Down the road from the project, in a convenience/restaurant, I found something I didn't expect.
I've had gyros in the past, but none ever impressed me, so it's one of those sandwiches I usually avoid.
This evening, succumbing to an urge, I ordered a gyro to go.
The cook is a man named Nick. I don't know where he's from, but he has a heavy Italian accent, and most of the menu is Italian food.
Nick asked if wanted the regular gyro, or the good one. When I asked the difference, he said the good one is lamb and beef, with grilled onions and peppers.
I answered: "I want the good one."
The aroma was intoxicating all the way back to the motel. When I arrived at my room, I opened the take out container, examined the gyro, cut it in two and soon dug in.
For years, I always wondered about the huge attraction to gyros. Now I know, and will crave the things; even after I'm through with the project and back at home.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.