Well, not "just" . I just got back from six hours in the ER with a sick friend. This was earlier.
I'm a barbecue and Southern cooking fanatic, much to the disappointment of my doctor. Even without pork these days it's just the best stuff on the planet. And I keep asking the Big Guy "Lord, are You sure we have to give up eating pigs? I'd be willing to trade okra, brussel sprouts and turnips for bacon or ribs." So far there hasn't been any response
One of my favorite BBQ joints was Doris'. In fact, they catered our wedding *mumble* years ago. It looks like they've closed for good, so I'm trying to find another really good place close by.
Good barbecue is almost never in the best parts of town, and if you ask "Do you have plates?" and they answer "Of course" instead of plopping it down on waxed paper you might not be in for the best "Q" around. I've been in some pretty sketchy places on the lookout for yams, red beans and rice, 7-UP cake and big hunks of smoked animal flesh.
This is the first time I've ever warned myself away from a place. I had just driven up to a place and was getting out of my car. There was that unmistakable and undefinable vibe coming off the three or four guys hanging out in front of the place. It was something between "Go away, you don't belong here" and "Yeah, step a little closer". I've been a lot of places I didn't belong. This had a particular edge, so I turned right around, got into the car and drove off.
Later I was talking to a group of cops at Starbucks. They said the place had a bad reputation as a criminal hangout.
An outside observer might say it looked strange. But I was dead certain that taking another step towards the place could have been a really bad mistake. I don't know exactly what I was picking up on. In the last few years we've been working a lot on developing intention, hiding it, and getting a sense of it in others. I guess those little clues just all came together and told me to leave right away.
"And that," as Martha Stewart says, "is a Good Thing."
I'm a barbecue and Southern cooking fanatic, much to the disappointment of my doctor. Even without pork these days it's just the best stuff on the planet. And I keep asking the Big Guy "Lord, are You sure we have to give up eating pigs? I'd be willing to trade okra, brussel sprouts and turnips for bacon or ribs." So far there hasn't been any response
One of my favorite BBQ joints was Doris'. In fact, they catered our wedding *mumble* years ago. It looks like they've closed for good, so I'm trying to find another really good place close by.
Good barbecue is almost never in the best parts of town, and if you ask "Do you have plates?" and they answer "Of course" instead of plopping it down on waxed paper you might not be in for the best "Q" around. I've been in some pretty sketchy places on the lookout for yams, red beans and rice, 7-UP cake and big hunks of smoked animal flesh.
This is the first time I've ever warned myself away from a place. I had just driven up to a place and was getting out of my car. There was that unmistakable and undefinable vibe coming off the three or four guys hanging out in front of the place. It was something between "Go away, you don't belong here" and "Yeah, step a little closer". I've been a lot of places I didn't belong. This had a particular edge, so I turned right around, got into the car and drove off.
Later I was talking to a group of cops at Starbucks. They said the place had a bad reputation as a criminal hangout.
An outside observer might say it looked strange. But I was dead certain that taking another step towards the place could have been a really bad mistake. I don't know exactly what I was picking up on. In the last few years we've been working a lot on developing intention, hiding it, and getting a sense of it in others. I guess those little clues just all came together and told me to leave right away.
"And that," as Martha Stewart says, "is a Good Thing."
