Impromptu Feast?

I hope this blog finds you doing well. It leaves my blue tooth keyboard and travels into my ipad doing just fine thank you very much. It has been a great weekend. I went to the Purdue game yesterday. We beat the 24th ranked Illini like the world's largest bass drum. (Take that Austin Stilger my poor deluded nephew. There is still time to change from the error of your youthful ways.) It was homecoming. There was a flyover at the beginning of the day. For a nearly duplicated replay of a Purdue game last year, read the following link. A near perfect day was repeated 372 days later.

http://yousaidwhatroger.blogspot.com/2010/10/that-was-fun.html

Speaking of  reconsidering previous errors, you may remember last week in this blog I accused the deer of joining forces in trying to assassinate bike riders (namely me) in retaliation for years of humans using our cars to thin the herd so to speak. I have reconsidered after additional research. During three night rides this past week, I saw 15 feral cats eyeballing me in the side ditch. I now think that the feral cats are the leading sociopaths of the animal world. They are orchestrating these brazen attacks on my person.

I will keep you posted. This week, I wanted to write about one of the surest signs of fall. Last Saturday, Beverly sent out a notice for an impromptu fall feast. Feast day was to be Sunday; less than 24 hours later. It started innocently enough. A couple of Grace's friends from Ball State took Bev up on an open invitation to get away from dorm food and visit the Sharritt's in spite of Grace's year of study abroad in that third world paradise; Ghana. The plan for getting away from the rigors of academia was to go out to the woods after a fine meal and get some physical exercise by helping cut some wood.

The plan changed. While I was out cutting wood on Saturday afternoon, Bev was formulating a new plan. Sure, two young people could have a relaxing afternoon, good food, and time in the great out doors, but it was chilly. The days are getting shorter. The weather service says that it is going to be a long cold winter. Those kids needed some comfort food. We could have pie (no make that 2 pies), a split pork loin stuffed with sausage, rolls, and parmesan potatoes. You know,  that is a lot of food for four people. . . That was a problem, but Bev had a solution for this vision. She simply invited more people.

Mid-way though the afternoon, Bev sent an email inviting a group of people to our house for Sunday lunch. You may have received one of these emails in the past. They go out periodically. No need to bring anything; all will be provided. Bev loves this kind of thing. While she isn't Martha Stewart, with feast plans for every day of the year, she is gracious and skilled enough at soirees that she doesn't have to wait until Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter to get the gumption up to invite people over.

How do you get to come to an impromptu feast? There are a few criteria. First, you must be spontaneous enough to change plans and come over with less than 24 hour notice. 24 hours is generous though. I have seen impromptu cookouts  planned in less than 4 hours (no pie though and your pork is a hotdog.) Second, you have to know Bev. She is the only common denominator among invitees. Bev is warm, gracious, and has never met a stranger. If you accept an invite thinking that Bev has invited work friends over, or church friends over, or workout friends over, you need to work on your listening skills. Bev just said, "I am having some friends over for an impromptu feast." Any segregation of the friends into tribes is completely on you. Third, you must be willing to share a meal with people you don't know. That takes some practice and some getting used to, but if I can do it anybody can.

So you can imagine the young college students’ surprise when they thought that they would be the only guests. When they arrived the drive was full, and the kitchen was full. Hands were extended, and greetings were offered. And the fun began. Grace was said. The food dished out and we talked talk. In fact, I heard one of the funniest stories that I have ever heard. It involved youthful exuberance, dynamite and indiscretion. The main character had kept a secret for 40 years, and in the end, confession and redemption was granted.

I would share it here but that would imply that a blog is equivalent to a fine meal with friends, and it isn't. First off there is no vanilla ice-cream for the raspberry pie. Second, the community is cutoff and fragmented into pieces. I can share the story but I never know what you "hear" or how you respond. You can "hear" the story but I can never clarify what I "said”.

No a story that good needs to be shared over a feast. Keep an eye on your email.

Take Care

Roger