You know you live in Nebraska when the grass starts to bud into corn. I'm just sayin. I planted tomatoes, watermelon, cilantro, brocolli, lettuce, squash and zuchinni in the garden this year. Nothing grew in the garden. Nothing but the corn.
Ahhh, yes. Fall is upon us and that means two things: football and corn. Both of which were points of activity at my home last night.
Max is playing football. I thought it would be real funny to serve him corn after a hard evening of 7-year-old football practice. Mind you, it's tackle, so it really is hard for them. I mean, just keeping their heads upright with those helmets on their heads is enough.
We have a ton of fresh corn here. Being that we live in the middle of corn and all. So, I cooked up some corn on the cob. And I must say, I've lived here long enough to understand the ways of corn. It's like Bubba Gump going on about shrimp. Except here, it's corn: corn salad, corn patties, corn syrup, fried corn, steamed corn, corn casserole, barbecued corn, cheesy corn, corn salsa, corn fajitas, baked corn, broiled corn, corn soup, sweet corn, corn feed. And on and on. But one thing that everyone will agree on - there's nothing better than corn on the cob. And amen to that. It is the best corn ever. I suppose if you visit Nebraska, you should see the Unilateral Capitol, and I guess the zoo, and the College World Series, but before you do any of that, get some fresh, local, corn on the cob.
So tonight, we're all eating and I realize we have corn patterns. Lucy and I like to eat our corn while rotating the cob around. Ricardo eats his corn in a horizontal pattern, in rows. And then we see Max. I've never seen anything like it - he eats his corn randomly. Just a bit here, a bite to the left, to the right, turning the cob. It's hillarious. It reminds me of the way Lucy runs: sporadic and fantastic with joy. Respect a man who eats his corn any damned way he feels like it. I'm just sayin.
That's how Max rolls.
Song of the day: Despertar by Aisha Duo
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