I was on the trail and my phone buzzed to let me know I had voice mail. I missed a call, I suppose, I was just sipping coffee, and headed towards the pedestrian bridge. And home. Via BBQ.
Without thinking, I just returned the call.
“Hey, is this birthday a (sign) or a (sign)?”
I thought about it. Must be, what, 15, 16 years old.
“Isn’t that just a little young for you?” I asked.
What I missed was that it was one of her client’s daughter. Not a guy. I mean, birthdays are usually guys she’s interested in. So my question was valid. To a degree. Plus, when she repeated the question, there were howl of laughter in her salon. Hair person, you know.
The little Leo at the BBQ place greeted me for the usual two-meat platter, “Hey, how’s your girlfriend?”
“Which one?” I aksed, innocently enough.
“The one ‘with child,’ you know…”
“Oh, I haven’t seen her since Valentine’s Day. I think she was just using me.”
I must add, the food was good. I mean, really good. At that one place, it’s hit or miss. Sometimes, though, and this is rare, the beef was masterpiece of the smoker’s art. And the ribs, the pork ribs? Last of rack. Perfect, tender, chewy, crunchy and yet meaty, too.
I commented on the superb quality.
“I’ll tell the cook.” She hollered in Spanish.
“He didn’t say a thing.”
“Must be a Leo, too,” I suggested.
“That fits, oh man, that’s so right.”
Unrelated:
Fish of the day. (That’s a very big sunfish. Again.)
