“You should shoot a video of this.”
I am not a smart person. If you hear someone say this to your spouse, you probably should be concerned. Or maybe run for your life. Sadly, I had neither reaction.
We’ve stopped in the town square in Mason, a little town in sort of central Texas on the way to the parents’ house. We’re shooting photos of old architecture and just hanging out. I love little towns.
We look at an antique store that has a collection of old flashlights. These are the flashlights I used as a lad, a clear signal that I also am an antique. A notice on the door tells of a woman’s death. Brother the Elder says they do that because the paper only comes out once a week, and people in small towns go to a lot of funerals. As we stand there, we’re drawn to a heavenly aroma.
The Mason Lions Club is cooking hamburgers. They smell AMAZING. These guys know what they’re doing, in the small town big barbecue grill good ol’ boy real deal kind of way. Mo is drawn to them like BK is drawn to catnip.
As we stand in line, I see that Mo is cold. The temperature is below 70, making it a bit harsh for a T-shirt. I head for the car to grab some flannel for her. I am a good person.
When I return, she has just finished with the Fixin’s Guy. Yes, the Lions Club has a Fixin’s Specialist. Did I mention they’re serious about their burgers?
I nervously ask, “Did she tell you no onions?” With a smile, he assures me, yes, no onions. Then he turns to Mo and says, “You should shoot a video of this.”
I shrug. Small town humor. Whatever.
We go over to a row of tables. In the proper Texas style, six guys, ranging from 15 to 70 years old, are seated at one of the tables. They’re not talking much, mostly just sitting and watching the world go by at a pace worthy of a lunch break on a workday.
Six women are seated at the table next to them, the conversation revved up to NASCAR levels. It’s good to see that the Proud Texas Tradition of men in the front seat and women in the back translates to burger cookouts as well.
There’s only one other table, so it’s impossible for Mo and me to sit at separate tables. She watches intently as I bite into my burger. I had no idea my dining was so entertaining.
As I savor the first taste, I feel the heat in my mouth. A small flamethrower has taken up residence under my tongue. Jalapeños. Lots and lots and lots of jalapeños.
Mo smiles and says simply, “no onions.”
Mo is a bad, bad person. She should have shot a video of this.