Tonight, I was frying up some chicken. Nothing special, some boneless chicken breast dusted with garlic, chunked up and dipped in a good egg batter and rolled in cornmeal, flour and spices. Hot oil, quick fry, into the bowl while it still hissed, not a drop of leftover oil on the paper towels. A good fry.
Nora and I were watching some Robert Duvall film on television, having a cigarette on the porch, and I said, "you know, enjoying something simple, we're pretty good at that. We've had great steaks in Manhattan, crabs in Ocean City, been to nice places from Kansas City to Princeton, New Jersey. We'll do all those things again."
We then recounted all the crazy expenses we've had this last year and a half, everything from a new engine for the TDI to a lot of unpaid leave from work, Ben's expensive and ultimately terminal surgery, Mary's leukemia, Simba's thyroid, Max's eye, repairing a lot of damage to Nora's Impala. Medical expenses, legal expenses. Time off for my father's death. Probably thirty-five grand if we stopped to think about it.
But we usually don't.
The house is upright, the cats and wabbits are OK, we're comfortable, there's a metric assload of raspberries out in the yard, the pipes aren't leaking, bills are mostly paid.
And there's a bowl of real chicken nuggets. Crunchy, spicy, juicy.
I think that's all anybody should really expect of their life at any given time. That it be those three things.
1. Bob Balaban07/19/2008 09:34:18 PM
Ok, fine, but can you still afford bourbon? I mean, really GOOD bourbon? (I know you know what I mean). I can't, and that sucks.
2. Jerry Carter07/09/2008 03:24:55 PM
Mind if I say you've elevated enjoying the simple life to an art form? Or maybe a science... though that sounds like it would take too much effort. Some convocation of mastery, at least, is in order.