Five am wake up:

Dreams are lost to my change-jangled mind. My long contained frustrations are closer to the surface then I ever recall seeing them. A lost weekend as per usual has pressure valved the rising steam, but not the momentum. This train is still bound for glory, this train. Saturday I did both a great deal of reading and a great deal of napping. I spent time over at Angela’s and had anxiety dreams about moving to the ville without a sure job. I ended up living in the dorms. I don’t need a psyche degree to interp that – we have a one to one ratio. Melissa Q was in my dream, raising crickets for a pet of some kind – just what I need, archetypal snakes in my psyche fed by Melissa. Her twin sister Becky should be giving birth any day now. We saw just her at John and R’s party and mitosis seemed immanent. So that probably explains Melissa’s cameo.

Angela has television, which can eat your head if you’re not used to it. We watched Goonies, which she had never seen. Sunday I went golfing in the am with Brad and John, our threesome was joined by a guy named Mike who gave us all great pointers and was very patient with us. Even still, my golf game degenerated into a form of croquette where the object became hitting as many trees as possible. Mike, “You realize that you just hit a sapling. What is that, an inch in diameter?” To suck that badly requires a special kind of talent.

Brad, “Did Karl tell you about his game?”

Mary, “I hear he’s an amateur arborist.”

After the links, the feast:

Once again ghetto Schnucks was out of tonic so Brad got us strawberry daiquiri fixins. While the usual suspects smoked and sauced I fired up two grills and did corn, hobo stew, and acorn squash in butter and brown sugar on one grill and on the other grill I slow roasted chicken leg thy combos, which had spent the better part of the day in a vat of Stubb’s special marinade. I smoked them with hickory chunks that had been soaking in water since Saturday morning.

Thick clouds of hickory smoke rolled out of the four vent holes in the top of the meat grill, while the inside dining room bar clouded with the exhalations of the various brands of the attendees, both brought and bummed. John brought Macanudo cigars, so eventually even the patio air was seasoned with hand rolled heaven.

Hobo stew:

Thinly slice four to five potatoes and place on a sheet of tinfoil
Cover with onion soup mix
Cover soup mix with diced carrots and a sliced onion
Salt and pepper
Melt one stick of butter and pour it over the contents
Add also a quarter cup of water

Using three to four additional sheets of tinfoil – seal this combo and throw on grill until psychic forces inform you that it is done. You can flip it once after you sense that the potatoes are browned. If cooked with squash you can use squash as an indicator.

Once upon a time there was a thing known as Karen and Karl's Kirksville Cajun Kegger.

I feel a Cajun party coming on – gumbo anyone?