A late breakfast, early lunch. Buttered two pieces of a very nice light rye from a local bakery. Covered one side with Tillamook Monterey jack, the other side with minced garlic. Stuck 'em in the oven. Threw some butter in a small pan, fried up about 1/3 cup of yesterday's excellent brisket we'd had from the new BBQ joint out here on the peninsula. That heated the fridge-cold meat and put a little bit of extra browning on it. Put the meat on the cheese-toast side, covered it with bread and butter pickle slices, slid the garlic-toast side over the whole business.
Home tonight, btw.
Driving home from Ocean Park, WA this evening with the Child snoozing in the back, I saw three things which twisted my wa just a little, each in different ways.
Way out in the boonies on State Road 4, I passed a hitchhiker. Strange place for it, a young Anglo woman, fairly well dressed, with sad eyes. Had I been alone I might have picked her up, but with the Child in the car I won't take on a stranger. Whatever her story was, it wasn't any of the usual roadside tales, I'm pretty sure.
Driving into Longview, heading for the bridge to Ranier, OR, I followed a 4x4 Toyota pickup. After a little while, I realized the truck had a dangling pair of testicles in the back, largish rubber ones hooked to the frame or something a little forward of the bumper. This means a) the driver was the sort of person who thought it amusing to put balls on his truck, and b) somewhere someone has seen fit to manufacture truck testicles.
On US Highway 30, I saw a guy holding up a cardboard sign. He was neither hitching nor panhandling as far as I could tell. The sign read "LOVE", then "PEACE" on the line below. The guy was hiding behind it, his head bowed. Was he praying, witnessing, atoning?
Happy Fourth, y'all.