I don’t know what I was thinking. Yesterday I headed out to do my grocery shopping for the week, and so did everyone else in Los Angeles. It never occurred to me that the Monday before Christmas would lead to a run on goat cheese, but clearly I did not think that through. And for the record, I’ve never wanted goat cheese so much as when it’s unavailable. (For the record, part deux – I don’t have a goat cheese deficiency or anything. I just wanted it for a roasted beet salad.)
Anyhoo – after battling traffic and actually giving up on a couple of stores where parking trauma was probably going to lead to fist-fights, I found myself standing at a meat counter, trying to acquire Christmas morning’s steak. And I was quite specific in my order for the butcher, as that’s how I do. After a moment, he came back to let me know he was all out of the bone-in ribeye I had requested, and that he could cut me some nice thick boneless steaks instead. Before I was able to delve into a discussion about that, the guy next to me said, “You want that bone.” That dude’s name was Eustace (I get to know people faster than you can possibly imagine), and the rest of our conversation went something like this:
Me: I do want that bone. And I just heard myself say that – out loud.
Eustace: Gotta have a good bone.
Me: I love a good bone.
At about that point, the rest of Eustace’s family arrived, including his aged mother, his mostly-grown daughter and her boyfriend, and his sister. They joined the conversation.
Eustace’s Sister: I could use a good bone myself. Right now.
Me: Who couldn’t?
Eustace: Ever’body love a good bone.
Me: I cannot believe I am standing here talking about bonin’ with an entire family. This has got to be the oddest conversation I’ve ever had at the grocery store, and believe me – there have been a few.
After a good giggle, we all said goodbye to one another and went about our business. But I’ll tell you something – that Eustace was alright.
And he was dead-on with his wisdom: Ever’body love a good bone.
Word.