Wings

I opened my eyes in water. It took me a good five minutes to realize I wasn't under water anymore. I was on my bed. The cell phone indicated that it was 6:04 am.

6:04 am: rolled out of bed exhaling air. Inhaling air. I'm already one hour late.

6:07 am: like a fish, I slip and slop down the hall towards the kitchen. Where did these white walls come from?

6:09 am: the morning light hung in the kitchen like a grainy suspension. I turned the light on. I turned the ceiling fan on.

6:10 am: press the big, salient "Bake" button on the stove. A beep follows, then the sound of gas gushing from aged Baltimore pipes.

6:11 am: roughly chopped up half of a Vidalia onion, and ~2 oz of fresh ginger and then popped them into the ginormous white blender I just stole from my mother.

6:12 am: As my finger descended unto the "grate" button I thought of my room mate crashing out of sleep and into the blaring light of reality because of the loud, bothersome blender.

6:12.5 am: I pushed the button.

6:14 am: pour contents into pot. Simmer -- so begins my secret barbecue sauce.

6:20 am: loud beep from ancient heatmonger. 405 degrees it is.

6:21 am: retrieve the wings from the fridge where they've been soaking for 9 hours in my secrete marinade. One last stir and into the heatmonger.

6:22 am: J Vernon McGee is talking about Israel and bible prophecy and some of the nutty inferences circulating out there. I like McGee -- he isn't afraid to call a spade a spade.

6:30 am: Paper work at the kitchen table.

6:40 am: Check the wings. Good. Check the bubbling sauce -- good but too peppery. Add some mayo. John McArthur is talking about not being ashamed to make our request known to God. I like McArthur -- he isn't afraid to call a spade a spade.

7:25 am: Sauce is perfect. Wings are ready for the icing. I pulled them out of the oven, carefully dunk each in the super secret sauce and popped them back in the oven.

7:26 am: sweating profusely. No A/C -- end of paper work.

7:50 am: Alistair Begg, Crete, wings are done. Transfer to aluminum tray. Cover, place in Mahalo bag.

8:13 am: Out the door. Wings and local Riesling as tribute.

3:56 pm: Everyone devoured the wings. Satiated, but light headed. The room is slowly twirling. Note to self: don't touch local Riesling again.