Back on the earth again

Archived | July 14, 2009 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. The kids were busy playing with friends and I was out driving around, enjoying the heat of midsummer with the windows down and the radio turned up. I’d spent a good part of the afternoon shopping for the kids’ upcoming camp outings and it seems every mother and every other father in the county had the same idea and I needed to unwind a bit and what better way than a winding country road set to some good time music?
I have a theory I would apply to the events of that particular drive. I call it my “Skeet Shooting Theory.” I must have talked about it at some point. It has to do with the whole feeling of freedom, of flying high, of at last rising up into the joy of where you want to be. You’re unencumbered, you’ve nowhere in particular to be, you’re light as air, and BOOM — out of nowhere something blasts you out of your blissful arc and you’re back on the earth again, dirt on your parts, likely in pieces, unsure about whether or not you’ll ever be airborne again.
For the skeet, it’s a bullet. For me, it was a 230 lb. state trooper named Jerry. I happened to give him a smile as I waved and flew on by, realizing a bit too late I’d neglected to fasten my seat belt. Jerry noticed, too. Within minutes he’d pulled me over, and that was that. He asked where I was headed, and I showed him all the things I’d gotten the kids for camp, but he didn’t seem all that impressed. I told him that since the seatbelt law is so new, I forget on occasion. He smiled and said, “Sure, Lady. Maybe this will help jog your memory next time you go for a drive.” And he handed me a citation and told me to call the number in ten days and they would tell me what my fine is. “It’ll be around a hundred bucks,” he said. Thank you, Sir, I said, and fastened my seat belt, and drove off thinking of all the things a hundred dollars can buy.
The thing about falling from the sky is there’s always the rising. Which I plan to do. I’ll be belted in, of course, but I’ll be flying again in no time. I might hit the dust now and then, but I don’t stay there long. Never have, never will. You can tuck that in your belt and buckle it.
Hobo Dinners on the Grill
Here’s a recipe for a gathering. Make sure each person makes his or her own hobo dinner, and have an array of vegetables and condiments available. I sometimes set out a bowl of pineapple for a touch of the tropics. Serve with salad and Jell-O and a pan of bars.
Mold hamburger into patties, place each on a large square of heavy-duty aluminum foil. Place sliced potatoes, carrots, onions, mushrooms, and/or whatever vegetables you desire on top of each hamburger patty. Add 2-3 T butter, and salt and pepper. You might add a bit of barbecue sauce if that’s your kind of thing. Seal foil well, and place each hobo dinner on the grill. Cover grill if possible.