Odometer Update: Day 2

Crescent City Classic Race, last week.

That's not me in the foreground.  I used to run a few miles a day, but I gave it up to become a bon vivant.  I moved to the right city.  The real subject of this photo is that beautiful motorcycle in the background: The Littlest Ninja This Side of the Mississippi River.

I was busy for most of today.  Too busy to be out on patrol.  The odometer reads 25,506.  I traveled 27 miles since last measurement.  That's one mile less than when I was on patrol yesterday.  What did I do?  I went to Lowe's to buy some spray paint and brass nails.  The store is about a half mile from my house as the crow flies, if not the Littlest Ninja.

Then I went to the grocery on Esplanade Avenue in search of some turkey cutlets because I've had a hankering for turkey the past few days.  I don't eat chicken or pork.  I rarely eat beef, and then only if it is cut up small, preferably at a Thai restaurant or as Chinese Orange Beef.  The grocer only had ground turkey and I don't eat ground meat.  No particular reason; it's a personal preference.  Empty-handed, I walked across the street to the Italian market across the street.  No cutlets, only a frozen turkey breast for more money than I wanted to spend for my turkey fix and bones to boot.  Total distance traveled as the crow flies: another three quarters of a mile?

Then I got the bright idea to buy some turkey legs I saw the day before at the supermarket on Carrolton Avenue.  As I said, I've been thinking about turkey cutlets for a few days now.  I figured I could cut the skin off the legs and cook them in a way I was dreaming about:  broiled so that the meat is dry.  Another WK culinary fun fact:  I like my meat cooked all the way through and toothsome.  If I burn it, I don't particularly mind.  I save those parts for last.  So I went to the supermarket, about a mile away if an efficient navigator were plotting the course.

Trip home: lets call it a mile and a half, which I did the straightest line possible because I don't like to leave meat in my satchel with spray paint and brass nails and whatever sundry important papers I may be toting about.  

Total distance supposedly traveled: two and a quarter miles.  Odometer reading since yesterday: 27 miles.  How do I do it?  I'm not sure, but I am trying to become aware.  Your humble narrator shrugs, "A motorcycle invites detours."

So, to sum up my carnivorous habits, no chicken or pork outside of sausage, which doesn't bother me.  Rare beef, and then usually only when dining out.  Occasional turkey.  A fondness for a lamb, which I don't mind cutting myself on the plate, though I prefer to do it prior to presentation.  No veal.  Don't even get me started on seafood, which I consider meat and I am just as persnickety about.

I'm not sure why New Orleanians prefer the necks of turkeys over cutlets.  If I had a hankering for turkey necks, I would have dined a week ago without any searching.  Ah well, the trip's the thing, as my odometer tells me.

Another insightful odometer update tomorrow.