Memoirs of a Jaunty Jaunt to the Coast

A couple weeks ago, I traveled with a group of ladies and encountered a fellow who spouted off some rather unkind words about my friends. It is not good for women to be alone in such contexts, thought I, so I volunteered to accompany some female friends on a journey to a coastal town this past week.

I was glad I went. It was raining when we left, and the Dodge Caravan in which we rode had windshield wiper issues. The ladies allowed me to hop out intermittently and readjust the right windshield wiper.

I also had opportunities to utilize my God-given duct tape abilities, as the replacement window on the left side of the van threatened to eject some of our precious cargo without warning. At one point, while I was driving, I heard the crinkling of a plastic water bottle behind me and thought for sure we were down a passenger.

We were seven initially, but quickly became six, as the owner of the van had a sudden change of situation. We missed her company and thought about her often.












Upon arrival at our destination, we found cannons around every corner. I was blown away. Fortunately, none of the cannons were loaded.


What are these ladies looking at?

A fortress?

A boat?





It could have been birds.

The coast had seagulls aplenty.




One afternoon, as we eagerly awaited our server’s delivery of lunch to our table, a seagull swooped down and helped itself to table scraps on a recently-vacated table near us. We did our best to threaten it not to return, but despite our sustained efforts to bombard it with olive pits or to spook it with catlike hissing noises, this persistent seagull continued to pillage the nearby table. The only thing the gull changed was the direction from which it approached.









The restaurant offered a pigeon entrée. Some of us were tempted to ask if we could make specific requests.

The most senior lady on our trip reached a milestone birthday while we were gallivanting around the coast. We did all we could to make her birthday special. Also, we used her birthday as a bargaining chip whenever a situation arose when we needed a lower price or a dinner reservation at a full restaurant. Yes, we were shameless.

On one occasion, in an attempt to persuade a vendor to take a little more off his last price, we explained that our friend needed a birthday gift. The vendor promptly pulled out identification and showed us that his own birthday was the following day.










The vendor was disinclined to celebrate our friend’s birthday, but we didn't let him rain on her parade. We were fired up about her birthday. When a person reaches a certain age, candles simply no longer suffice. For those really big birthdays, only one thing will get the job done: flambé.

Speaking of lighting things on fire...we stumbled upon some peculiar signage along the beach. After moments of quiet reflection, we discerned the meanings of these signs. The first sign prohibits dogs with jagged tails. The second sign prohibits setting dogs with jagged tails on fire.





I wonder if the puppies pictured here will generate more comments than these puppies.

Chili Recipe

Well, apparently that last post was uncharacteristically serious for my blog. In an effort to preserve my blog’s readership (both of you) let me bore you with something else.

I should note that I have posted poetry previously. I have also posted recipes previously.

So I had folks over for chili the other night. Turns out my brother and his wife also had folks over for chili a few days ago. My sister-in-law raves about the family recipe, as well she should.

The following is not the family recipe. But I ate it anyway. And I pawned it off on my guests, and so far most of them still like me.

For enough chili to serve ten people, here’s what I throw in the pot...

• 2 lbs (1 kg) ground beef
• 1 chopped onion
• 1 chopped green pepper
• 1 chopped red pepper
• garlic, lots of garlic
• 1 jar of tomato sauce (spaghetti sauce), preferably with extra garlic
• 1 jar of tomato paste
• 1 jar of water to rinse out the tomato paste that sticks to the jar
• 1 jar of chopped tomatoes

I basically play with the consistency of the tomato ingredients until the chili is how I like it.

• 3-4 pounds (1.5-2 kg) kidney beans
  
• 4 tsp sugar
• 2 tsp salt
• 6 tsp chili powder

Out of consideration for those whose stomachs aren’t made of aluminum, I typically leave the hot sauce on the side, along with grated cheese and sour cream.

And now, Dad and Mom, feel free to explore this Christmas gift idea!

d’espoir

Resilient, the light flickers among the ashes.

Joyful, the light reveals just enough of the path to move forward.



Able is He to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine.

Be still and wait upon Him. You are not forgotten.

Puppies

A while back, I mentioned a dog that came to my birthday party.



















Now the dog has puppies.

Comeback Beef

I could have owned this cow.






In fact, for awhile I did own it. The cow signified that a person had composed the longest official word in our annual Speed Scrabble (“Take Two”) Tournament. My eight-letter “sunburns” held up until the final round, when my friend’s nine-letter “butchered” conquered it.


The man who axed my two-year longest word winning streak won the cow with the word “butchered”. Chalk up a victory for irony, as well.

There’s something in the air. On a night when my alma mater was on the losing end of the biggest college football comeback in Division 1-A history, I coughed up my longest word title, ending my winning streak at two years in a row.

And how about the World Series, which also commenced tonight, featuring two teams that came back after choking down the stretch? Kudos to the Cardinals, now the National League Champions, for sidestepping the ultimate choking scenario, thanks to a little help from the Houston Astros. Some sportswriters are less than enthusiastic, yea, whinging about this World Series and are likely to be none too pleased at the outcome of Game 1.

Enough of sports. I really wanted that cow. They didn’t have a cow when I won during the last two years. Maybe they’ll have a cow for me a year from now, when I make my own comeback with a fourteen-letter word.

In the meantime, the only cow-related thing I have with which to entertain you is a public service announcement.

Saha!

And now I’m going to get accused of thievery.

No matter – I’ve wanted to show the folks outside North Africa McRamadan ever since I learned about it nearly two and a half years ago...even months before I moved to a land that enables a person to break the fast with fast food.



When I first heard of it, I simultaneously wanted to tell everyone I knew and also wrestled with whether or not the concept was inherently culturally insensitive. Now, into my third year in North Africa, I no longer have such qualms.

Yes, McDonald’s exists in North Africa, and it proudly celebrates the month of Ramadan.


Saha!



(Arabic for “To your health!”)

Headgear

There comes a time in every man’s life when a choice must be made...

...to shine or to be chicken.

Wavering between these two is just annoying.