WIT STOP

Lost TREASURE in Rugged GOLD-LACED MOUNTAINS and the Deepest Recesses of the FAMILY FRIDGE

ARIZONA SEEMS TO BE PROUD OF THOSE things in the state that are hard to find. Not only the Lost Dutchman gold mine, but countless other fortunes are reported to have been buried around the state by bank thieves, train robbers and other outlaw types. Some folks even claim that there is pirate booty hidden somewhere under our real estate. That's kind of incredible, since anyplace in Arizona is a long walk from the nearest pirate dock.

This magazine often boasts of the bike trails and nature walks that are "hidden away." Arizona is a great place for those who like to roam the countryside searching for cool, pleasant hideaways or digging for cool, concealed cash. Me? If I want to look for something I can't find, I don't have to go any farther than my own kitchen. There's always something concealed in my refrigerator.

I have my own search strategy for finding lost items in this kitchen appliance. It's the same strategy that husbands all across the country resort to. I open the door and gawk. I'm challenging the hidden item to surrender. I want whatever I'm looking for to give up, march forward and say, "You win. Here I am."

This annoys my spouse, who has a more pragmatic approach to the problem. "Move something," she prompts.

"Move what?" I ask her. "Move the milk carton." The milk carton is always right in front in any refrigerator, unless the milk is what I'm looking for. Then it's out of sight.

I move the milk. Nothing I want is behind it, so I gawk again. I'm reasonable. I'm giving this specific item another chance to emerge.

My wife suggests, "Look behind the mustard."

I say, "Where's the mustard?"

She says, "Right in front you. If it had teeth, it would bite you."

Sure enough, there it is, right in front of me. It wasn't there yesterday when I was looking for it. It was cleverly hidden behind something I wasn't looking for.

I move the jar of mustard, and there's nothing lurking behind it. I gawk again.

perret's Witstoo

My wife says, "Move the large bottle of soda." I do, and there is yet another large bottle of soda behind that. I tell her, "There's nothing but another bottle behind that." She says, "Why don't you move that, too?" I told you she was pragmatic.

Behind the second large bottle of soda is a small bottle of soda. That's not what I'm looking for.

My wife says, "Have you looked in the vegetable drawer?"

I say, "No. It's not in the vegetable drawer." She says, "How do you know if you haven't looked?"

I say, "In 42 years of marriage, nothing I've ever wanted or needed has ever been in the vegetable drawer."

She accepts the logic of that reply.

Then, "Have you looked on the bottom shelf?" she asks.

I'm surprised. "I never knew our refrigerator had a bottom shelf," I tell her.

She says, "Well, you do have to bend over to find it."

"What won't they think of next," I say. I bend over, but don't find what I want.

My wife asks, "Could it be in the freezer?"

Now she's making sport of me. I can never find anything I want in the main section of the refrigerator. I would never even dare search the freezer compartment. That's for experts.

"Move the leftover roast beef," she advises. I do.

"Look behind the butter ... the whipped cream ... the jar of jam."

I do... I do... I do.

"It's not in here!" I scream. "I've moved everything in this icebox. It's not here."

"It has to be in there," my wife says.

"It's not," I insist.

She says, "What are you looking for?"

"I have no idea," I confess. "I was so intent on looking for it that I forgot what it was. I lost it somewhere between the first and second large bottle of soda."

Being ever-pragmatic, she says, "Then close the refrigerator door. You're wasting electricity." I do.

So a word of advice for those of you who may be searching for the Lost Dutchman Mine, some buried pirate treasure or just a simple secluded retreat no one else has discovered yet -don't bother moving anything. It's not behind it. AH Gene Perret's latest book is the humorous children's story, Harvey Green, the Eating Machine. It takes a fun, rhyming look at one little boy's prodigious appetite. To order this book ($14.95 plus shipping and handling) or any of the Perret humor books, call toll-free (800) 543-5432. In Phoenix, call (602) 712-2000. Or use arizonahighways.com.