I set, I believe, a successful run this morning for the Little Rock Hash House Harriers. About twenty people showed. However, I used the bowl my mother bought when we lived in Fairbanks, Alaska, to hold cold-boiled shrimp cocktail sauce (I think [hope] if you google cold-boiled shrimp, you will find that is what shrimp was called in the 1960s and '70s, back when people boiled raw shrimp for about 75 seconds to make what was then called cold-boiled shrimp. It was, and in Levy, as of this morning, still is, then dropped in ice and thoroughly chilled). I cooked three pounds of it this morning, and it was much celebrated. However, I put the cocktail sauce in that old, old bowl. I dropped it right before I drove John (Finger Picken' Good) Kelly home, and it broke into c. 54 pieces. I picked them all up and threw them into a particularly smelly garbage can.
Rats. I did not show it, but I wish I had not broken that bowl.
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