It was my day to eat beef. Finally.
Unbeknowst to myself, I had married into chicken hell. Oh, sure, he seemed to like ham, fish, beef...that is, until after the wedding. I was told much too late of his grown son's comments to my son, after the matrimonial event. They consisted of two things. "Good luck," and "I hope you like chicken."
At this point, I could not chew one more piece of chicken if my life depended on it. Given a choice, I think I'd rather starve.
I needed some iron in the worst way. I needed beef. And today was my lucky day; the Kiwanis Steak Fry was upon us. Praise Heaven.
It was hot at Lakeview Park, where the dinner was held. But I stood in line with the backs of my calves slow-cooking in the sun with only one goal in mind. Steak. Medium-rare. Now.
I was surprised at how quickly the line moved through. While we were waiting, one of the Kiwanis guys walked down through the crowd, handing out ice cold bottles of water. Nice touch.
I could smell the steak, and I could see the steak! This was not a dream, though there was a hazy cloud of smoke surrounding the cooks, which could have been clouds. Clouds and angels, cooking my steak. When the big, thick, lean steak was finally on my plate, I was one happy girl. This was not an illusion. This was beef; my favorite protein. I was going to live to see another day.
There were other sides, too. A big fluffy roll. Rice. Coleslaw. The lady in line in front of me told the coleslaw passer-outer that there would be no coleslaw for them, thank you. To make up for his disappointment, I pronounced, "I'm a coleslaw eater!" and he merrily put some on my plate. The lady standing next to me, in almost an apologetic way, said, "Our family's just sort of picky that way," to which I replied, "I respect that." She smiled and our exchange was over. And I had my coleslaw. So did my daughter. We come from a long line of coleslaw eaters.
Tough to find a spot in the shade at the long tables...those were primo spots and they were all taken. We didn't mind. We needed some sun, anyhow.
The music wafted through the air, the band was really good. I only knew Patti Syme the Realtor, I never knew Patti Syme the Singer; the girl has a gift.
And then, the moment I'd been waiting for...that first bite of beef. I can only tell you that I'd wait another six months, if I were assured I'd have steak like that waiting for me on the other end. The steak was so large, however, that in dismay I realized I might not be able to eat it all. All that waiting...only to leave the job half-done. It seemed so wrong. My daughter tried to coach me through, saying, "Just take little breaks in between, Mom! You can do it!"
And, I did. I finished that glorious steak. And I am NOT SORRY. Did my system go into shock, after all of that chicken? Quite the contrary; I finally felt...whole. I'm sure my blood got redder and the oxygen level in my brain returned to where it should've been all along. If I'd had any problems concentrating or finishing a full sentence in the past, I blame malnutrition. Man (or woman) cannot live on chicken alone. If I had my way, they wouldn't live on any chicken at all. There's a reason they call it 'fowl', as my brother-in-law once said.
The Ice Cream Sandwich guy came around before we were even done with our dinner, telling us that we didn't have to wait to finish dinner this time to have dessert. So, we didn't. My daughter and I tore into those treats like two naughty children. Then, because we couldn't resist and it was delicious, we finished our dinner too.
Half an hour later the Ice Cream Sandwich guy came around again with his cooler of delicacies and gave us another one. They quickly disappeared. I don't eat like this all the time but hey, this is a 'Festival', people! It's time to be festive. When in Rome, and all that.
Friends and neighbors were there, and people whose faces but not names we knew from around town. About twenty classic cars lined the park, and folks were walking back and forth, oohing and ahhing over them. I wondered what it would feel like to own one of these. Perhaps this will be a part of the mid-life crises I've been planning for years. Why not.
The tables were filled with happy, contented people. I credit the beef and the Kiwanis club. If beef is what's for dinner, I'll be there every year.
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