Go read that other post of mine if you already haven't.

The last night they were here I went next door to give the fishermen their $5 change and they were having dinner.

Turns out the ditzy guy is a retired mutual funds salesman, but not like your local stockbroker: it was big deal, wholesale stuff in New York City. So the guesses that he was an AIG guy were close to the truth. I knew one of them is an lawyer, and the other one is a retired bank president. I didn't ask which bank, but come to think of it, maybe Lawrence, Kansas is where those folks that got us into this recession go to hide out.

I asked the lawyer a question about quit claim deeds that my lawyer hasn't answered yet, and he gave me the advice I needed, so that was a valuable thing.

Gary the Ditz called me every morning they were here to ask dumb questions. Apparently he has never heard of timers on lamps or motion sensors that turn on yard lights. Whenever he called, I pictured the other two just shaking their heads in the background.

The banker is a good cook, and he made the following dish:

Chicken gizzards (probably sold as hearts and gizzards)
Olive oil
Chopped onion
(Chopped carrot)
(Chopped celery)
Red wine ($12.99 a bottle) - about 1 cup
Water
Salt and pepper
Penne pasta, cooked

Brown the gizzards in olive oil until good and brown. Remove to a plate. Saute the vegetables a few minutes until the onions are soft. He said he used the carrots and celery to give it more bulk, but they aren't necessary. Pour in the wine and add water to make it soupy. Bring to a boil and simmer for hours. The cartilage in the gizzards breaks down and disappears and the meat tastes like beef. He stirred the cooked penne pasta into the stew and mixed it up for serving.

Here is a story the lawyer told about oil wildcatters:
One of the oil men wanted to impress his in-laws so he was going to smoke a huge 28-pound turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. (Don't ask how he got such a big turkey into a smoker - probably a Texan and didn't own anything small.) To mess with him, a couple of his buddies went to a restaurant and bought the smallest smoked chicken they had, substituted it for the turkey in the smoker and hid out in the bushes. He came out to check his bird, lifted up the lid, and just stood there trying to figure out what in the heck had happened, how could it cook down so much. The buddies got to laughing and he found them in the bushes with his 28 pounder.

Mr. Ditzy Mutual Funds had stories about Italian feasts because he's Italian and his wife's Italian. Then they talked about how much better olive oil tastes in Italy.

I had thought they would refuse the $5 in change, but I'm glad they took it because they left at least that in food and fancy ale and the very end of a bottle of Handmade Vodka (not that I drink Vodka but I might put it in some spaghetti sauce) so I don't feel guilty about the cold cuts and the bread and the cans of Coke, and the pancake mix, and the brats, and so on. I almost forgot: Chuck the banker also made some shrimp gumbo that they raved about, and they left some of that for me to try. I hope at least Chuck and the lawyer return some time.

And speaking of previous posts, I just now saw my passport leaning against the lamp on top of the roll top desk, so now my life is really complete.