doodledee

How about this spring? Sure is whizzing along. Like an Indy car. Which I'll be watching in 3 days. Because that's what you do on Memorial Day weekend.

And here we go with the bulleted list again. Seems like this is all I do lately. Some of you will assume it's a creative rut - or worst yet, just taking the easy way out - but I know you loyal readers out there know the real truth: it's both the easy and creative way out.

• The first BBQ smoker smoke-out smokefest of the season went down the weekend before last and it was smokerriffic as usual. Bylerly's had chicken on sale and I went a little nuts and smoked and pulled like 40 chicken thighs. They were, in a word, su-poyb. We had some friends over for dinner and there was still easily enough for 6 more lunches, 2 dinners, and 3 batches vacuum-packed for the freezer. I could say that I'm sick of BBQ chicken sandwiches, but I'd be lying. Because I'm not. Because they're awesome.
• I dug the weedwacker out of cold storage to knock down some tall grass around my yard. Go figure, it didn't start. Out of gas. Not surprising, it probably hasn't been started in 2 years, and I think I only got it running one time after I brought it home from a garage sale. Off to the station to get gas. Mix in oil. Drive home. Fill weedwacker. Pull. Pull. Pull. Push little primer button. Make sure choke is set right. Pull. Pull. Listen to junior telling me how "it's not starting" and "I think it's broken". (Genius!) Pull. Curse. Prime. Pull. Rest for a few minutes. Pull. Pull. Pull. ALMOST START. Pull. Pull. Whimper. Pull. 30 more minutes of resting and pulling. Give up. Shoulder almost unusable. Have to ask wife to lift cold beer to lips. Next day, take to hardware store for tune-up. 3 weeks minimum before they can get to it. Decide to fix myself. 28 screws to get to carburetor, but it'll be worth it. Drive home. Open trunk. Show wife how it won't work. Pull. Starts. First time. Whimper. Stupid weedwacker, stickin' it to me.
• At farmer's market the other day. Shopping for a croc from this pottery dude who's always there. I like his stuff. So I'm ready to pull trigger and I go up and I pick up the croc I want and I kinda hem and haw and look half interested because that's how I play it when I'm scheming for a deal. It's like $38. The lady comes over and she's really nice and we talk it up and then the potter comes over and he's nice, too. We talk for a while then the potter dude goes to help someone other rube shopper and I put on my game face and break out the "would you take $35 for it?" routine and the nice lady gives me this little half frown and says "I'd rather not, but if you really need the $3, I suppose I'd take it." And I'm thinking to myself "well, no, I don't *need* it, I just spent $3 on a stupid scone from the French Meadow, and while it was good, $3 for a scone is just absurd" so I said “ok, no, I don't *need* it” and we laughed at the sillyness of the fake bargaining session we'd just had and I forked over the $38 and she bagged my croc nicely in tissuepaper so it wouldn't break. I would have done 2500 words on this one back in the day.