My brain keeps me entertained.
To fulfill a reasonable request made by my daughter, we are going to barbecue tomorrow, using one of the grills at our local beach.
Stepping into the local supermarket, I realized that A)I had NO idea where the charcoal lives. I don't know if I've EVER bought it. I've helped barbecue when other friends have brought the grills, I've barbecued in my own back yard, many years ago, but, as far as I remember, a bag of Kingsford just kind of showed up
and B) I had no idea what charcoal costs. I couldn't help but remember the scene in Rain Man when Raymond, having been established at being brilliant with abstract numbers and with estimating and rememebering, has no clue about dollar values; "How much does a car cost?" "About a hundred dollars?" "And a candy bar, how much does a candy bar cost?" "About a hundred dollars." Seriously, as far as I knew, a bag of briquettes costs "About a hundred dollars."
The aisle marked "Pet Food, Kitchenwares, Picnic," among other things? Absolutely briquette-free. So, I stood and tried to grab the memory that was darting just out of reach at the very back of my mind. Finally, it came to the front. Me, anywhere from maybe 6 to maybe 14, standing in shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops, either in Southern California or Florida, goosebumpy from the AC, reading the labels on the Duraflame logs and charcoal briquettes in the front of the store, waiting for my mother to finish checking out. ONWARD AND FRONTWARD!
A small, one use bag is $3.99. Good to know.
There will be marshmallows, too.