Grandpa Whitey used to say that Portsmouth, Ohio was the anal sphincter of the Universe. I don't know exactly what pissed him off about the place. He didn't expound much on the subject. Then, I went there. I understood. I was on one of my family "emergency" camping trips, and I'd piled the kids and the wife into the Blazer and headed to Shawnee Forest for the weekend. I'd just gotten the bug on a Saturday morning and called "Wheels up in Fifteen!" I used to do that a lot before we got the farm.

BTW: Shawnee Forest is a great place to camp and hike. I recommend it heartily.

We didn't shop for the trip until we had the tents pitched. Portsmouth is the nearest town. We drove in to shop for dinner. It took a while to find the IGA. It was situated in the middle of a war zone neighborhood. The closest thing to a sirloin steak was only a 1/4 inch thick. I looked for something to spice it up. No A1. No Worchestershire. They had ketchup. I did find a bottle of something called Country Bob's.

It turned out Country Bob's was the highlight of the trip.

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It's kind of like a toothless hillbilly version of AP Sauce. It has a way of looking back at you from the plate and saying, "Your lips sure look pretty." Anyhow, the kids liked it and we didn't have any arguments about cleaning their plates. I call that a win.

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