I’ve got eleven bucks invested in a pack of skinless, boneless chicken breasts and it’s too windy to grill them.
This will work!
I set up our little charcoal grill, the folding table, and the camp chair that I don’t care gets dirty. The briquettes, although laced with cancer-causing chemicals to encourage quick-starts, refuse to light due to the wind.
Let’s see . . . Oh, I know!
I pull out the dash protector from the PTV and wrap it around the chair to serve as a wind block. Some paper stuffed under the briquettes and bingo! We’ve got fire!
The crew loves this routine.
I pour a little canola oil on the chicken, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and carefully place each piece above the white briquettes. These chicken breasts are huge, so when they’re slightly charred on the outside, I take a pair of scissors and cut them into filets. A little more time over the heat and they’re cooked perfectly!
The three of us feast on chicken until full.
The rest goes in a Rubbermaid container in the refrigerator. Life is so much easier with cooked chicken on hand to put in green salads or to make fajitas. And there’s nothing like a surprise chicken snack to make the crew happy!
I set up the Mick Stick for a photo shoot.
I love the walking stick Mick sent me!
I never used a walking stick before this one arrived. I didn’t think I needed one. Now that I’ve used it on a few walks, I can see the benefit.
My ankles twist very easily and the stick helps me avoid that, especially when walking over loose rocks. It also came in handy during our recent coyote encounter. It made me feel empowered so I didn’t give off a fear scent.
And then there’s the Bridget situation.
She should wear a bumper sticker on her butt that says “Warning: I brake for no reason.” We’re out walking and I almost fall when she stops quick, causing me to trip over her, but the Mighty Mick Stick saves the day!
Gee, Bridget, get some brake lights or sumpthin!
After the grilled chicken lunch, the crew and I make the short trip into the town of Ash Fork.
I want to stop by the post office to see if the breakaway cable has arrived. I’d call ahead to check, but post office rules forbid giving General Delivery information over the phone.
I don’t expect much of this town. I learned from the internet that it’s been wiped out by fire a couple of times since its founding in 1882. In fact, it used to be on the other side of the tracks previous to one of its fires.
Flagstone and being on the old Route 66 are its points of interest these days.
I leave Bridget and Spike squalling in the PTV and browse through the town’s impressive museum.
The post office sits at the top of wide, flagstone steps.
No package for me inside, just a couple of elderly locals hanging around, joking with the postman behind the counter. I’ll check back tomorrow.