Primed, Retied and Full of Swine

Weekend Update!!!

Well, I got the kitchen all primed up and ready to go. You'll all be happy to know that I opted for a warm green (tough to explain) color, inspired by the packaging on an old bottle of imported gin I had laying around. It also seems to be the same color as my small plates, oops. I forgot I signed up to give blood tonight, so I'm not sure whether I'll get to painting tonight or not. I had planned on leaving work early to do that but A) I have to give blood and B) I got into work late. Tee hee.

I'm sure anyone who's been around me in the last month has heard me bitch about my foot being sore (as hell). I read an illustrated article about shoe tying/lacing techniques that people use to alleviate problems they may be having. Lo and behold, one of them seems to have solved mine. I was thinking surgery, orthotics, complaining, etc was the route to go, but a simple adjustment in my lacing technique and I'm back on top. Two long weekend trail runs with ZERO problems.

PlacaTAN!

Hmm, what else is new? Oh, interesting stories about running this weekend. You may all find these droll, but they were funny to me at the time so you have to listen.

NUMBER 1:

One of the main dudes in the group in which I run - named 'Bad Jim' - is the leader in that he always leads the runs. He knows every trail backwards and forwards, which is mind boggling to me. Yesterday I was up in the front of the pack running with BJ and he started to veer over towards a trail. I pulled the old "follow from the front" maneuver, where I'm not really leading, I'm just in the front. Someone comments "Oh, Todd's leading us today?" to which I responded "Nope, just in the front. As soon as I don't hear voices I'll know I should have turned."

Eeeerronnngg.

We get to a fork in the path and I stop to wait for directions. BJ starts grilling me "Where do we go? Go ahead (in a condescending BJ way), pick a direction." Don't get me wrong, he was busting my balls, not being as ass. I reinforced my position as follower and he offered to "take over from here". At which point, we turned around and headed back from whence we came. The entire time I was in front, I was going the wrong way. Most everyone knew it but they let me lead for the sole purpose of being able to bust on me about it afterwards. Jerks!

NUMBER 2:

Sunday was the birthday of one of the women in the group. In celebration we took her out to breakfast at Bob's Country Kitchen (mmm MMMM, bitch). After receiving her cards and gifts, she hit the bricks. Those who remained dined on the finest country cooking this side of the Housatonic. Following BJ's lead, I opted for the Farmer's Omelet. To those of you unfamiliar with such an omelet, it's also called a Garbage Omelet, and consists of whatever the cook feels like putting in it. After explaining to the waitress that we've ordered this before, she seemed content and left.

Minutes later, the cook came over to ask about the FO. Here's how the conversation went...

Cook: Did you order the Farmer's Omelet?
BJ: Yeah.
Cook: What's in that? I've never heard of it.
BJ: I think you guys call it the garbage omelet. It's whatever you feel like putting in it.
Cook (not grasping that it's the cook's choice): OK. So what do you want in it?
BJ: Whatever you'd like to put in it.
Cook (seemingly confused): You want bacon, ham, sausage?
BJ: Sure, whatever you want to add.
Cook (still confused): Does it have veggies?
BJ: Okay. Anything you like.
Cook: Meat and veggies, just meat or just veggies?
BJ: Yes.
Cook: Cheese?
BJ: It could, sure. Whatever you want to put in it.

The cook leaves and seems to understand. When the waitress comes over with our orders, the omelets are ENORMOUS. The cook put a lot of everything in them, so much that the eggs didn't wrap all the way around the fillings. Hasidic Jews and the Nation of Islam were outside protesting the gross quantity of swine in these omelets, on the Sabbath no less!!

Neither of us could finish the meals, but Oh My God did it taste good. Note to self, just get the pancakes next time.

Well sweet readers, I'm done. There's surely more to tell but this should hold you until next time.

Over and Out,
Old Coot