add to their inherent charm.
Next week at Knob and Tube there wasn't a lid in sight however. Nor was the bbq lid at any of the stop off places I had hit the week before. My only thought was that, despite being made of pretty heavy gauge steel, the damn thing had blown out of the back of Son of a Beast.
Now Thumper and I have gotten to that point in our relationship where we've more or less figured the more important parts of each other out. When I turn left to her saying go right its because left is the way to go. I've got a mental picture of where we are and no amount of Randy McNally's tickling under the chin is going to change that. When Thumper gives a command without explanation, you do it. There's some reason behind it no matter how out of space and time it is at the moment. Hence as we're rolling down the highway Monday evening and she says "Stop" that's exactly what I did.
Flashers on, over to the shoulder, a murder of Lexus' peering eyes wondering if the hillbillies had finally arrived at the shores of Snootyacres, I turn to her and go: "Well?"
"The barbeque lid is back there."
A quarter mile trudge back along the side of the road to the black hulk that I'm sure is the wheel well of some long gone red Tempo and there's the lid to the damn barbeque!
When I was a kid I was given a religous medallion by the nuns who ran kindergarten. It was some sort of appreciative award at the end of the year for generating the least nose paste or actually doing what was asked of me once a semester, I can't remember. At any rate, it got lost while playing on the street I grew up on.
Next weekend, we're heading back there. Thumper's going to find it.
Bunny on.
Having just finally read about proper barbeque and understanding that the smoke and low heat cook the food over a l-o-n-g period of time, as opposed to the searing I had been doing when practicing self-immolation or otherwise cooking outside I was eager to set it up, toss in a brisket and a few mesquite chips and revel in the fog of lunch.
So I threw the thing into the back of the pickup known as Son of The Beast. He's a compact version of The Beast who gave up the ghost (and working brakes) during a snowstorm last year.
When I got home to Paramour, down there in Swellsville I was a little surprised to find the lid of the smoker missing. That's a lot like putting ice tea in a bottle of whiskey. Looks pretty much ok but the raison d'etre is shot. Figuring that this point I had been having too much fun moving the dregs of crap I've accumulated but have too little sense to get rid of and had forgotten the lid at Knob and Tube I put the incomplete bbq down and arm wrestled the washer into the basement. Doing this of course by taking full advantage of the long reach of the arm of law of gravity. Heck, Thumper picked them up for an aria at a scratch and dent sale, why not add to their inherent charm.
Next week at Knob and Tube there wasn't a lid in sight however. Nor was the bbq lid at any of the stop off places I had hit the week before. My only thought was that, despite being made of pretty heavy gauge steel, the damn thing had blown out of the back of Son of a Beast.
Now Thumper and I have gotten to that point in our relationship where we've more or less figured the more important parts of each other out. When I turn left to her saying go right its because left is the way to go. I've got a mental picture of where we are and no amount of Randy McNally's tickling under the chin is going to change that. When Thumper gives a command without explanation, you do it. There's some reason behind it no matter how out of space and time it is at the moment. Hence as we're rolling down the highway Monday evening and she says "Stop" that's exactly what I did.
Flashers on, over to the shoulder, a murder of Lexus' peering eyes wondering if the hillbillies had finally arrived at the shores of Snootyacres, I turn to her and go: "Well?"
"The barbeque lid is back there."
A quarter mile trudge back along the side of the road to the black hulk that I'm sure is the wheel well of some long gone red Tempo and there's the lid to the damn barbeque!
When I was a kid I was given a religous medallion by the nuns who ran kindergarten. It was some sort of appreciative award at the end of the year for generating the least nose paste or actually doing what was asked of me once a semester, I can't remember. At any rate, it got lost while playing on the street I grew up on.
Next weekend, we're heading back there. Thumper's going to find it.
Bunny on.
posted by The Caustic Bunny at Wednesday, August 06, 2008
2 Comments:
think Thumper could find my Man From U.N.C.L.E. ID card?
Go, Thumper!
Just goes to show you should always listen to us Girly-types!
:::ducking and running:::
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