A smell to remember triggers a few thoughts

When I was a wee lad, we all had tasks we had to do at home on Saturday. One of mine was to walk half a dozen to Ray Guetschoff's butcher shop. A half a century later, I still enjoy going to these places to get meat and other goodies. Like the great smell of fresh bread, there is something about the aroma of the meat market that is reassuring and pleasurable to me. In our little part of the world, there are two places I go to regularly for such stuff. One has a meat area in the back of a small grocery store. There, Jim knows exactly what kind of cut of pork chop I want and offers suggestions for other delectable items, His suggestion for a turkey that was grilled last Thanksgiving was on the nose ... and went down the gullet easily. I also like the fact they have dog bones I can take home for Pete. His nose goes beserk at the smell of one of these. If there is such as a clean bone club (the animal equivalent of the clean plate club), Pete would graduate magna cum laude.

I was at the other place this morning - a true butcher shop about 10 miles from our house. What I like about this place is the variety of meats as well as some nifty homemade spices that add taste to the various meats. Based on a recipe I had read, I had an idea for a sandwich this morning that I took to these guys. After some consultation, we changed it up a bit. But I think I have a potential winner now. We'll see when I spring it on my wife and whoever else happens to wander through the house in the near future.

As I get older, I find I am more attracted to simple, uncomplicated foods. I admire good cooking and wish I was better at it. My wife and her sisters are superb cooks. (Interestingly, they differ in technique but the result is always the same: great, tasty but not particularly exotic eats. Kathy found a recipe for shrimp on the barbecue the other night that was c'est magnifique.)

I can't match that. So I settle for finding different ways to get most of whatever meat we buy - whether it be on the grill, the oven or even the toaster oven. And if the latest idea doesn't work as well as hoped for ... well, one just heads back to the butcher shop for another try. There are worse things in life.

Another simple pleasure: working with the ballgame on in the background

So I am working at home today and wanted some background noise for company. Instead of opting for music, I have been given a great bonus a rare morning baseball game I can have on the television.

In this case, it is Tampa Bay and Boston in the annual Patriot's Day game at Fenway Park.

To say it is a treat is an understatement.

All games at Fenway are fun -- even games like this one with Tampa Bay leading 8-0 in the 6th inning.

What is even more fun is the Red Sox announcers - Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy - are very good at their job. Anybody can make a 3-2 thriller decided by a two-run homer in the bottom of the ninth fun. But it takes a real pro to keep a lopsided affair interesting. This pair offers good insights, info on the players involved in the game and excellent back and forth discussion in a calm, reason manner.

Early, Remy noted that home plate umpire Angel Campos was all over the pace with his strike zone and had managed to get both sides upset with him. When TB's Ben Zobrist kicked about strike two, Remy observed the next pitch would likely be a strike, too. The pitch looked a foot outside but Campos sent Zobrist packing anyway. Remy then noted Campos eyed Zobrist carefully all the way to the dugout, perhaps hoping to get an ejection.

Later, Orsillo noted that, although the Red Sox are generally successful at Fenway, they dropped their first two series there this season. He added that playing the Yankees and the Rays - two excellent teams - might have had something to do with this depressing (to Boston fans) stat.

Baseball as background stuff is wonderful. Sure, the game moves slowly at times. But in the hands of good announcers, it doesn't seem that way. The Red Sox are off to a rough start (4-8 at this writing) and this pair made no attempt to hide that fact. But they didn't dwell on it much ... nor did they make excuses for the locals. It sounded like two old friends chatting away while the game unfolded. I didn't need to look up often to know what was going on.

In an era where TV is full of screamers, it is simply wonderful to have a game on in a relaxed but fun background.

Another simple pleasure renewed: browsing through bookstores

One of the things I have learned quickly in this book business is you must keep hustling. So it was that I found myself out and about the other day talking to various book store owners, extolling the wisdom of getting copies of my book so the currently rabid Twins' fans could learn more about the team's past.

Two of my stops the other day had an ulterior benefit: it allowed me the pleasure of rummaging through old fashioned, independent bookstores.

Micawber's, tucked into a residential neighborhood, is near my house. From the outside, it has a musty look. Inside, it is as clean as can be and simply stacked with books of all shapes, sizes and titles.

When I wander through bookstores, I rarely have a specific title in mind. It is my version of a scavenger hunt - you never know what treasure you will find. In this case, it was a copy of hundreds of letters written by the great E.B. White, longtime editor-writer at the New Yorker in its heyday. Even if you don't know some of the people he is writing to (or about), you can appreciate precise English and nifty turns of phrases. John Updike, no literary slouch himself, edited the book and added commentary when needed. I'm looking forward to a long, casual read.

Later, I found myself at Common Good Books, which is located in a busy area near downtown St. Paul. This is a place in the downstairs of a bustling coffee shop. Garrison Keillor opened it a few years ago and it has treasures galore in it. ( I had a lot of choices but settled for an oldie but a goodie: Roger Angell's first baseball book: Five Seasons. I have read it before but lost my copy of it. The stories are about baseball from 1962-71, an era when I was young and impressionable. I attended (or watched) several of these games. After reading Angell's observations, I discover I missed a lot.

Memo to self: pay attention to everything this summer when watching games.

Seeing my little treatise among these gems is flattering but the real bonus is getting to spend time choosing which book to take on next. You can never have too much peanut butter.

Simple pleasures are still the best

Don't tell anybody at the St. Paul Police Department this but I broke a law this morning.

I think anybody saw me do it. But I gladly confess my sin here because it was worth it to see the result.

Basically, Pete, The Happy Dog (scroll to the end to see a picture) has a good life here. He gets fed twice a day and goes on (at least) two good walks as well. He has the run of the house and, when the weather turns better, has the run of the backyard as well. Although we don't feed him from the table, he gets plenty of treats, including runs to the local ice cream place six blocks away. All in all, it's a pretty good dog's life.

Every now and then, however, one just gets the urge to extend the pleasure a bit. It is a law in St. Paul (and, I presume, most other places) that your dog has to be on a leash when he is being walked. There is a playground a couple of blocks from our house. It has a baseball field and a couple of softball fields that turn into soccer pitches in the fall. We go by it often during our daily treks through the neighborhood. Occasionally, we'll walk through it. As you enter it, however, there is a sign warning dog owners to get their pets leashed.

For reasons I can't explain, I decided to go rogue this morning. Nobody was around when we entered the playground. After whispering in his ear to come back when called, I let Pete loose in left field. Mon cur didn't need any encouragement. He shot quickly along the fence, sniffing delightedly. He zigzagged across center field like Willie Mays catching Vic Wertz's ball at the Polo Grounds. I wandered over by second base, called his name and he came tearing to me at top speed.

Then we romped around the bases of the baseball field. Although I encouraged him to slide in safely at home, there is a limit to dog understanding. He prefers to go in standing but with a smile on his face.

He trotted over to a softball field and, in classic doggie fashion, paid his respects.

All in all, we were probably on the field for 5-7 minutes. In that time, however, I saw a seven-year old dog revert to puppyhood again. He ran joyously but came back upon request. As we left the playground, he graciously accepted going back on the collar and we headed home.

Once back at the house, he got his standard treat for a job well done and headed to his regular backyard post to sleep it off -- hopefully, dreaming happily about running free for a while.

I'm not sure who enjoyed the scene more - Pete or myself. There is something so basic but pleasurable about seeing a happy dog running full blast untethered. I guess we all have the urge to run free on occasion because, most of the time, we rarely get to do so. When we see another (in this case, a dog) rock and roll alone, we watch and enjoy from afar.

Indeed, as the old soup song goes, simple pleasures are sometimes the best.

Movin' on up

Just checked the latest B & N standings. Our humble little book is up to 83,462nd on their overall selling list. We have leapfrogged ahead of the Yankees (105,602) and have left the Red Sox in the dust (at 220,611). Onward and upward.

Thanks, folks.