Yesterday, we drove up to Los Angeles for an exciting peace event, where my daughter sang with the local church choir. Earlier today, my buddy Andy took us to Tommy’s, which he described as “an […]
This morning, as I stood in line at Wendy’s, something troubling occurred. The male manager—maybe store, maybe shift—slid his palm around one of the female cashier’s midriffs as he stepped around the counter and out into the restaurant. He slid his hand around her waist across her tummy. It was an affectionate touch, the kind a man might give a woman he loves. But she didn’t react as a lover might. Rather, she slightly stiffened, as did the casher next to her.
Of course, I observed a fleeting action, with very little context. But the touch troubled me. I left greatly concerned for both women and maybe others. For all I know, the boss is touchy with everyone, just a helluva friendly guy. But the cynic inside says there was more going on.
It’s Saturday, and that means baked beans throughout Northern Maine. Most grocery stores sell fresh-baked beans (no canned stuff) and bread hot from the oven. It’s longstanding tradition with roots going back to the Pilgrims/Puritans. The tradition mingles with another: Bean-hole Beans.
Early Massachusetts settlers adopted the Native American tradition of baking beans in pots buried in the ground. For the religious folk, beans baked overnight would feed people on the Sabbath, the day of rest, which started on Saturday evening. The Puritans adapted Native bean recipes, also replacing—or rather changing—corn bread for brown bread. Nearly 400 hundred years later, throughout much of Maine, the tradition of Saturday night baked beans is steadfastly observed, with family replacing religion.
My wife and daughter picked up this lollipop at a local store. Three bucks, or about the price of three songs from the iTunes Music Store.
My daughter and I hauled over to Quiznos for lunch. On Saturdays, kids meals are 99 cents. More importantly, it’s about 20 Celsius in Washington and perfect day for eating on Quiznos’ outdoor tables. Humph. […]
I get so steamed sometimes by some people’s rude behavior. My daughter and I stopped into the local 7-Eleven this morning for a quick burrito. While we were standing in line, this lady jabbering Spanish over a cell phone made a huge mess at the cappuccino machine (I use lower-case “c” because 7-Eleven Cappuccino isn’t).
She used the wrong size cup, which overflowed all over the machine and made a huge puddle of milky gunk on the floor. And she didn’t care! She continued talking on the cell phone!
When I do eat burgers, I’m a pretty much a hold everything kind of guy. I like the bun, slab of meat, and catsup; no veggies, please. But no matter what fast-food place I eat, cheese […]