"Break Even's" Update

One of my dreams is to have my own restaurant. I'd work the grill, bark at the waitresses, chat with the customers, much like Mel on the TV show Alice. It's like a retirement dream. I don't think it would be fun if I depended on the income, so the food will be affordable and good. It will be called, "Break-Even Stephen's", and it's Menu will be a dry erase board that will change upon what I feel like whipping up that day. It will be a hoot.

Every so often I will play in the kitchen working on menu items. This weekend seemed to be a spare rib weekend. I do ribs about three times a year, the last time was a debacle: overcooked and over seasoned. The only thing I didn't over-do was love. They were a classic case of under loved and neglected meat. What a pity. Most of the time I eat what I cook and it is fine. Sometimes I taste it and I don't want anything else to do with it; Not because it's gross, it's just because I don't have a desire to eat it, it's a complicated emotion. It is rare when I feel like I make something really good. Monday's ribs were one of those rare times that I did good. I couldn't get enough of them. I was very pleased with them. They may be a regular menu item.

I rubbed them, stacked them, wrapped them and let them rest overnight.

After about 6 hours of braising I finished them on the grill.

Horay for me.

The Law of the Harvest

It goes a little something like this,

.

When you put very little effort in...

....you get very little tomatoes.

I am not ashamed of this, I am proud of the fact that this plant is not dead, yet. Me, this plant, and my green thumb are a work in progress. And progrees is never something to be ashamed of. By the way, I cut these tomatoes up last night and put them in our salad and they tasted great!

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

My wife is a bargain hunter. She is a wheeler and a dealer. She knows that somewhere there is a better deal to be had and is determined to find it. She is a garage sale enthusiast. Every Friday night her spidey senses heighten as the the little signs and fluorescent arrows begin to appear on lampposts and street signs. She has taught me alot, because I used to think that garage sales and second hand stores were a little creepy. I am okay with garage sales, but second hand stores, still not so much.

The turning point on garage sales for me was when Rachel decided to host one. I vehemently opposed it, I didn't want to turn my front yard into a flea market, but then I remembered that my opinion only counts when it is line with hers and we had that garage sale. As the morning wore on I noticed that my yard and garage were being cleaned out...cleaned out at no cost to me! As a matter of fact, the cleaners were leaving money behind. People came to my house, gave me cash, and took my junk! Fascinating!

Garage sales are one thing, but there is another phenomenon that takes place on a monthly basis that I have not figured out. It's called bulk trash day. The third week of the month our town provides a bulk trash service. Simply place any large unwanted items at the curb and the waste management bubs come around in the old fashioned trash trucks and dispose if it. Well, they dispose of what ever is left after the rummagers have picked through it. Most of my bulk trash never makes it to a landfill.

Yesterday we set out an old broken lawnmower, a computer monitor, a broken printer, a corner desk, and broken computer chair, two trash bags of palm frawns, and a rickety old armiore. When I got the armoire to the curb one of my neighbors hollered from the park across the street, "That one's mine!". Awakward but sure enough, this morning when I left for work all that was left in my pile was the monitor, the corner desk, and the two bags of palm frawns. UH-mazing!

Random Act of Kindness

There is a commercial on TV that shows kind acts being perpetuated until the kindness comes full circle, some insurance company I think. I felt like I was in that commercial this morning.

This morning as I was making my rounds I was stopped at a signal in the downtown area. I watched as a man in a wheel chair was crossing the street, he was going slower than the flow of pedestrians as they filled the cross walk until one man came up from behind him. This man was dressed in a suit, one hand on the cell phone up to his ear, attache case on the opposite shoulder. I watched him as he very seamlessly, and unassuming pinned his phone between his shoulder and ear and with two hands pushed the wheelchair all the way to the sidewalk. Before the man in the wheelchair could turn around, suit man headed south on the sidewalk and the wheel chaired man headed east. I was glad to have witnessed that. This very witted man, even while on the phone, saw an opportunity to help and did it. It didn't even look like the other man got a chance to thank him, or even saw him for that matter. Those are my kind of people. Amazing how such a simple act can mean so much. So, thank you kind man in blue suit on phone with attache case and cigarette in mouth, you made my day.

A Coins' Flip of a Chance.

Pathetically, I have another quarter story.

It has been a relief of sorts for the past few months knowing that my state quarter collections were complete. Out of habit I still check the backs of the shiny quarters I get, but in the same moment, I remember that the quest is complete and I grin and go about my day. All of that changed last week. I noticed that in the change I received at the market was a very shiny quarter. I flipped it over and I did not recognize the image obverse to George Washington. I used to be so cool about getting a new coin but I was caught off guard. What could be the meaning of this? Duke Ellington and the District of Columbia? Oh no you don't, U.S. Mint!!! There are no more states. I was done. I was the conqueror. I have turned the page, I have moved on. How could you U.S. Mint? How could you? I don't want to collect the U.S. territories. but I am doomed to do so.

Ode to Rachel

I've heard it said that rain on your birthday is the angels above longing for their friend. I know that my wife is a special gal but when I woke up this morning and saw the wet streets and a soft rainfall I stopped and reflected upon her and her eternal value to host of heaven.

I may sound boastful and hopefully not too cliche when I express the awe that I am in when I consider all that my wife is. She is a worker. She is always on the move. Rarely is any of her efforts self serving or indulgent. Her mind and heart are always in tune with the needs of others. One of her credos is "Make sure no one is left out." She lives it.

She is true. There is only one way to be true and that is being true in every way. She is true to herself. True to me, true to the kids, true to her friends, and of course true to the Lord. With any success I have had or success I may have in this life it will all pale in comparison to the fortune I have by having this woman in my life.

So as the angels above may be weeping this morning, I am full of joy because I have my sweet Rachel with me forever.

Lost are the Days of the Afternoon Paper Route

As I was getting into my truck this morning I saw the morning paper on the driveway. I don't know why we are getting the paper because we don't read it, but to keep from cluttering up my driveway I picked it up and side-armed it onto the porch. As I made that motion and watched that paper twirl around and around until it glided onto the porch I was flooded with memories of my days as a paperboy. Ah yes and now I will wax nostalgic...

I was 11 when I got a paper route. It was not an easy feat to even get a paper route, but I managed to talk my neighbor into giving me his route because his little brother didn't want it.

I learned alot from that job.

I learned that you have to work everyday; even in rain, even on weekends, and even on Christmas. Adding insult to injury, the weekend papers needed to be delivered by 7am and usually were filled with all the coupons and special adds so they were huge!

I learned that some people seem to exist only to complain. I took pride in my work so I didn't like it when people complained. Some of the typical complaints were: wet paper, valid if it was raining, but if your sprinklers are set to run in the afternoon and they overspray to your porch that's on you! late paper, it needed to be porched by 5:30pm. I never ran late, but I would receive this complaint from time to time, I dealt with it. The one that takes the cake was the complaint that the paper was not CENTERED on the porch. What? No one in the circulation department could take up for me here? That jerk got a paper on the roof the next day.

I learned the value of money. The paper cost $3.25 per month. When I would go collecting, about half the people treated me like I was the repo man! "Can you come back another time?" "Is it already that time again? I just paid you!" "My husband has the checkbook". In retrospect, I'd say if you cannot afford it, don't get it. And stop grinding on a little kid over 3 bucks. I will say this, with 40-50 customers, I felt like a millionaire when I was collecting. Then the paper would bill me and I'd end up with about 50 dollars. It may as well been a million dollars, I was the richest kid I knew!

I learned how to make a job fun. My best friend got a route, and we would deliver both routes together. He'd take one side of the street, I'd take the other. We would laugh and laugh practically the whole time. Sometimes we'd race, other times we'd mess around, but it was always fun.

I guess I'd like to think that I have some of those qualities still to this day, thanks to my paper route. It is a shame that there is not afternoon papers anymore, it would be a nice experience for my boys.