Order a Bride With a Side of Fries
I am often asked where I get the ideas for my blog. Usually, I answer its the stuff that happens with my kids, ex-wife, family, and just every day life.
For example...
This past Fourth of July I spent it at my sister’s house in Pennsylvania. Her boyfriend, Bill, is like a little kid when it comes to fireworks. Chairs were set up along her driveway, while Bill backed his truck to the edge of the lawn, and popped open the back.
Like a kid at Christmas, Bill’s face lit up as we oohed and aahed at the impressive amount of power he was about to unleash.
As the sun set, people moved to their chairs while Bill began to assemble his makeshift launch pad.
Just then, people popped open plastic containers with food in them. I stood behind some of my sister’s friends. One of the women noticed and offered me a sample.
“Al, would you like something?”
I looked in the plastic, saw something ‘green’, and politely declined.
“Why,” she asked after my rebuff, “don’t like Brussels sprouts?”
I replied, my kids are very healthy eaters, but the food they eat, like Brussels sprouts, I shun like Dracula does Holy Water.
Then I told them what my friend Joe observed about me recently. After he witnessed me order my umpteenth dinner of chicken fingers or mozzarella sticks in the bar for dinner said, “Al, I swear, you eat like a twelve-year-old boy.”
That is true, and to prove that, the night I wrote this blog, I had a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich for dinner. I might eat like a twelve-year-old-boy but I do have the stomach of a sixty-three-year-old man.
I washed the whole thing down with a big glass of Lactaid.
Back to my sister’s lawn…
After my admission of eating like a twelve-year-old, I added that if I ever got married again, I would serve chicken fingers and fries at the reception.
“I love crinkle cut fries,” someone chimed in, “be sure to have some of those.”
Another voice added, “I like fries that have the skin still on them.”
I assured them that I would have a full fries bar along with a chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks buffet.
“Who am I kidding,” I said as more plastic containers filled with healthy food passed around me, “I’ll probably never get married again.”
“Sure you will,” someone said, “once you meet the right someone.”
“Well,” I replied, “haven’t really had too many second or third dates lately.”
Then added, “If I did get married again, I’d have to order a bride with a side of fries.”
Everyone laughed, and I thought maybe I’ll right a blog of that.
Now you know how blog post are born, just from weird conversations under an exploding July Fourth sky.
Photo by Blake Schultz Photography / Caters News
