Friday Feast — The Tugboat

Friday was another day to get through. With no more summer hours I’d have to take it to the limit. I had a nice breakfast with my murderer’s row of plants. I’m getting a solid inside collection built again. I suspect there will another morning glory added to the squad at some point soon, I planted some harvested seeds in an empty pot to see what would happen. The day started off with a regular call. Most it had nothing to do with me so I worked away on my own stuff in the meantime. I had a few more things to get ready before my life on the road started. I wished a colleague happy birthday, she was not expecting it. It’s nice to be nice.

I spent most of the morning on the phone, apparently I’ve become popular recently. Or I was planning tours at other people’s locations and had to work out the details for these three events with multiple people per location. The good news is that I didn’t really need to be staring at my screen while having these conversations and generally the topic of my meetings was only a miniscule portion of what was discussed. Nothing was critical but I was an ear for folks to vent to. While I wasn’t at the helm I used my Swiffer Duster to clean up all the old trophies that I’d located in my hunt for the GI Joes. I also cleaned up the shelf and relocated what was there in order to display the successes of my childhood. It’s better these are out than getting destroyed at the bottom of a large cardboard box. The trophy I’m most proud of is the tallest one, that was for winning player of the tournament at baseball tourney when I was around eleven or twelve. The one I find the most enjoyable is the clock, that is my award for being inducted into the Tri-Town Lacrosse League’s Hall of Fame as a builder. I coached for two years in the very first years of the league. They were also the very last years of the league. Things folded up pretty quick after Admiral Bonesaw and I quit coaching when we went away to school. I think the two of us and maybe one other person were ever inducted into that exclusive Hall of Fame.

Included in the collection of trophies is the now faded but otherwise infamous Pat Hengten autographed ball. The legendary story told many times by Big T, rarely without tears, is something most of my friends are familiar with. The most celebrated retelling of that tale was of course in Jamaica at Meat Man’s wedding. For those that didn’t know, it’s a true story, here is the proof. I wonder if my catcher, Admiral Bonesaw still has his signed ball.

I muddled through the workday with just another can of soup for lunch. The afternoon was shorter, I wrapped things up at half four and got into my MSF while I killed time before the Family Feast. This was going to a strange one. Sudbury Sister wasn’t going to be joining us this time. Her and the Irish Gal were away, going to the Big Smoke to attend some type of social function. It was just going to be three households mixing it up this time. The meal this time around was planned to be Italian Stuffed Cubanelle Peppers. The only problem for me is that I was too lazy to hunt around much for actual cubanelle peppers, so I went with regular green peppers. I wasn’t the only one who did that. We ended up with some very different looking versions this time around. This was supposed to be a slow cooker recipe but we pulled an audible and on the advice of STL Sister wer used the oven at the settings she concocted. Turns out that wasn’t enough for mine or my peppers were more densely packed. I tried some of it and it was fairly raw, left a gross taste and fear in my mouth. I’m not sure I ever got it cooked enough but after a second tour inside the oven I wolfed it down anyways. For some reason this one wasn’t my favourite, it was good but I’m not sure I’d do it again on my own.

After we ended around the normal time I decided I should shut it down. Not wanting to get into any kind of show or commitment other than what I had already I retired to my quarters for some light MSF and then some YouTube. I ended up listening to a podcast until I passed out around ten. My slow transition to early nights and early risings had begun. I’d need that adaptation in a couple of nights.