The dogs were barking as the cars were parking.
Practically everyone was there.
There were forty italian sausages cooking on the outdoor grill. And they were sssssssizzlin'.
This is the first trip we decided to go without plates and silverware. Anything to avoid the "women-tended" label:
The owner of the Ser Sta Gro offered me fifteen dollars for the pup, and when I turned it down, he said he didn't blame me, and went out to commandeer a seat for me, regally, in a blue pickup truck that stopped for gas. The two men in it were brown lean small-townsmen headed out to a deer lease, and made room cheerfully for me and the pup. They were talking about how they'd packed the eggs and whether the milk would keep without ice and such matters, the talk of women-tended men magnifying the maleness of a three or four-day expedition away from their women.
Goodbye to a River, p. 81
We had to eat with some shhhhhharp objects.
Or perhaps, catch a few fish. Whatever came first.
Standing by peaceful waters.