I haven’t touched a boomerang in a week. Many of my readers think boomerangs are my #1 hobby. Well long before I started making and throwing boomerangs, I learned to cook. I am pretty good at it and cook most nights at home. Now I am even involved in helping my wife with her Monday Lunch thing. This past weekend it involved me smoking 40 pounds of chicken leg quarters and helping make the veggie side dishes. My unofficial role is dishwasher, pit boss, sous chef and purchasing agent. Sometimes the weekends get very busy.
Where does this fit in with boomerangs? Well it often leaves me little time to work on boomerangs so my orders fall behind. In the last few weeks I have been trying to squeeze in some time but there are always roadblocks. Saturday would have been idea, partly because I was smoking chicken. I could fire up the smoker and as long as I kept tabs on it, I could set up some stuff in the yard and carve airfoils on booms. Well, the weather had other plans. It was cold not getting out of the low 40s. It was damp and at times rainy. I never had a chance.
Sunday we were up at 4:30 to serve breakfast to the homeless women at the emergency shelter. We still had to make the sides to go with the chicken but I still thought I had a chance at boomerangs again. The phone rings and it’s a problem that my wife needs to fix on the computer systems she supports. That takes around 2 hours so I stepped it up to backfill in the kitchen. Everything was finally packed for delivery and as I helped load the car, it started raining again. It was a sign that I was not making boomerangs over the weekend. Oh well, maybe another day.
All this reminds me of an Irish joke I head the Clancy Brothers tell. The full joke is below. After reading it you will understand: “I’m a cook, not a boomsmith, I’m a cook, not a boomsmith”
This Irish Protestant is going out with this Irish Catholic girl and after a while they decided to get married. So they got married and after a while he decided to become a Catholic. So he took instructions for a long time and after a while he got bapitised and everything but he couldn’t get it through his head that he was a Catholic and he didn’t know what to do about it. So he went to the priest and told him:
“Father, I know you gave me all those instructions and baptised me and everything but I can’t get it through my head that I’m a Catholic. What’ll I do about it?”
So the priest said “Keep telling yourself that you’re a Catholic you’re not a Protestant. Sooner or later it’ll penetrate your thick skull that you’re a Catholic and not a Protestant.”
So that man went away muttering to himself “I’m a Catholic I’m not a Protestant, I’m a Catholic I’m not a Protestant, I’m a Catholic….”
Now the next Friday the priest was going around the town and decided to visit the newly-weds. But when he came into the house he got a whiff of something that he shouldn’t be able to smell in a good Catholic home on a Friday.
“Mary, where’s Sam?” he asked.
“He’s in the kitchen, Father.”
So the priest goes into the kitchen, He sees Sam with a huge steak in the pan, scooping gravy over it and saying “You’re a trout you’re not a steak, you’re a trout you’re not a steak, you’re a trout….”