Faced with two choices, take the third one
Sunday. The end of the grocery cycle. Faced with two choices for supper (thawed chicken whatevers from the freezer, or that can of meatballs and gravy that is kept around in case of emergencies), I opted for the third choice. Elsewhere.
As it happened, one of the local restaurants was serving up a boiled dinner; I grabbed the dog and my coat and pushed the designated driver into action. Perhaps the menu has gone in that direction before, but I’d missed out. Not this time. And so within the half hour, I was up to my elbows in root vegetables and pink meat. Yes, it was cooked. No, that’s the right colour.
And with that meal behind me, time to drive around aimlessly searching for bears. One can never be sure, even if the “last bear” has been just folklore for close to a century. Climate change. The bridge. Must check along the highways and byways. No, I didn’t spot the bruin, but we did end up at the campground. Summer isn’t over until the last RV crosses the causeway.
The owner was on hand (some people are bears for punishment), so we caught up on the news and as darkness covered the land, realized that the next camping season is only months away. OK, a lot of months, but the sentiment is real. I’m so keen that I decided to recharge the fancy camp stove (finding the proper USB cable took some time). I learned that a glass ball might not bounce, but it makes a big noise when it falls from high to low. I’ll bring that fact to the next trivia night.
