24 Carat Star Time

ChessMan suffers from chronic back pain, which sometimes infringes upon his/our quality of life mightily. That’s why he was very glad to find a kind and understanding – and capable – physical therapist here in our village. In addition to the massages and other prescription treatments she provides, she also allows him to work out on her equipment as often as he likes at no additional charge. That means that – in a good week – he’ll saunter over there for a 45 minute workout maybe 2 or 3 times.

As a kind of ‘thank you’ for the free access to her equipment, ChessMan has gotten into the habit of buying a nice bouquet of flowers for her practice once a month when he goes to the Netherlands to do business. Great for me, because I always get a new bouquet, too.

Last month, though, our young neighbors welcomed the birth of their 1st son. They moved in the house that adjoins ours approximately a month after we moved in here. They are a much younger couple with whom we have no intensive contact, but are nice and very easy to get along with. Because the physical therapist’s practice was closed that day anyway, and we hadn’t gotten out to get anything else, I quickly wrote a card and ChessMan brought the happy parents the colorful bouquet he had picked out in the Netherlands that month.

This presented him the question: What do I get for my physical therapist?

I guess there is a lot you can talk about while someone is kneading your muscles as you’re lying there in your mighty whities… In any case, ChessMan knew that this nice young lady likes certain Dutch specialties, including smoked eel. Me? I’m not much into it (though there is a sushi place in Dusseldorf where the owner makes his own special sauce to go along with the most succulent pieces of smoked eel….yum!).

In any case, I did remember there being a fishmongers (do people even use that word anymore?) just across the border to the Netherlands at Rothenbach/Vlodrop. On a slightly cooler but nonetheless sunny day, ChessMan and I headed for the border. I was right, said fishmongers was right there at the border along with a fresh vegetable stand and a flower shop. We went in and ChessMan copped 4 whole smoked eels, as well as 2 pickled herring – and that stuff ain’t cheap, let me tell you! While we were there, we also ordered 2 ‘Backfisch’, which is basically an entire fish filet dipped into a light batter and deep-fried. It was SOOO good! The fish was fresh, white and flaky and the batter was thin and fried to a tasty crunch. We took our fish to an outside table and enjoyed it in the sun…

A few days later – after ChessMan had duly presented his therapist with 2 of the smoky devils – I was upstairs on the phone with The Ex waiting for a chance to chat with TheGirl when ChessMan decided to partake in his eel and a couple of beers while watching a football (i.e. soccer) match. It’s European Championship time, for those of you who don’t follow that sort of thing. In any case, out of nowhere I heard ChessMan screaming and cursing at the dogs. I mean really yelling, too, and not that stage yell you give them when you want to get their attention and/or try to discipline them.

Suddenly, Termi came running up the stairs like a bat out of hell and tried to leap onto my lap in a single bound. His ears were tucked aerodynamically close to his head and his eyes pleaded for protection. ‘I AM IN BIG TROUBLE’, they seemed to say.

And his breath reeked of smoked eel!

Seems ChessMan had finished off one eel and decided to take the leftover skin, etc., in to the garbage pail in the kitchen. While he was gone – and his 2nd eel unattended – Termi took things into his own…mouth – and absconded with said 2nd eel.

Yes, our dogs eat fish (and asparagus, too, for that matter).

No, they shouldn’t steal from the table.

Oh, not to worry – Termi did live long enough to give me permission to tell the tale…