Admiring the beauty of the roses... but....
Asking... Why must we have to navigate thorns to get to the beautiful rose?
Such is life.
The sandbox is where we're taught to share everything. Yet, even bloggers with big (mouths) keyboards must keep some things to themselves. S* happens, check engine lights come on. For, everyone.
A beloved... last night, the beloved and mate...(I don't think I'll get in trouble sharing this from the sandbox!).. Drove to Caseys to get a refund for the pizza that was never delivered. The rose (many, many nights of good yummy, this kind, that kind, full bellies) had a single thorn.
Was decided to try 'the new restaurant in town'. Went. Two waitresses. Two customers. Beloved, and mate. The thorn, ouch, the waitresses argued over who had to wait on them. The 'loser' then hollered from the table she was sitting at "What do you want to drink?"
This all ain't from the movie (or was it just a song) "The way we were." It's the now, "The way we are." Sadly anyways. Not everywhere, but, twas, there - last night.
Then, when the order came, it was wrong.. Thinking, "I'll work with it - not sending it back to the kitchen for fear of gross punishment." An even deeper thorn mebbe.
One bite into hamburger - RAW. Damn prickly thorns! "Had them take it off (my meal) the ticket... sent it back.. fear of boogers (BIG thorns) or spit (wet thorn).. so.. ended up going thru the drive thru of good ole Mickey D's and actually had a few giggles over the whole deal." That be the rose of a vely nice relationship.
1,500 miles Southwest, four hungry gringos set out to find dinner. Sorry, they're closed. Oops, that one too. The work of a dadgum US/Mexican Border being shutdown for way too dadgum long (thorn), so, economy went South, laying off many beautiful Mehican roses.
Next joint. Filled to the gills. Nope, don't wanna wait that long. (Side note, I repeat myself. Side note, I repeat myself.) If you're ever starving and you sign into a restaurant with the host/hostess up front, tell 'em "Last name Starving", that'll get their dayum attention.
For however many days I've been turning red here but not getting a suntan, we've driven by a new, fancy looking joint, but, there are never any cars there. "I'm a big believer, no cars, huh uh, no go." That was repeated and repeated. Yet, us four gringos, last name Starving, were hungry.
Pulled in. Happy feller standing out front to greet us. "You take credit cards?" "Yes! (enter big, rosy smile here.)" Pulled in. The only ones in the joint. 200 chairs within. Learned the dude's name was Tayson (pronounced like Mike Tyson's last name).. He was a (very) happy fella. The rose of the night.
He literally bent over backwards to serve us. As we got our drinks, ordered, we too learned he's a budding pro boxer. Makey "Tyson" all the more interesting. "What's your record, when's your next bout?" "I'm 9 and 5... March (something or other, I forget)"... Any knockouts? "Si, ocho."
I could NEVER be a food critic 'cause there are only so many ways you can review a cheeseburger and fries. "Tyson" was a looker too. For that, we were happy for our beloved Margie. She's maybe twice his age, but HEY, when we're in the sandbox looking out, ordering food, us male piggos want to be staring across, giving our order to beautiful Senorita's, so, tit for tat rose.
Sure........ there are all sizes of thorns... burgers, panini's perty good.. fries terribly cold.. we coulda watched five rounds of a boxing match whilst we waited for our food to finally hit the table.. Hey, Tyson made our evening fun.
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The sandbox of life.
Victor? Yeah? You're not really gonna tell this one areya?
Mebbe.
Prolly.
Yes, I am.
Band camp. Long ago. Sitting "in the sandbox", which, is fancy for sitting in the sand, ,four of us. (2 thorns, 2 roses).. .. St. Thomas, Virgin Islands.. Magens Bay, literally, the most beautiful beach (rose) I've ever seen, been to in my life.
What that Zac Brown feller say? "Got my toes in the water, ass in the sand." Thirty minutes. An hour. Three times, waitress lady trapsed up and down Magens Bay, "I'll have a Corona with lime please?".. The mesmerizing ocean.. pulsating waves.. at peace. Our sandbox. ROSE. ROSE. ROSE. Onea them times ya pinch yourself and say "Hey, let's remember this forever, right Zac?"
OK, came time to leave (dangit.) We four, the two thorns and the two beautiful roses, stood to head to the car.
Except, fellow thorn and I had a little trouble getting up. No, NOT the Coronas. There was mebbe ten pounds of sand that had collected down there 'by the thorn'. Tain't fair! How come them beautiful roses ain't gots no sand down their drawers?
Only thing fellow thorn and I could figure... well.. (VICTOR, NO!) Victor say 'yes'. Only thing we could figure, we got them 'you knows' in the way. A hint might be to rearrange the letters in S A N D. (Enter blog reader forever blocking checkenginelight into future). Oh well.
Victor, one story you shouldn't shared about, from, the sandbox. Sorry, I will never grow up. Know I needta, can't.
Yeah but ain't life rosey?
Victor I suppose now you're gonna shoot your big mouth off and tell us about the softball team you played on called "The Nads", and, your group cheer was "Go Nads!" No, wasn't gonna actually, but thank you for doing so.
Love, Victurd
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