Sunday Scribblings - Spicy

Three Mile Island

My good friend and golfing partner, Ramesh, is from India. If you picked that up from his name, you are paying attention and are probably quite worldly. I have been to his home for lunch or dinner several times. Having been all over the world, I am pretty open to trying anything that is considered food by other cultures. If you don’t know, much of the food of India tends to be quite spicy. Knowing that I am a bit of a wimp in that area, he and his wife Leela (also from India) advise me on the intensity level of each dish. While I find many of the foods delicious, I have stayed away from those of which the aroma made my sinuses begin to drain and my eyes tear worse than from viewing the end of “Old Yeller.”
I recently won a free, all you can eat, wing party at Hooters on a radio trivia contest. Yes, I know a lot of useless information. There were to be ten of us at the party. I arrived early to select our first order of wings. Hooters has several different levels of intensity for their chicken wings. I ordered an assortment ranging from Medium (I am not even wimp enough to order mild from a scantly dressed hostess) all the way up to their hottest, one named “Three Mile Island”, which I specifically selected for my Indian friends. I am sure it was on the high end of the Scoville Scale, since the hostess shuddered when I ordered it. I am pretty sure that the cook needed protective gear to even prepare this coating. My timing was great, as the order came out shortly after my party had arrived. The hostess pointed out the different plates of wings as to their piquancy (she did not know that word, I do). The party began with most of us reaching for the medium and hot versions and avoiding the plate with the haze hovering over it, like a runway in the summer. I pushed the plate of biohazard wings toward Ramesh and Leela. They tried them and it was immediately obvious from the blisters raised on their lips and the inability to breath that the “Three Mile Island” recipe was not popular in India. Mike, one of the other participants, a Caucasian from New Hampshire elected to try them. We all watched in awe as he devoured the entire plate with no visual side effects. Whether he actually enjoyed them or was posturing for the hostess, I was impressed. I have a hunch that the next morning, Mike would regret stepping up to that plate. Ramesh later said that he had eaten spicy food his entire life and had never tasted anything to rival “Three Mile Island”. Hooters should come up with an ad campaign, “Try our hot wings, they would make Gandhi swear.”

Music of the Night - My apologies to Sir Andrew Lloyd Weber

Pinehurst in My Dreams gave me a prompt because I was bitching that Poetry Thursday had gone on hiatus and I need a kickstart to write. She chose "bullfrog". At first I thought how stupid of a prompt that was, but in a few minutes I came up with this.

Music of the Night

Each night outside my window
A cacophony of sound
Natures orchestra Serenades me
It’s instruments abound

Crickets provide percussion
While calling to their mates
Owls ask their eternal question
Their vocals captivate

And when I stop to listen
I can’t help but rejoice
Providing bass and baritone
The bullfrog adds its voice

So open up your windows
To the music of the night
You won’t need a sedative
To relax ‘til morning light

Though sometimes out of rhythm
And usually off key
The creatures of the darkness
Provide a symphony

Sunday Scribblings - Town and Country

As always, I respond to the Sunday Scribbling prompt with a knee jerk reaction and go with it. This is what town and country brought to mind:

I love visiting New York for the excitement, culture, and entertainment options. I also adore Las Vegas for obvious reasons. But, I could never live in either place. Huge cities are overwhelming to me. Too stressful, too fast, and way too much temptation. There is evil everywhere, but it really stalks you in the big city. I could also never live in a rural area. I enjoy the isolation of the country on my own terms, not as a lifestyle. I am a townie. I like living in a medium sized city with access to the country. Even though I seldom venture out in the middle of the night, it is comforting to know that there are stores and restaurants open 24/7, should I have an urgent need for a lottery ticket or a Denny’s Grand Slam at two A.M. I grew up in a tiny village in Northern Idaho, where the sidewalks (what sidewalks?) are rolled in shortly after supper. I lived overseas for 15 years, where legitimate businesses in even major cities pretty much fade to black as the sun sets. Pubs in England usually close at ten thirty. That may be different now, but I am speaking from my own experience. There are after hours clubs, but you generally need to be young, heavily pierced, and have hair of a color normally found in a rainbow to fit in. Living in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina is perfect for me. Southern cities are unique. I have access to all the conveniences of a metropolitan city and am just minutes away from rural areas that cause Dueling Banjos to pluck in my head. Maybe I should do a commercial for the Myrtle Beach Chamber of Commerce. City living with the potential to “squeal like a pig” only minutes away.