“Positive thinking will allow you to do everything better than negative thinking will.” ~ Unknown
curds (snapseed)
I had need of groceries this evening, and as I passed near the deli, this package of cheese curds jumped out at me. One doesn’t find cheese curds very often in Kentucky, but they are very, very popular in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and perhaps other midwest dairy states. In 1995, BFF Beverly Howell and I took a road trip to Minneapolis for a blues festival featuring Double Trouble, Jonny Lang, Susan Tedeschi, Bernard Allison, Deborah Coleman, Wayne Toups, and several other acts. Bev was doing a lot of work for DT back then, so we spent a lot of time backstage hobnobbing. Except me. I spent most of my time taking pictures at the side of the stage. You can see a few of what I shot with good, old fashion film here. But my travel time with Bev is what I remember best, especially the ride home. We stopped for a bite to eat, and in a dairy case in the restaurant lobby were bags upon bags of locally made cheese curds. Bev loves cheese curds so she grabbed a couple of bags on the way out. A couple of hours into the ride home her belly began to rumble. We stopped. Went a few more miles and stopped again. And again. And again. We made so many pit stops that night I lost count. I have never felt so sorry for anyone. That trip home will forever be known as The Great Cheese Curd Explosion. I think Bev has a much more colorful term for it. I also think she no longer loves cheese curds. Poor Bev. All these years later we’re still laughing about that trip. I can’t wait for ya’ll to meet her in the outhouse, which you haven’t yet because she lives in Texas. She’s a hoot and a half and I miss her terribly. We had talked about taking another trip this past April to her hometown of El Paso, but the pandemic put a stop to that. Nevertheless, we’re working our way into another road trip, and I guarantee it will be filled with laughter sans cheese curds.
2 Responses
OMG Kopana I’m so honored to be the Story of the Day in the Outhouse!!! As I read it, it made me realize that your presence and recollection stands as witness and testament that I must have had a sphincter of steel that even famous powerlifters would have envied. I doubt you could have driven a toothpick up my *** with a sledge hammer in between those freeway exits and rest stops. I was clinched up so tight than even getting into the gas stations on route to the bathrooms was more a series of small hops on legs as stiff as rigor mortis than resembling any kind of normal gait. I’m pretty sure that at least couple of those gut rumbles registered on the Richter scale.
As traumatic as that day was there is no one on the planet I would have rather been with than you. The empathy so clearly evident in your account wasn’t sensed the day all this happened; I just remember you laughing and snorting til you cried and snotted all over the car.
Ah, those were the days! I can’t wait til all the Covid stuff is behind us and we can head out for another adventure. I love you, my Kokopuffs. Thank you for stumbling backwards down Memory Lane and taking me with you.
More adventure awaits us, friend!