Another one shamelessly nicked from Shakesville:
What is your idea of the perfect meal?
We’re having dinner on the back porch of the house I grew up in in Perrysburg, Ohio. It is summer, just approaching dusk, and the lightning bugs and cicadas are starting their nocturnal dances and chorus. We’re having my dad’s barbecued spare ribs with his sauce, fresh-picked corn on the cob from Kazmaier’s, Mom’s tomato salad, and chocolate cake after. Accompanying it would be an ice-cold glass of tea — not too sweet — with mint picked from the garden.
And in the background, Ernie Harwell is on the radio calling the Tigers’ game. They’re winning.