As usually happens, one thought leads to another. Or at least sets the tone for the next one. Last night a piece of paper and it’s contents reminded me of my dad and a warmth spread over the evening. 

I don’t talk too much about cooking as for whatever reason even though I kind of do that for a living. It’s not an interesting topic to write about. On most Sundays I’ll cook for the family and usually grill. Like everything I’m particular about it, but not how you’d think. 

I prefer charcoal over gas and the hotter the better. If you can cook something in 10 mins or 60 I always prefer 10. I’m not the guy cooking a side of beef for a day. I prefer torching that fucker as fast as I can and getting on with life. Even cooking is a race. 

To get the coals lit I use a chimney. You crumble up a a couple sheets of newspaper and put in the bottom and then fill the top with coals. No lighter fluid, fifteen minutes or so and you’ve got heat. 

Last night while pulling out some old newspaper, the puzzles page fell out. On it was my favorite. The Jumble. 

You’ve probably seen it. It’s a jumbled up word that your rearrange the letters to form a word. Then a couple letters from each word are combined in the bottom puzzle to create the answer to a small cartoon clue. The clues have an air of cartoon humor that’s reminiscent of Andy Capp and a crossword clue. It was without a doubt the only reason I can come up with to get the newspaper. It was also my dad’s favorite. 

One of the few memories i cherish of my dad was doing the Jumble. Not together. Against each other. If either of us saw the other doing it, the other would stand hawkish, looking over the shoulder of the other asking and declaring. “Got the first one yet?  I got it.” We’d then threaten to tell the other happily ruining it for the other. It drove my dad insane unless he was the one ruining. I wonder where I got that today. 

Last night I grabbed the page and stared at the words. Slowly figuring them out. Funny. For me. I mostly never actually finish the final clues. I was always satisfied with figuring out the words. The other thing that I remember and still do with this is I never filled in the words. I’d just stand behind my dad and blurt them out, my dad hunkered over the paper, pencil in hand. It was always a pencil. 

Good times. 

COMFY

MEALY

INHALE

ORIOLE

#hugsandhi5s