In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Snapshot Stories.”
Spicy Italian Sausage, hot off the grill!
What kind of story could I possibly write about a delicious sausage picture? How am I supposed to keep the subject in line with the purpose of this blog: the journey to a beautiful heart? Don’t sausage packages have heart attack warnings printed on them?
I better get to the story about this sausage snapshot…
Blame it on the German genes: Brats are a meal I know will get devoured at our house. It was a hot Sunday afternoon. The children were swimming and splashing the day away in the pool when I realized I needed to make a quick jaunt to the neighborhood market for some meat. Big papa made the suggestion of bratwurst and I had no other option than to fulfill his noble request!
Eager to get a few moments of solidarity, I raced away in my inferno-mobile. What is an inferno-mobile, you ask? Why, it is the opposite of a snow mobile! (Actually, it’s a term used to describe vehicles with BLACK interiors, which are truly “hell-on-wheels” in the summer time.)
Driving along in my sauna while jamming out to my new Spotify playlist, I’m to the store in less than 5 minutes. Another 5 minutes pass and I’ve finally mopped all the sweat from my head and neck, do a quick duck-faced check in the rear view mirror and I’m headed into an air-conditioned heaven, complete with the diet-crushing aroma of fresh baked bread.
As usual, there is a special promotion for the specific item I am trying to find…and they are out of brats! Oh, but they DO have Spicy Italian Sausage. I stand in front of the sausage display and ponder whether or not I can pass these Italians off as the usual German variety. Several minutes pass. Pretty soon, people are staring at “the woman” who has taken up residence at the front of the sausage display…Ok, a little dramatic- So, I decide I can pull off the heist with my children (at least) and just explain the bratwurst shortage to Big Papa.
Imposture brats in hand, I pay and head back to the rolling sauna. Five minutes and I am home. I weigh five pounds less from all the time time spent in the sauna and Big Papa is content with the non-German sausages.
I don’t like to write about my children’s moments of negativity, so the rest is history!
A lesson about sausage: they may all look alike, however, the cultural differences are quite distinct.
Thank you for reading my snapshot of a snapshot!
Have a blessed evening (or morning!)