This is not really a food post. Well, not completely.
But the End Is Near, or so they say, and well, I'm going to be prepared. I plan to be grilling some chicken when the Fateful Hour arrives on the west coast, bone-in chicken marinated in some of Wegman's excellent BBQ Chicken marinade. Maybe some grilled Yukon golds, tossed in olive oil and garlic, alongside, and some grilled New Jersey asparagus. The grill's plenty big enough, I think.
So if this Harold Camping fellow out in Oakland, CA is correct, things should get under way at about 6PM, prime grilling time at Casa Lawrenceville. I'm going to miss seeing my kids grow up and make me proud. Oh heck, I already am proud of them! I'll be missing those weekly beer chats in the "No Bull Inn" on starchat.net that I've been a part of on Friday nights (and now Saturday nights, too!) for almost 15 years. Good times, guys, good times. Heck, I'm going to miss beer. And Delorenzo's tomato pies. And the annual NJ Hot Dog Tour in September. The Grey Lodge. And Friday The Firkinteenth, for that matter. And of course, watching the Phillies win an other World Series. And maybe even (should I dare hope?) the Eagles winning a Super Bowl. Unless both of those teams are saved and swooped into the heavens too, of course.
I would include my family among the things I'll miss, but, frankly, if I make the cut and get whisked away in The Rapture, I fully expect to see almost all of them up there with me, or wherever that there place is. It could turn into one giant Salamido Family Reunion (my mom's big, loud Italian family, all of whom are priceless to me) for all eternity.
I better plan on grilling a LOT more chicken.