I’m back and I’m blogging, baby. Aren’t you glad?
Here’s what I’ve been up to since I last posted: Jill A. was here in DC visting me and Lindsey L. last week. Then Jill and I went down to my adopted hometown of Beaufort, South Carolina, last weekend. Among other things, we ate and we ate and we ate some more.
My favorite meal was at Duke’s BBQ, a fine establishment that whips up what is hands-down the best southern food I’ve ever tasted. Duke’s features home-made pork rhinds and gizzards and hash and rice, and all the utensils are plastic and everything else is styrofoam. The clientele is not petite: at 6’3″ and 200 pounds, I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I am within the lower 10th percentile of the collective Body Mass Index of Duke’s clientele. Including–no, especially–the ladies. (There is nary a belt in sight at Duke’s. It’s all elastic waistbands all the time.)
My step dad, Mike B., had a funny conversation when we were standing in line for the buffet. He ran into an old friend of his; the guy informed Mike that he and some of his buddies had been “Spam hunting” a few days earlier. What in the hell is spam hunting? Get a bunch of guys together, he said, tie cans of Spam to a tree, and pick ’em off with shotguns. (I imagine that the consumption of several cases of inexpensive domestic lager is also part of the game.) For a finale, these guys blew up a refrigerator with dynamite. Welcome to life in Beaufort, SC, ladies and gentleman.