Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting:

Why must you be so cantankerous?

I’m not. I’m a people person.

No, you’re not.

Yes, I am. I’m just not an idiot person.

Driving by the Bruces

I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: There is an unending stockpile of people who want to be president of this fine country. Life is a walk in the park, sometimes one where no one picks up after their dogs. It’s hard to lose weight when you own silverware.

The cafe chronicles

The waitress spilled my tea. That was good. I was too tired to do it myself. The cook had buttered the toast on both sides so that my lower lip could enjoy it, too.

I scream. You scream. We all scream. It wasn’t for ice cream. It was because Old Man McGinty, the youngest Old Man McGinty ever, had left his hearing aids at home. He determined that it was important that he let us all know that he didn’t like hotdish because it looked like someone had already eaten it. I asked him, “To what do you attribute your longevity?”

He smiled, it may have been gas, and said, “My birthdate.”

An alligator would have spit

I’d returned from telling tales in Louisiana. A friend asked if I’d seen any alligators. I’d seen a congregation of them. I was told that is the most commonly used collective noun. The friend asked what was the difference between a crocodile and an alligator? The difference is when you see them. You’ll see a crocodile in a while and an alligator you will see later.

I was happy to see a lucky 10-year-old relative carry the rosin bag to the pitcher’s mound at the start of a Minnesota Twins baseball game. As one who loves baseball, he was a happy camper, but I’m sure several in the family breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t spit before leaving the mound. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the Twins have a spitting coach.

Poutine on the grits

I saw a mobile food stand headed down the highway. OOf-da Tacos of Erskine, Minnesota. The name made me smile and say, “Uffda!”

I’ve not had an OOf-da Taco, but I’ve eaten poutine in Canada and in Minnesota. It’s french fries and cheese curds covered in brown gravy. Gravy covers a multitude of sins. I’ve eaten grits in the south and here. Grits have become available almost everywhere. Hominy grits are coarsely ground, hulled corn that is boiled and served as a breakfast dish. The first time I ordered breakfast that came with grits was a long time ago. I didn’t know what it was. I asked and the waitress told me that it was grits. I said that I hadn’t ordered grits. She replied, “Honey, if you didn’t want grits, you shouldn’t have ordered breakfast.”

I should have asked her how to eat grits. I had the part about using silverware to shovel it into my mouth figured out, but that was it. I had to wait until the guy at the table next to me got his grits for breakfast so I could see what to do. He put butter and salt on them.

A good Midwesterner might assume you put milk and sugar on them like oatmeal, creating a sweet porridge. That’s good, but maybe not the best way to eat grits. Grits have a corny taste, somewhat like corn chips. They are meant to be served as a savory hot dish. You can top them with bacon or cheese. I know they’d be good covered in brown gravy or maple syrup. Everything is.

How are grits? They are as good as grits.

Nature notes

Duane Swenson of Waseca asked if all grasshoppers could fly. There are more than 10,000 species of grasshoppers. Most of them can fly, but not all of them. They develop wings as adults.

“How can I get the boxelder bugs off the siding of my house?” If you asked them nicely to scram and they didn’t, mix an ounce of dish soap to a quart of water or 1/2 cup to a gallon of water and spray it on them. That should send them to the happy house wall in the sky.

Meeting adjourned

“The best way to cheer yourself is to try to cheer someone else up. — Mark Twain