Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Some just don't know what they are missing

It was a beautiful drive home. Top was down. Warm air blowing by me as I did 70 down I 45. I cruised past the stadium, smiling about my first place Milwaukee Brewers. It was about 80 degrees out (supposedly).

But as I got downtown, it was cooler. Much cooler. The Allen Bradley weather tower told me it was 60 out. Big difference from when I left work.

That changed as I got to the end of the Hoan Bridge where it warmed up again. Nice. That meant it would be a nice night to grill out. And I did. I tossed a nice ribeye onto the grill and let it sizzle away. It had all day to marinate (very simple marinade is best to me) and when I cut into it, it was done a perfect medium rare. It melted in my mouth. It was so good, that I ate a bit of the fat with the edge pieces just to taste the grilly goodness of each bit. It was that good. Good thing I have a t-bone waiting to be devoured as well.

I was in a good mood this morning. Talked with the most positive man in the world for a couple of minutes when he dropped of my paper. This guy works hard at a couple of jobs and is a true inspiration. Never down, always upbeat. The guy who will find the sunny side of any cloudy day. He made me feel better as I read the news.

That was until my co-worker came in. He is a good guy too, but he is pretty different than me. He just about blew my morning. He asked if the boss had gotten to me at all (she was suppose to contact us yesterday about an impromptu meeting). He then said that she would be on vacation for a week. He said "It is just me and you".

My immediate response was "A subject to the blues now and then". His response was a blank look. He just doesn't know what he is missing. Nuff said.

Amazing how the music your parents listened to can stick in your head and pop out at the strangest moments. I recall driving up north in my dad's Cutlass Supreme listening to 8-tracks. It was usually the American Graffiti soundtrack, Neil Diamond, Three Dog Night, or Tony Orlando and Dawn. Yeah, my dad was hip. Some of that stuff still haunts me to this day. But in a good way.

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