The Red Head and I were both born and raised in the Hawkeye State, a dandy Midwestern dream. A professor introduced us to each other; we became the best of friends, lovers and then a happily married cornfed couple. Every time that the tires of the ATM cross that magical line cutting through the Mississippi, a warm fuzzy fills my belly. My recent forging of the muddy river was not much different from those of the past, other than the empty passenger seat. Having added over 110,000 miles to the ATM's 240,112, patterns of toilet breaks have emerged. Please keep all judgement in your wallet with that condom you have been saving for the "right" time since your sophomore year of high school - without my Red Head copilot I was able to implement a handy pee cup, saving 15 minutes per piss. This valuable savings afforded a streamline shot from Allen House Chicago to Castle Parecki.
Each of the five acres that form Castle Parecki's immaculate grounds and gardens is an adventure for the hounds, Lucile Vanderbilt and Sir Winston Woo. The instant I open the ATM's door they are on the hunt for smells that could never be found on Chicago's north side; fresh air, cow shit, sweet smoke billowing from combines, industrial hog confinements and a doe eyed optimism for the brighter side.
Fine food from mom's catering repertoire is forced upon arrival, departure and even more for the road. A perpetually full coffee carafe resides on the counter next to the half dozen plastic cups branded with each of the daycare kids' names. Two nights and three days where food became a culinary blur and the hounds slept out of necessity rather than boredom made for a swell jump into the adventure canoe.
No comments:
Post a Comment