My Beer Story

Yesterday was an interesting day. It could have been a Monday and a full moon, but it was really just Tuesday and I have no clue what the moon looked like, but it wasn't full. Things started out with the normal craziness that accompanies getting the kids ready for school and all out the door for the drive to school on time (this NEVER goes like it should, but I'll save you from the pain of hearing about that). Owen had school in the am, so I took Nelly with me to pick up a few groceries since it was just the two of us. Now, a while back I picked up this little gadget for the grill that is supposed to be used for cooking chicken with a can of beer. I hadn't used it, yet, so decided this would be a good time get a chicken and some beer and try it out. Most, if not all, of you probably know that we don't drink beer here, so I'm TOTALLY in the dark when it comes to beer. I was, however, smart enough to know that I wouldn't be able to buy a single can of beer at the grocery store. So, I stopped at the gas station on the way home to get a can. They didn't have any alcohol there and directed me to a package store down the road. I got there and I looked for a smallish size can. The only single cans available were 24 oz which I was afraid would be way too big for my poor little featherless chicken. I took one to the counter anyway and asked the man there if they had any smaller cans available. He looked at me a little strangely, so I felt compelled to explain what I needed it for. His look just kept getting stranger, so then I started feeling really out of place and weird. He finally came around the desk and confirmed that I was wearing a skirt (he must have packed me into a religious group category by then) and then proceeded to ask if I was new in town. NO. Did I live around here? Yes. Had I ever been there before? No. I probably don't drink? No. I probably don't smoke, either? No. By this time we were walking along the coolers. He said they couldn't sell single cans in smaller sizes, but he proceeded to pick out a small can from a six pack and took it to the counter anyway. He wrapped it in a paper bag and handed it to me and said "Merry Christmas". I stared at him in disbelief since he was obviously just giving it to me. I honestly think he thought my whole chicken story was just that...a story...and that once I tried this can of beer I'd be back for more. Those were his words, "maybe you'll be back". I laughed and said, "well, if I like my chicken recipe I might be back." What craziness for a single can of beer. The rest of the day was equally crazy. I guess I won't go into all that here, though. Enough is enough, right!