nah, i didn't think so.
but that's the name of this pathetically boring game show we had on our pbs station when i was a kid.
but it does remind me to be thankful for my colorful roots.
and no i don't mean maine was colorful in the skin tone department, cuz it's so cold there that even if there had been racial diversity, they would have ended up as pale as the rest of us.
thankful for my roots...
i am losing touch though...
becoming dependent on the strip mall, the convenience of freeways and abundance of shopping choices.
i need to remember that i grew up with a two hour drive between myself and the nearest mall.
things were so different there, so simple.
there were rich people and there were poor people, not much in between.
the ocean meant earning a living to most people.
and making it last through the winter.
or going out no matter what, like my dad.
earning him the knickname of hurricane bob.
a do or die business.
cutting trap lines could get a lobsterman dry docked.
stealing buoys, jailtime.
i am remembering this one time, i must have been 6 or 7.
the fog was so thick we were relying solely on radar.
and then we were right next to another boat.
they had a gun and were hostile.
my dad assured them we were just passing through, taking his boat to get repaired at some distant location.
they had been having trouble with trap cutters, and were waiting for the culprit.
cold, wet, salty air.
the smell of bait bags, the rumble of the motor, the foamy wake that disappeared into the fog so quickly.
and driving home after, falling asleep in the back seat.
i gotta go clean my house.
having a party tonight.
the pampered chef...
not tupperware, but close enough, so don't.
just do NOT fucking say a word.
i like to cook, okay?
and i'm good at it.
so put that in your pipe and smoke it.
no--put that on your plate and eat it.
hmm...throw me on the bed and eat---
someone click on post for me before i get in trouble.