What It Looks Like Underneath

This gas station in town maybe failed because of competition around the corner plus the new QuikTrip near the freeway, but most likely because its quickshop allowed smoking inside, and smokers exiled from their stores and shops for smoke breaks hung out in there. Going into the quickshop for just one minute was enough to stink up my clothes so that they stunk up my car. This is called third-hand smoke. After a few of those I patronized the other gas station and so did everyone else, I guess.

Anyway, this corner gas station closed about three years ago. By law, before a certain date, they must remove the underground tanks that hold the gasoline we buy there so they don't deteriorate and leak into the environment. A Caterpillar unearthed these two elephantine tanks. They each hold about 10,000 to 15,000 gallons and are the first I've ever seen. It was prehistoric somehow, like walking through corpses of dinosaurs or visiting Macchu Picchu. Hope the tanks got recycled.

Snacking on Snowballs

The other day having coffee with a friend I denied myself a pastry from the shop's lovely pastry case and later wondered what kind of person would deny her desire for a pastry when she really wanted one. I decided that was unhealthy. And it awoke in me a desire to live that moment over and choose differently, which gave me the bug for something gooey and sweet. . . So I drove seven miles into town and in the gas-mart's most forbidden aisles where I never go, I in my purple parka shopped among packaged creations spun up from high-fructose corn syrup, white flour, partially hydrogenated oils and artificial flavors -- treats that no Pharaoh or Chinese warlord, no matter how wealthy, ever saw or tasted or imagined. Because I am sensible I allowed only one item. It came down to brown-sugar pop-tarts or Hostess Snowballs, their coconut tops dyed pink for, I think, Valentine's Day. How very festive. I contained myself until I brought them home, and at 4:30 p.m., very civilized, I set them on a plate and had on the side a cup of rice milk in my Kansas State University mug. I think that on one of my birthdays, back in my salad days ("when I was green in judgement") I bought Snowballs and stuck a birthday candle in one. Or maybe I dreamt that. Or it was someone else's birthday. Anyway, please be seated and share this rare and beautiful moment with me.

You Drive What?

I tried to think of things to say about this delivery car topped with a giant chicken parked at the gas station/restaurant in Doolittle, MO, along I-44. But at last I must admit: I'm speechless.