Baptism of fire
The first barbecue of the season. A baptism of fire. Tonight I limited the sacrifice to the deities (by leaving my bottles of cheap sauce in the refrigerator). After all, as I’ve always explained to the family, the meat isn’t burned… it’s the sauce.
My altar of immolation is special. A little old, a little grumpy, hard to get started and even harder to control. Hidden under a cover, most of the time, and brought out for special requests or occasions. Like me, in reflection. If those cellphone commercials that compare the mutt to the owner are believable, then why can’t I claim to be family to a food furnace.
Anyhow, my steaks were excellent (I asked the others; this isn’t just my opinion). Paired with a fresh salad, the supper was easy to prepare and highly appreciated. And as for the special occasion – summer vacation started for someone else in the house, today. My turn will come, and I intend to put in a request for a boiled dinner. Do they serve that in Newfoundland? We shall see.
I’m trying to understand the decision by Canon to make fitting a filter to their Sureshot series cameras into something difficult. Expensive adapter rings. Oversize glass. Nothing available without paying to the lords of shipping. In a different world, the camera manufacturer would take pleasure in providing a filter to protect the lens.
In the background, a copy of Garage Band for the iPad is filling the quiet of an evening at home with canned music and synth drums. When is my turn?
