To Thine Own Self, Be Food

Hurrah...hurrah.  The eggs go marching one by one, the little one stop to suck his thumb...and they all go marching in...to the earth...to get out of the rain. My oldest son used to love singing this song when he was little.  Except, we would sing "ants" instead of "eggs".  Nowadays, he prefers Maroon 5 and Macklemore.  Alas. Oh.  My teenage sources inform me:  It *is* supposed to be ants instead of eggs.  In the song.  Okay.  But, that's the beauty of one-syllable words.  Makes song lyric substitution a beautiful thing. So.  Easter.  Rabbits.  Fertility.  Rebirth.  Eggs. I like hard-boiled eggs.  Cooked just right, bright yellow yolk, little salt and pepper...?  Yes. And when someone brings huevos de diablo to the family potluck, I enjoy them that way too.  In fact, they often are one of the first things to disappear...especially if Brent is present at the same family potluck. ...

When a simple project that should really take 26 days ends up taking over three months...then it's probably time to table it for awhile.  And honestly, I didn't want to post here unless I had a letter for you.  But I rarely had a letter, so I rarely posted.  Trapped, as it were.  So, I'm letting the project go for awhile.  I want to write more often here, and now, I suffer no more from the paralysis. WanderLunch the food truck is now open for the season.  Our first day, Saturday the 12th, was a long, but profitable day.  Then, we opened for our weekly lunch crowd on Thursday and Friday, and those days were a disappointment.  We had low turnout both days, and I have no reason why.  Maybe it's still too cold, maybe people have forgotten about me - hard to say.  It's completely possible people really are not liking my sandwiches anymore and instead of telling me, they're just not coming 'round.  Worst case scenario, right there. ...

My food truck business started back up this past weekend, and from here until November, the weeks will be packed.  Sandwich-slinging Thursday-Saturday and bartending work Monday-Wednesday.  And Sunday, I guess, is the day to sleep in and hide in my house. Hiding out is the one thing I feel like doing a lot of these days.  My food truck's ReOpening wasn't the only thing happening in my hometown this weekend past.  A 13-year-old boy was accidentally shot and killed on Saturday and then yesterday, the police department busted one of the biggest meth labs in a long time. Both are tragic...one is a sad loss, one that will devastate a loving family for the rest of their lives.  One is tragic only because of the profound stupidity/ignorance/addiction of a few people who happen to be living in a town mostly filled with good-hearted, hard-working people. And if it's not drama at the local level, then there's the constant bombardment of news that seems to be vividly...