Of Speedos and Canned Peas

Tomorrow an errand will find me very close to Revere Beach in Revere, Massachusetts. I'm keen on spending time at the shore when I have the chance. A sojourn along the coast is like walking the streets of a frontier town. Safe where you are, but just a short distance away from a vast, lonely and unfamiliar expanse of wilderness. It's possible to walk into the frigid brine and furious currents of Broad Sound and disappear for good. Expeditionary fleets of ice-breaking ships have struck out to discover the Northwest Passage and never been heard from again, leaving countless people behind to woefully contemplate their undiscovered fate. The ocean got them, along with those tricky tempestuous vapors. What chance would I have? I'm an outstanding floater (fat people float well), but that isn't going to help me against raw riptides, hypothermia, rabid seagulls, and Jaws-sharks. For me, the ocean is for lookin' at, not for playin' with, like a beautiful mafia wife to a jealous, paranoid, and psychotic hit man.

Any human going toe to undertow with the sea will find themselves humbled, and most likely with sand in his or her crack. I've no plans to delve into that foamy frontier. The most adventurous endeavor for Nancy and I may be to get a roast beef sandwich at Kelly's, which is unlikely. For someone with an irritable bowel, that can also be a humbling experience.

If one is of a mind to visit the sea, the best time is anytime but the summer. The crowds are too much for yours truly. And the beach crowd is particularly unsavory in Revere. Too many hirsute old Italian men in Speedo's, flippin' and floppin' all over the place.

In other news, Nancy made a magnificent dinner tonight. A delectable pasta dish. The woman is a magician in the kitchen. I didn't know that she had such skill when I proposed to her! I knew about her sexiness, beauty, magnificent hair, intelligence, sense of humor, strength and ability to drink me under the table. But over the past few months she has revealed herself as a cookie who can really cook.

What other talents does this woman possess? Is she a cribbage champion? A needlepoint prodigy? Can she make clothes out of paper towels? Can she leap tall buildings in a single, or perhaps double, bound? Only time will tell. But she is really starting to show off here. She is even compelling me to eat healthier, fresher food. There was a time when I was perfectly fine with canned peas. Now I have to have frozen. The woman won't even let me keep a canned pea in the house. Now that I've had several meals with crisp and tasty frozen peas instead of mushy, salty canned peas, I'm hooked. And how she gloats about it, too.

What a woman. What a cook. And what peas, so bursting with country fresh flavor!