Life is an adventure!  There’s your nugget of wisdom.  Truth for today.  Here is why I bring it up.  So often it seems that our concept of adventure is something that’s mystical or ethereal or whatever unachievable adjective we want to assign to it.  We think we have to arrange it­—make an appointment. Sometimes we feel it is a trip we have to spend months planning and saving for and examining every detail of in order to create the perfect set of memories.  My point is, every day you get out of bed and head out into your life is an adventure.  All too often we let routine and mundane parts of life rob us of the joy that can come from living in the moment.  Adventure is waiting for you to live it.

Case in point… I mentioned a few weeks ago, Camden graduated from high school.  ‘Tis the season for spring recitals, weddings, and open houses.  My wife planned an open house and my responsibility was to make it happen, of course.  Such is my lot.  I could simply resign myself to my lot in life, suck it up, and endure or I could step up to the challenge and have some fun.  Two years ago when Justin graduated we looked for something different to break the monotony of open houses for our sake and also the sake of all who would attend.  Cocktail wieners are good, but there are only so many ways to prepare cocktail wieners.  We could do the meatball thing, but I feel the Swedes already have a corner on that.  So that leaves us with cake or cupcakes… “Oh, I just don’t know.”  Forget all that, let’s have a hog roast.  That was our brilliant idea.  So that’s what we did.  We built a fire pit, bought a hog, butchered it, and had us a good, old-fashioned hog roast.  The hog roast went incredibly smooth for a first-time effort and overall the open house was well received.

My philosophy has always been along the if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it vein.  With that in mind, we set our sights on another hog roast.  The date was set in stone for June 4, this past Saturday.  With great anticipation we watched the daily forecast from the middle of the week on.  Our hearts would rise and sink with each drop and rise in the chance of weekend thunderstorms as we repeatedly refreshed The Weather Channel app hoping for more favorable results.  But as the weekend arrived and we checked the attendees on our Facebook event we noticed that Facebook had even decided to rub it in by posting the forecast on our event—70° with an 80% chance of thunderstorms. Exit “mundane”, enter “adventure.”

On Friday afternoon we picked up the pig and got him prepped, rubbed, and in the cooler.  I built my new side-fire barrel and got the fire pit ready to go.  We checked the forecast, said a prayer, and headed off to bed.

Saturday morning’s skies were pregnant with the promise of rain.  Our goal was to get the fires going and get Porky in the pit before the deluge began.  We lit the fires at 7:30 and had Pork Chop on the grill by 8:30.  All this was accomplished by me and my “pit crew” (Randi, Justin, and Gavin).  I stoked the side-fire and kept adding coals in the fire pit until it reached the desired temperature by 10:30.  I added the ribs we had removed from the pig on Friday evening to the grill and began the long wait for lunch.  My only job for the next 6 hours was to keep the fire pit at a steady 230° and make sure my ribs didn’t get too dry before lunchtime.  Things were going along swimmingly.  Or maybe I should say this is where things started to go swimmingly.  Oh well, you’ll get the picture.

It started to rain.  Not bad.  Just enough to make a nice steam rise from the sheet metal covering Babe, creating a rather ominous effect.  But, the rain continued to get progressively harder.  Okay, hard enough that the water is now pooling on top of the sheet metal and beginning to run back in on Piggly Wiggly.  I improvised and stuck a chunk of wood under each side of the sheet metal so the water would run off the outside instead of down inside.  Problem solved.  Not quite, now I’m losing heat and the rain has disabled my thermometer for telling an accurate temperature in the grill area.  I press on and the rain falls…harder.  My decision is to keep shoveling wood in the side-fire to keep it going strong and shovel the coals into the fire pit as soon as they are ready.  Plan your work, work your plan.  Or is it OODA…Observe, Orient, Decide, Act.  It’s actually, do the only thing I can think of and hope it works.  The rain continues.  For almost three hours.  We finally get a reprieve around 2pm.  Just in time to check the ribs for lunch.  Perfection.  The best ribs I have ever laid lips on.  Which was a relief on two counts… the weather problems, of course and the fact that our attempts at ribs two years ago had been a failure.  Not this time. They were spectacular.  Well, enough about the ribs.

I changed my wet clothes and continued to tend the fire in between ribs.  My parents, siblings, and a couple of close friends arrived and we were just hanging out and talking as the rain began to subside.  The top of the pit dried out and I could once again assess the temperature of our dinner.  Well, it seems that my new barrel worked really well in spite of the rain and I actually had an abundance of coals in the fire pit.  We checked the pig’s internal temps and found that he was actually done cooking.  So I made the executive decision to spread the coals and just “keep him warm” for another hour before getting him out and ready to serve.  Great idea, right?

Well, my sister, who I might add knows absolutely nothing whatsoever about roasting a hog, wants to know what all the smoke is about.  I try to play it off and tell her it’s nothing, but I’m in uncharted territory here.  Never cooked a pig in the rain.  Never had too many coals.  Never had this much smoke.  Things are getting a little tense here.  Some of us guys head in for a closer look.  We remove the cover only to find Piggy smoking like a chimney.  I’m talking every orifice.  Wherever there’s a hole there’s smoke.  I check the fire pit only to discover that my foil liner has sprung a leak and I now have grease burning in the fire pit.  You can only control temperature so long as there are no open flames.  So we lift the front of the rack and prop the rack up, pig and all, so the heat can escape.  We’re all looking at each other and back at the pig whose juices are now burnt on the foil.  My brother looks at me like I’m supposed to know what to do.  I can feel everyone else looking at me like I’m going to have the solution.  At that moment, the height of the swine crisis, my friend looks at the smoke slowly emanating from what was Wilbur’s rectum and quips, “I’ve had chili that hot before.”

I find it amazing the power humor has to relieve tension and restore rational thought.  “Hammy’s done—He’ll be hot for hours.  Let’s get him off here and get ready to eat.”  Right after I change my clothes, again.  From near disaster to a dang good BBQ, it was definitely an adventure.

Adventure is everywhere.  Sometimes it’s just a matter of perspective and a friend or two to share it.

Now go live your adventure.

Mike