I munched around over to Pete's again today but even though the nights have cooled off, the days are just as hot, so we didn't do nothing today, either, just sat around on the deck and drank beer and talked. I asked him about that "pig-sticking" thing because it was on my mind and he said--let me see if I can get this straight--that it comes from Afghanistan by way of India. See, the Afghans were terrific riders and fierce fighters and they sort of put them both into this game where they'd chase a wild pig on horseback and the first one to stick him with his lance won the game. He said their pigs weren't nothing like the ones we get bacon off of but these huge, nasty things with big sharp tusks and a lousy attitude that would go after a tiger if they had to, and maybe win. The horses would get gored sometimes, and sometimes the riders would get killed. "This was no game for small boys," he said. Then the Indian Rajahs (he made me look up all these words and he dug out his books of maps and showed me where everything was, so if it sounds like I got smart all of a sudden, I didn't, I'm just telling you what he told me), they thought the game was wicked cool and they brought it back to India and then the British came and they saw the Rajahs doing it and they called it "pig-sticking". India's practically--well, not practically, it is right next door to Afghanistan, which he said the British invaded right after they invaded India, only in Afghanistan they got their asses whupped bad--the Afghan tribes, not even a real army, wiped out a whole British army (they had more than one I guess, at least Pete talked like they did; they called this one the Elephant Army, or something like that) when it tried to retreat from Kabul along the Khyber Pass. It was a massacre, Pete said. There was pictures of the mountains in the books and they looked mean, all cliffs and canyons and sharp rocks and hardly any trees or grass, they make the Rockies look like little hills you might take a stroll up one Sunday afternoon, and I started thinking--We got soldiers there? In the middle of that?

Pete says, "Where'd you think they were?" and I said I didn't know but I didn't think it looked like that. No wonder they can't find that Binladden guy. Christ, it would take three armies to find him up there, and they better know the territory or they're going to get lost, too. When I was in the Army we went on maneuvers in the mountains once, in Kentucky. We didn't exactly get lost but we didn't exactly always know where we was, either, and those mountains wasn't half as bad as the ones in the books. Hell, you could lose a aircraft carrier up there.

Anyway, back to the pig-sticking. I asked him what about the sweat and he said he thought it was because when the Afghans got finished sticking all their lances in the boar, it was so covered with blood it looked like it was sweating the stuff right through its skin. I think that one's pretty far-fetched, and I said maybe they didn't really come from the same place but was two sayings that got sort of bunched up together, which might explain why it didn't make no sense, but he looked at me funny so I guess I was way off base there. Then when I checked in here I see Tamara left a comment, and she says--well, hell, why don't I let you read it for yourself?

I'm not sure about this but I think the phrase,"sweating like a stuck pig", may be refuring to when you take a whole pig and "stick" it on a spit to cook it over a open fire. (I think they actually used to use sharpened sticks) As it heats up it starts to sizzle or "sweat". Although I've heard this same saying many times living in Alabama, where it gets real hot, and is humid most of the time, I never really thought about the meaning until today. Then it just came to me.

Now that makes a lot more sense to me than Pete's long history story, and cooking was something Ma would have known about for sure, so I think Tamara's story is better but Pete's sure was interesting. I learned a lot this afternoon from that one stupid little question, even if the answer was wrong. Them Afghans sound like tough cookies, and I hope we ain't bit off more than we can chew over there (which is another of Ma's sayings but I know what that one means).

I came home and then Sam came by and I told her all about the Afghans and the pig-sticking and the mountains and everything and she looked at me at first like I was something from outer space because she ain't never heard me talk about stuff like that before, and so then I said I wanted to take a history course in the fall because I never knew there was such wicked cool stuff in it and her eyes got even bigger so I said I was thinking of maybe being a history teacher someday, and she just about fell on the floor. She dropped into a chair and she stared at me like she was wondering was I maybe been replaced by my evil twin like on one of her soaps, and I tried to keep a straight face but I could only do it so long and when I finally laughed at the way she was looking at me, she rose up and flung the seat cushion at my head, which I was just a little late ducking out of the way of.

But you know, I was part-way serious. I mean, I took history in high school--I had to, they made me, they made everybody take it--but it was all about kings and wars and who traded what with who and stuff and it was boring as hell. Now if some teacher in one of them classes had told me about the Afghans riding around sticking pigs with their lances, I would have paid attention. It got me thinking, and I wonder if there ain't a lot more cool shit like that in history that they never told us about in high school, and if there is, maybe I'll take a history course after all. Worst that can happen is it'll be the same dumb crap I had before, and who knows, maybe I'll get it this time. Anyway, it would make Sam look at me like I was maybe worth something, you know, mentally. She says I'm a nice guy and kind to animals and good to her and all that junk but she ain't never had much respect for my smarts, not that I can blame her. I never thought I was smart either, but I'm what Ma used to say was the curious type, I like to know what's going on, and anyway, how smart do you have to be to read about guys on horses sticking wild boars with their spears for fun? That's the kind of history I could get behind, and I sure would like to surprise Sam with something she don't expect. And not like i did today.

See, after I picked up the cushion, she says, "So now you finished screwin around, tell me the important stuff. What did Professor Pete say about your writing?" and damn if it didn't dawn on my thick head that I clean forgot to ask him about it.