Good Stuff

Watch to the end . . .

Breakfast at the Road Runner Cafe

by William Notter

CAFE still burning in neon after sunup,
and a bird's gangly silhouette stretched out
with speed—the sign draws me in.
The walls inside are hung with Spanish prayers,
kachina dolls, chili pepper bundles,
and a three-foot Christ sanctifies relief
from the bluster of New Mexico spring.

The waitress brings coffee and cream.
The gaunt, mustachioed cook
whets his spatula against the grill
scrambling huevos Mexicanos
with chopped green chilies, tomatoes, onion,
tortillas and beans on the side.
A whiskered man at the counter brags
to the waitress about the money he can make
selling copper wire for scrap,
and how he drank thirteen beers
the night before, and wasn't even drunk.
Highway patrolmen talk knockdown power
and calibers, a courthouse blown apart
by a fertilizer bomb in the back of a truck.
A skittish Navajo woman, Drug Free and Proud
printed on her shirt, opens a letter
and swirls ice cubes with her butter knife.

The letter might be from a son locked up
for stealing cars in Albuquerque,
a power disconnect notice, or news
her sister died of exposure out in the hills.
Maybe she's just back to the world
from a stay in detox, chewing ice
to keep from thinking she could walk downtown
and be served a bottle of gin
or eighth-ounce bag of weed
as easily as eggs and toast.

A stranger can only say so much
in the open noise of sputtering grease,
small talk, spoons clacking in coffee mugs.
If she can just hold tight to something,
those cravings will disappear the way wind
blows mountains of cloud across the sky.
She could find comfort in a place like this,
the silvery riffle of cottonwood leaves outside,
a novena candle flickering by the door
to keep Jesus lit at night, find pleasure
in good food and desert light across the tables.

The woman lays a few bills down
by her plate of half-eaten eggs,
and walks outside to the payphone.
She holds her black hair with one hand
against the lashing wind. What can a stranger say?
The Santa Fe's red and yellow engines
come thrumming west beside the highway
as I go out the door. Hang on. She turns
and I shout again, Just hang on.
Past the train is sandstone sunbleached yellow,
knobby juniper clutching at the hills.

Mobility: Not Covered

Remember how we were so excited about Annabelle's wheelchair and stander that were on order but that we were trying not to get our hopes up?

Yeah.

Turns out, the equipment isn't covered by our insurance (notice me restraining myself from swearing . . .).

The very idea that ANY insurance policy in America can deny a wheelchair to little girl who can't walk is ABSURD.

Apparently, mobility is a luxury.

So, we met with the folks from Early Start this morning and brainstormed some ideas. My big project next week is to squeeze as much charitable blood out of every government turnip in San Diego. There's California Children's Services, SSI, Medi-cal, Healthy Families, heck - while I am at it I will apply for WIC as well! (Have I mentioned that we have applied and been turned down for all these programs, except WIC, already?)

I am not the type who wants to "work the system". My approach is to take only as much assistance as we absolutely need and then leave the rest for others BUT DANG-GONNIT HOW IS IT THAT ANNIE'S WHEELCHAIR IS NOT COVERED!!!!!?????? I suppose she should just sit in the corner like a potted plant and be grateful that she has a place to sit . . . (sorry, see me resisting swearing?).

We have had people offer to help raise money to purchase the equipment outright (and the offer is much appreciated) but that's not how this is supposed to work - we should not have to rely on friends and relatives for something like a WHEELCHAIR AND STANDER.

So I will spend all next week wrapping my head in red tape and banging it against government bureaucracies.

I am losing my patience with all this so here is a public service announcement: Stay outta arm's reach - I am looking for someone to choke . . .

Sunday Afternoon Club / Foursquare

A month or so ago, the wife, child and I went here for lunch after church. While we were there, relaxing on their patio, we thought, "You know who would really like this . . . ?"

So the next Sunday we went back with a couple of friends. We started discussing how there are so many sights to see in San Diego and yet we never go - so we started making a list and thus, the Sunday Afternoon Club was born.

So what's on the list?:

-Concert @ La Jolla Shores Park (2-4pm): Possibly swimming and wine on the hotel roof @ sunset
-Zoo
-Old Town / Wine & Sandwiches @ Presidio Park
-Hike to swim
-Pool day
-Dog beach / Hibachi cook-out
-Frisbee golf / possibly swimming @ the Morley Park pool
-Swimming at the Hyatt downtown / coffee at Upstart Crow
-Wine steals (again)
-Hotel Del Coronado
-Lawn bowling @ Balboa Park / Mint Juleps?
-Wine / Sandwiches at Mission de Alcala
-Temecula wine tasting
-Getty
-Solana beach
-Top of the Hyatt
-Soak City
-Disneyland
-Knotts
-Magic Mountain
-Lego Land
(Bocce of course combined with just about any of these)

Of course, some of these are not in San Diego per se and some would require an entire day instead of an afternoon but it's great to get out with friends and change it up on a regular basis.

Which brings me to Foursquare.

I have been hearing about Foursquare every day for months and I finally broke down and checked it out. Basically, your phone's GPS recognizes your location and you can "check in". For instance, you may be at a favorite restaurant - whip out your phone, push a button, and everyone in your circle sees that you have "checked in" to that restaurant. You can also leave reviews and recommendations.

The idea is that you and your friends can share favorite places around town - its a pooling of local knowledge with those close to you.

Naturally, once I signed up I discovered that no one I know in San Diego is signed up with Foursquare.

So here is a plea to all my smart-phone buddies in SD - check out Foursquare- sign up if it interests you and let's share our favorite SD sights and places!

Pigs are About to Fly: (Political Screed)

I know, I know . . . I try to stay away from politics . . .

But when I hear stuff like THIS. Hmmmm . . . .

There have been two times in my life when I have not voted Republican: In 1979 in a straw poll at my elementary school when I voted for presidential candidate Anderson (independent) and in 1992 when I voted for Perot (I am still embarrassed about that one). I did not vote for Obama but I am not so obtuse as to think every little piece of everything he has done is anathema.

Take, for instance, one little piece of the health-care over-haul: pre-existing conditions. Under the new reforms, no insurance company can deny Annabelle coverage based on her being born with SB. If the reform were repealed, Annabelle runs the risk of becoming uninsurable.

I am sure there are problems with the health care bill but in my mind, this is not one of them. Fine, pass further amendments - fix the parts that are outta whack - but this baby-out-with-the-bath-water approach really steams me.

When I hear interviews like the one above, I am strongly tempted to vote a straight-ticket come November - just not in the way the tea party hopes I will.

Dial back the rhetoric, folks . . .

Why I Don't Farm . . .

I'd just be doing stupid stuff like this all day long . . . .

Happy National Dog Day!

More dog goodness from Lileks:

Gave the dog a scrap of pizza, then took it back because my wife reminded me I should cut it up for him so he can’t eat it all at once and enjoys it more.

But it’s possible he’s frustrated because it takes longer to eat.

She didn’t agree. I think she’s wrong. For dogs there are two states: FOOD and NOT FOOD. Once they hit the second state the fact that there was ever FOOD in the first place is forgotten; they are now experiencing NOT FOOD, and so the mission is now FOOD. Which is why he drove us nuts today. From me he expects no scraps while I eat. I never gave him any. As Alpha, I eat what I want, and if there’s anything left, that’s another issue. But the rest of the pack always shared , out of that peculiar human virtue called kindness – or, more likely, their inability to turn down that pleading, curious face – so he has, over the years, come to view their food as his food. So. When they come home after I’ve had supper, he harangues them. When they eat separate meals spaced a half-hour apart, he has to yell at them. When everything is done but there are still visual and scent-related clues that the possibility of FOOD exists, he will bark to be let outside where we sit, BARK to demand we go inside, BARK when we get there, BARK when we leave in exasperation, and BARK until someone does something stupid, like give him a few bits of kibble, which guarantees more barking tomorrow.

The wife and child say “he feels cheated” otherwise, but I try to explain that they are investing human emotions into a rather simple creature. What dogs want is this: they want an answer. Is there someone at the door? Yes or no. Is a walk about to happen? Yes or no. Is there more food? Yes or no. If the expectation is YES and the answer is NO, then they put their head down and stare and sigh, that wonderfully human gust of disappointment, but it’s the sound they make when they get the answer, and it’s the wrong one. But that’s okay. It fits in the order of things. Dogs hate uncertainty. It makes them neurotic.

My dog’s not neurotic. He just has his priorities straight and knows what works. From that we could all take a lesson.

But wait . . . there's more!



Dear Dawg:

Job Hunt: Update

Nothing. Nada. Zip. I am still firing off resumes every day but with little effect. Wost recession since the depression they say. More and more I am hearing close-to-home anecdotes about people who have been out of work for 12 months or more.

Jeepers.

I did get to facilitate our Sunday School class a couple of weeks ago. If you aren't familiar with the concept, Sunday School is like a book club where all the books point to the same basic subject. We have a great group of thoughtful folks that gather every Sunday morning so I put the question to them - Calling vs Responsibilities - Gifts vs Abilities.

Sean has a nice round up here and here.

When you are temporarily out of work, job one is to get work. You don't want to settle in - get comfortable - this is temporary - you will be a 9 to 5'er again before you know it. No point in making any great life changes until you find out what sort of demands the new job will entail.

Yeah . . .

It's been close to 3 months now and I am beginning to think I should do something more productive with my time than just job hunting - believe me, the job hunt will continue - but maybe I should try incorporating some bliss since I have an opportunity . . .

Let's see . . . where's that Bob Ross paint set . . . .

Quote of the Day

I’m often wrong, but never in doubt.

- Ivy Baker Priest

Balloons

People with SB have historically had a latex allergy which means that we have to be on a general lookout for all things latex - including most balloons. This past weekend we went to a birthday party that had non-latex balloons and each child got to take a couple home.

Annie has never really seen balloons before and she loves them. She been playing with these two all week . . . .

The Couger

Just heard an interview with John Mellencamp on NPR about his career and new album Hear "No Better Than This".

I wouldn't call myself a "fan" but I have to admit that almost every time he comes across the airwaves I start tapping my toes. At one point in the interview, he was asked how he felt about John McCain using one of his songs during the campaign since Mellencamp is a "life-long democrat". Mellencamp corrected the interviewer and said, "I don't know about a life-long Democrat. I'm a liberal - very liberal." And I respect that. Don't agree - but respect.

For the next couple of weeks, you can listen to his entire new album for free at NPR:

StoryCorps

True stories told by regular people (I may have already posted this one)

Q&A from StoryCorps on Vimeo.

For the Cat Lovers

StoryCorps

True stories told by regular people

Danny & Annie from StoryCorps on Vimeo.

Just Another Day

Annabelle just does this about every other day or so - she goes into a laughing fit for no apparent reason. Take a look at this - I promise you, there is NOTHING going on in this room - no one is egging her on . . .

Welcome Home - And Thank You

Exaggeration

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

We overstate the ills of life, and take
Imagination (given us to bring down
The choirs of singing angels overshone
By God's clear glory) down our earth to rake
The dismal snows instead, flake following flake,
To cover all the corn; we walk upon
The shadow of hills across a level thrown,
And pant like climbers: near the alder brake
We sigh so loud, the nightingale within
Refuses to sing loud, as else she would.
O brothers, let us leave the shame and sin
Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,
The holy name of Grief! - holy herein
That by the grief of One came all our good.

New Swimmin Pool

Annie has always loved water and "splish-splashing" so a kiddie pool was on the list for this summer. When the birthday party rolled around, I finally had the extra incentive I needed to go out and get one. I wanted one big enough that Annie could use her floaty ring so I bought the biggest one Toys R Us had.

I had a dope-slap moment when I realized it was only $14 - I should have bought one months ago . . .



Oh yeah, we will get $14 worth of fun out of this!

Blue Like Jazz / A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

So I just finished Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. It is a great book and one that I think just about anyone can appreciate. In the book, Donald Miller, a self-described liberal, discusses his many problems with organized religion while at the same time maintaining a deep desire to follow the teachings of Christ.

I loved it so much that I bought his next book A Million Miles in A Thousand Years and read it in just a couple of sittings. In the second book, the author discusses his desire to make a better story of his life by pursuing new experiences.

After reading and comparing both books, I would describe Blue Like Jazz as a book that helps you think better while A Million Miles is a book that helps you live better.

I will be revisiting these books in the future I am sure.

Highly recommended!

Making Love

So the wee-one turned two this past week and people gathered around to celebrate and express their love. I don't know if this is true but feels as if Annabelle is especially loved by others. Just by virtue of her story and anticipated future obstacles and her sweet spirit.

In thinking about the party I turned somewhat philosophical about love. Love is not an "is", love is a "might be". In other words, love is not like iron ore - a certain finite amount in the universe. You cannot take love from one place and move it to another.

Love has to be created - and in some ways, as soon as it is expressed, love begins to dissipate and so must be expressed over and over and over again.

I would argue that love is created when we allow a bit of God to flow through us - to another person or a thing, a sunset, a good meal with friends.

So much love has been expressed / created because of Annabelle and it makes me pause.

Children with disabilities in some ways may be God's gift to us - like a free shot of "love espresso" in our life-latte. God says, "You think you know love? Watch this!" and he gives us a fragile person to care for.

The world has felt more love because of Annabelle than it would have without her.

I fear a world without disabilities and suffering.

I fear that it will be diminished in its love.

Dinner in the yard

The other night we ate outside - something we don't do enough of.

Thanks to our neighbor's tree we have an endless supply of lemons and they often hand us a bunch over the fence between our yards.

We were given a bunch of lemons while we were eating dinner and Annie thought they were hilarious.

Quote of the Day

A friend is one who comes to you when all others leave.

~ Unknown

E-tiquette

1) I LOVE my new Kindle
2) It brings up ethical questions

First, why I love my new Kindle. It is the closest digital thing to a book. What I mean by that is it is in black and white, you can read it in sun or shade - even with polarized sunglasses. You CAN'T get email or surf the web on it. When you are reading, it doesn't even have a clock in the corner. It just does two things really well: it replaces paper books and it acts as a ipod for your library. I know you can get books on ipads etc but I don't think I could handle all the distractions of being fully plugged in to the intertubes. When I want to sit with a book - I want to unplug and just read. The kindle let's you do that.

=aside= Just yesterday, I finished a book and loved it so much that I wanted to read the author's next book. So I went out and got it. And by "go out" I mean I didn't move from the lawn chair on my deck, I just pressed a button and $7 and 60 seconds later, I was reading the new book. THAT my friends, is awesome.=end aside=

Second, the ethics. The books on kindle are WAY cheaper than paper books - Much of the time a kindle book is half price or better - public domain books are free. And yet, I still like to walk the stacks at our local bookstores and just browse.

I am pretty sure Barnes and Noble doesn't want me walking through their store with my kindle queuing up books that catch my eye on my Amazon wish list. Although B&N has come out with their own e-reader so I guess this is a grey area. More black and white where independent book stores are concerned, I suppose

What if I am not "shopping" but just want to sit and read? We were out and about the other day and stopped into one of our favorite independent book stores.


We got some coffee and sat at a table. I wanted to whip out my kindle and read but since you can only purchase kindle books through amazon.com, isn't whipping out your kindle in a bookstore a little like eating your Burger King Whopper in a McDonald's?

Then again if I had a paper book purchased on amazon no one would be the wiser.

And what about reading a kindle book on your laptop or smart phone? Chances are, no one would notice - so perhaps it is the kindle device itself that may offend.

Amazon just reported that for the first time, kindle books outsold paper versions. E-books are going to put some bookstores out of business. When you consider the environment, this is probably a good thing but is carrying a kindle into an independent bookstore rude?

I talked this over with a fellow kindle owner and we decided that so long as you buy something (coffee etc) you have earned the right to read anything you like - sort of like buying a small coffee at a Starbucks so you can use their restroom.


But still, I am hesitant.

What do you think?

New Religion

by Bill Holm

This morning no sound but the loud
breathing of the sea. Suppose that under
all that salt water lived the god
that humans have spent ten thousand years
trawling the heavens for.
We caught the wrong metaphor.
Real space is wet and underneath,
the church of shark and whale and cod.
The noise of those vast lungs
exhaling: the plain chanting of monkfish choirs.
Heaven's not up but down, and hell
is to evaporate in air. Salvation,
to drown and breathe
forever with the sea.

Redrawing Boundaries

Well, we finally have Annabelle's first legit wheelchair on order. We hope to have it by the end of the month but we are trying not to get our hopes up that it will come through at all (insurance has taught us not to count our chickens).

I think it will look like this except the cushions will be black and the frame will be pink. They also offered to embroider it for free so it will say "Annabelle" in pink script along the back.

For the past year or so, Annie has been wheeling around in a DIY cart on loan from therapy.

We have never taken the cart outside our house and when people are over, Annabelle is usually being passed from one fan to another so very few people have ever seen Annie in wheeled action.

At the tail end of the birthday party this past weekend, the wife set Annie in her cart and the wee-one was off and running as usual. Friends were astonished. One close friend said seeing Annie getting herself around was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in a long time.

Of course, kids being kids, one of the children started pushing Annie this way and that and we had to explain that, although it seems fun, it isn't appropriate. No big deal - we are all learning new social boundaries when it comes to Annabelle.

Here couple of interesting things I have read on wheelchair etiquette:

1) Never push a person's wheelchair unless asked to. Even if you are trying to be helpful. You should no more push someones wheelchair without permission than you would push any person from behind.

2) A wheelchair should be considered a part of the user's body. Never lean on it, hang your bags on it, ride on it, basically do not touch it unless asked. In the case of children, only touch their wheelchair if you would be touching a typical child in the same situation (in danger, goofing off etc)

It was great to see friend's reactions to Annie in her cart and it was interesting to see how the other kids responded. But it brought the idea of her up-coming wheelchair and its related issues into sharper focus.

Annie-Lu's Two-Two Celebration!

To be honest, we weren't sure we would have a party this time. We are not kid-party-production people. We don't really go in for themes and we don't hire entertainment. We prefer to keep the guest list under 20 instead of over 50.

Not that there is anything wrong with all of that - we have plenty of fun at parties that are big productions - but it takes a certain amount of commitment (not to mention $$) to pull off a "production" and we find ourselves lacking on both accounts.

So 10 days before Annie's b-day, the wife and I had a sit-down; "What are we going to do about Annie's b-day?"

The wife voted for no party - just call a few people and have them over for dinner.

I pushed for a simple party: scaled down guest list - crock-pot food and hot dogs - maybe a kiddie pool.

We compromised on a family day Saturday (Annie's actual b-day) finished with dinner out - just the three of us - with a small, simple, party on Sunday.

Then I started working on the e-vite . . . .

The wife wanted to use a different photo - then she wanted a different over-all look to the e-vite. Then she wanted a catchy title involving the word "two". So we ended up with Annie-Lu's Two-Two party.

Just by working up an evite, we managed to go from no party to a themed party . . . here we go . . .

So now there HAD to be a tu-tu-making station for anyone who showed up under-dressed . . . oh, and we need a slide show, and a kiddie pool, and a cake in the shape of a tu-tu, and decorations, and how are we going to get all this done in one week?

I think we mostly managed to keep the whole planning / shopping / set-up process fun instead of stressful. Because of the short notice, there were people who couldn't make it. In the end it was a good weekend capped by a great party.

Even as the wife and I spent most of the next day cleaning up, we both kept saying "That was a great party".

And it was.

Happy Two-Two Annie-Lu!

Epithalamium

by Thomas Lynch

That man who was married in the same black suit
he was laid out in, years later, and buried,
his widow's tears—they might all make sense to you,
now that the two of you are to be married.

You've seen old photos of the two of them
taken seven decades back or more.
They showed up smiling and said, of course
we will, for better or worse, and then

they raised their glasses, cut the cake and kissed
and tossed the bride's bouquet and garter out
and thanked their parents and assembled guests,
then danced until the candles were blown out,

then danced some more; they were that enamored.
And who could blame them, so nearly perfect
in their flesh and finery and desires;
in all ways poised and blessed and elect

as you are now, and may you always be:
each of you eager to please the other
to let the selfish minute pass, to see
yourselves perfected always in each other.

That old man, when he was young, he brought his bride
home to the house he had readied for her,
and swept her up and carried her inside
as was the custom then, and then together

they helped each other out of their new clothes:
his gabardines, her lace and satin gown,
his tie, her veil, his buttons and her bows
then stood there looking at themselves, alone.

Before they fell into their embracing,
because they thought they'd need them in the end,
they tucked their garments carefully away
in cedar boxes underneath the bed.

And when the going got a little rough
when patience frayed or tempers flared, when love
seemed to have left them only filled with loss
as in all lifelong marriages it must,

when forgiveness and forgetting seemed
impossible, they'd kneel beside their bed
and bury their faces in those wedding things—
her tears, his curses, her fears, his pride and dread,

all dried and muffled in that day's old raiments
which smelled of their sweet youth and promises.
And though they never settled everything,
they did their best to do the next best thing.

The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth . . . Whadda Ya Mean there's More?

The Gardener

by Ken Weisner

For Kit

You get down on your knees in the dark earth—alone
for hours in hot sun, yanking weed roots, staking trellises,
burning your shoulders, swatting gnats; you strain your muscled
midwestern neck and back, callous your pianist's hands.

You cut roses back so they won't fruit, rip out and replace
spent annuals. You fill your garden dense with roots and vines.
And when a humble sprout climbs like a worm up out of death,
you are there to bless it, in your green patch, all spring and summer long,

hose like a scepter, a reliquary vessel; you hum
through the dreamy wilderness—no one to judge, absolve,
or be absolved—purified by labor, confessed by its whisperings, connected
to its innocence. So when you heft a woody, brushy tangle, or stumble

inside grimy, spent by earth, I see all the sacraments in place—
and the redeemed world never smelled so sweet.

Quote of the Day

Generosity with strings is not generosity, it is a deal.

- Myra Manes

The Gymnast

So having a daughter like Annabelle can lead to some bizarre moments in parenthood. Lately, Annie's gymnastics in her crib have been quite the topic around the house.

Not only does Annabelle not feel her legs, her hips are actually dislocated (this is a good thing but too involved to explain here). So as Annie scoots and tumbles and rolls around in her crib, her legs go where they will which can really FREAK A PARENT OUT when you go in to get her up in the morning and she has tied herself into a pretzel.

Just to give you a visual on one of Annie's favorite moves, I pulled this photo off the Internet:


Annie will push herself backwards which causes her legs to go into the splits. Somehow one leg ends up straight and the other bends at the knee. So imagine if the person in the photo pushed herself up to a sitting position, in the splits, with one leg straight and one bent.

Now imagine you find your 2-year-old sitting up in that position; happy as can be.

And just for one final "kicker", imagine your two-year-old sleeping that way. With her head next to her outstretched ankle.

The therapists have assured us this is normal and fine and does not pose any problems at all so we have basically learned to live with it.

But it still causes us to pause every now and then and say, "Whoa".

Awww Kitty . . .

Get it?

It's hard to believe that Annie-Lu is going to be turning two this week.

These are the sorts of occasions that bring your child's development into sharper focus. This year's birthday is compared to last year's along with Halloween, Christmas and so-on. As a parent, I look for signs to she if she "get's it" this year.

We recently got a gift package from "Poppa and Gram" in the mail and we set the gift bag on the floor with the birthday girl.

Here Annabelle is opening the first gift she has ever unwrapped herself . . .




I think she is starting to "get it".

Throwing Away the Alarm Clock

by Charles Bukowski

my father always said, "early to bed and
early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise."

it was lights out at 8 p.m. in our house
and we were up at dawn to the smell of
coffee, frying bacon and scrambled
eggs.

my father followed this general routine
for a lifetime and died young, broke,
and, I think, not too
wise.

taking note, I rejected his advice and it
became, for me, late to bed and late
to rise.

now, I'm not saying that I've conquered
the world but I've avoided
numberless early traffic jams, bypassed some
common pitfalls
and have met some strange, wonderful
people

one of whom
was
myself—someone my father
never
knew.

Five Guys

The first time I heard about 5-Guys was when Obama went there:



So when I saw that Liberty Station in Point Loma had a 5-Guys, I took notice.

I haven't been there yet and of course I just joined a gym and I am trying to lose 40 pounds or so but then I saw THIS.

Great Googly Moogly that looks good.

RANDOM Acts of Kindness

So I am at the grocery store with the wee one the other day and as I grab my purchases and head for the door, one of the clerks, seeing the wee-one, stops me and says "Here" and hands me this . . .


Wha?

I have nothing against Chanukah, of course, but Christmas seems to be the predominate winter holiday around these parts. Oh, and it's JULY.

Let's open up our summer grocery-store Chanukah dreadle and see what's inside, shall we?


Exactly which one of these choking hazards should I give my little tokhter first?

I did open up the bag of spicy bbq corn sticks just to give them a try.

Stale.

A Day in the Park w/ Auntie Critters

I Wish I Was as Funny as This Guy

This is Good but I can't Explain Why . . .

Half-Rack at the Rendezvouz

by William Notter

She had a truck, red hair,
and freckled knees and took me all the way
to Memphis after work for barbecue.
We moaned and grunted over plates of ribs
and sweet iced tea, even in a room of strangers,
gnawing the hickory char, the slow
smoked meat peeling off the bones,
and finally the bones. We slurped
grease and dry-rub spice from our fingers,
then finished with blackberry cobbler
that stained her lips and tongue.

All the trees were throwing fireworks
of blossom, the air was thick
with pollen and the brand-new smell of leaves.
We drove back roads in the watermelon dusk,
then tangled around each other, delirious
as honeybees working wisteria.
I could blame it all on cinnamon hair,
or the sap rising, the overflow of spring,
but it was those ribs that started everything.

Quote of the Day

"It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball. I did it in one afternoon on the golf course."

- Hank Aaron

81-Year-Old Sweethearts