Something that's just right in a rather perfect kind of way.
That last bowl of porridge was just hunky-dory for Goldilocks."
Memorial Day Weekend, 2K11: **See "hunky-dory." Bright and early that Monday morning I picked up some of the best things this world has to offer: a dozen donuts, a six-pack of Miller, and four good friends. We blasted Babs' "Before the Parade Passes By" on our way to the Casa del Pesci to park my Carolla. Once parked, we sifted through the teeming crowds lining the Elm Grove parade route and finally spotted our clan — decked out in red, white, blue, and Bloody Marys laden with pickles and summer sausage. (I'll stick with my Miller, thanks.)The sun beat down on our backs — Erin and I exchanged gobs of SPF 30 on each-others' necks. The donuts were melting, the beer bottles sweating. The paraders tossed tootsie rolls, American flag toothbrushes, and general merriment. The Grove gave us their vintage automobiles, their tennis club, their big brass bands, and their Uncle Sam stilt-walkers. I will tell you, it's not a lavish parade. I go every year and I hardly know why — it's not to see the Elm Grove Public Library in hopes of coming away with a free pencil. It's not to see The Women's Club or the town judge ride by, waving. But maybe it is. The overall feel of the parade is what makes it so special — the idea of a town being proud of the little things. The everyday things. The jobs and services we take for granted. In Elm Grove, on Memorial Day, everyone in town is parade-worthy. Everyone deserves some pomp and flare.
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