September and Those Little Coffee Creamers

Hi, blog!

How are you doing?

Me? Yeah, I know I haven’t done anything lately to feel like a kid again.

I know. Bad me.

But guess what? I did something?

Yep.

When I was young, stops at diners and restaurants came pretty infrequently. My folks preferred saving money then wasting it on a breakfast of sunny-side eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and whole wheat toast. We can eat that at home.

And we did.

On the rare occasion that we actually stopped at a diner, usually on the way to the cabin or whatnot, two things happened:

1) We got hashbrowns. Out of all the creations on heaven and earth, I sincerely believe that God created hashbrowns. Those perfectly shredded potatoes, griddle-fried to the perfect consistency of salty-crunch on the outside and warm potatoey goodness on the inside. Can anyone besides short order cooks in roadside diners make perfect diner hashbrowns at home? I don’t think so. I know I have never come close to perfecting home-made hashbrowns to the godliness that the short order cooks in diners can.

2) Us kids drank the coffee creamers. Or maybe it was just me. Regardless, what kid can resist the creamy goodness stored in those handily kid-size little plastic thingies? I’d venture not many. Of course, drinking them all is never a good idea. That usually draws jeers from the folks. Sorry, Mom and Dad.

So today as I was making my Friday getaway from the plaza building in downtown Minneapolis, I happened to stride by the leftover goodies from a meeting. And there sat a moment of my childhood – a little wicker basket chock full of those little coffee creamers. So I stole one as if it were Aztec gold and drank it when I got on the bus.

Creamy.

That last line only works if you say it in the Homer Simpson voice from the episode where he and Bart steal Groundskeeper Willy’s retirement grease.

So today there was no young lady who just got laid off – I never did see her on the bus today. Sad. It was just me, my book and a little plastic thingy of cream.

But this isn’t all about cream. I wanted to say a few things about the coming end of Summer and beginning of Fall. Fall is the best season. Supporting evidence is as follows: football, cooler weather, kids go back to school (yay), leaves (I have a blaze maple tree in back and I shit you not, I could park a lawn chair underneath it and watch the leaves switch over), Labor Day, apple picking, wearing jeans again, wearing sweatshirts again, wearing flannels and my orange hat again, hunting, telling hunting stories, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s lining up like ducks in a row.

Need I say more?

So as the nights get cooler and I break out my orange hat, sit down and watch some football, rake some leaves, pick some apples, and have a lot of fun. Because even if the world is crashing down all around you, at least make the most of it.

I can’t end on a terrible cliché, sorry.

Eat pumpkin pie.