Anecdotes From Work

I was drinking coffee from my eight ounce Miir travel mug when I became aware of Abraham standing at my shoulder watching me. He placed the tenderloin steaks onto the tray and said, Whiskey? Cold whiskey?

No, I said, it’s coffee. 

He turned to bring more cuts from the table behind us. Not today? he said. 

Not today, I said. To myself, I thought, Not today, not ever.

According to Peter, Abraham has a bottle of whiskey in his pickup. 

How much beechwood did you cut on Saturday, Peter asked Abraham.

I gathered there were seven loads. How large the loads, I do not know. 

Do you have a wood stove? Burn it in your house? said Peter. 

No, no, said Abraham. 

All for smoking meat? Peter was impressed. Maybe you need more calves. Did you have a party?

Yes, Abraham had a party. 

Was there whiskey there? No, no whiskey. 

Peter’s brother’s family had another child yesterday. Now they have four boys and one girl. 

They should’ve named him Valentine, said John. 

Valentine! That’s a girl’s name, laughed Peter. 

No it’s not, I said. Valentina is, but Valentine is a boy’s name. 

I never heard the like, said Peter. 

We had a man in our church named Valentine, said John. They called him Felty. That’s German. 

It’s an old name, I said. 

Peter guffawed. Valentine for Valentine’s Day. 

Quietly, Erma said, I like the name Valentina. 

So do I, it reminds me of red velvet and Victorian furniture and drawing rooms, I said. 

Peter owns a couple greenhouses and he sells his produce at the local produce auction. Yesterday they received 100+ trays of seeds. 

Did you plant them all, said Enos. 

Peter guffawed. Peter guffaws a lot. He’s a big man with a big laugh. Oh no, he said. We can’t plant that fast. 

Peter, I said. Are you open to the public or do you sell only through the auction. 

There’s a few people who come, he said. But I do sell mostly through the auction. If they behave themselves we let them be. 

Can I come and be a nuisance, I asked. 

We’ll run you off, he said, and laughed again. 

Then they talked about guns for awhile. 

I know this man who has 6000 rounds of ammo for a .22, said John. 

I only have 200 rounds, said Peter. What is he hoarding for?

Eugene said, I think he does a lot of target shooting. 

That’s still hoarding, reiterated Peter. 

Sure, sure, said Eugene agreeably. 

They talked of racism, but I only know this because I caught the word racist in the course of conversation. Then Peter said, There was this man and his frau who were at the hospital, and the man fell asleep and when he woke up there was a black baby beside his face. The man was very confused. He didn’t think they had a black baby. 

Now every baby has their separate room, said Peter. Can’t mix them up anymore. 

I don’t know if Peter is correct or not, but the men laughed accordingly. 

I prepared some beef intestine yesterday and took some down to the men. I left it on the table. I told Eugene I’ll take the tupperware back home tomorrow. 

When I came in this morning, the container was empty. I suppose they ate them. Enos liked them. I said something about them being deep fried, and Peter said to Enos, You didn’t say they were deep fried. Anyone likes deep fried food. 

They tasted like liver, I said. Once you got past all the fried parts. 

Yes, said Enos. Nothing remarkable, but not bad either. 

I made them wrong, I said. Next time, I’ll boil them longer and cut them a different way. Then I want to put them into a sauté. 

Eugene said, Maybe Linda will want intestines every week. 

Maybe, I said. 

This warm weather and warm rain makes me glushtih(there's no English translation for this word. The closest thing I can think of is longing)for gardening and planting and plants warmed in the sun. There's no smell quite like a warm plant.

Erma said that their driver said the rain would turn into sleet this evening. What comes, comes. It is only February, after all.

I've got fifteen minutes left of break and I want a slice of fresh bread with honey and a latte.

Disappears.