Chasseur.....

..... I spent the better half of the afternoon locked in mortal combat with a obstinate weed-eater, ten fire ant mounds, and a ditch-line of unruly weeds....... and how'd your sweltering, steamy, sticky Sunday go?..... hmmm?.....

... it's all good though..... and actually it's time for a long, cool shower and a gin & tonic...... with a nice chicken a la chasseur baking in the oven.......

.... after all, one cannot spend the entirety of a day dressed as Che Guevara (except armed with a weed-whacker instead of an old Soviet rifle.), without sitting back, taking stock, and enjoying the spoils of your labor afterwards, yes?....

.... anyway, speaking of dinner, Wikipedia says that the dish I'm preparing tonight was present on the menu during the first run of the original Orient Express back in October of 1882.....

..... who says we ain't kultcha'd around here?......

Photos.....

..... I have labored, you know?....... figuratively & literally....... six thousand photographs, trips to foreign climes, backyard mosquito swatting, and what to post?....... very, very little that is not (on one level or another) more than just a little bit belittling.....

..... good lord, here's an example...... I awoke the Missus yesterday morning and she immediately retired to the deck with a book in hand to await the arrival of her bacon and eggs..... and halfway through the cooking, there came a frantic series of pecks upon the full-length glass of the back door...... so, as you do, I laid my spatula aside and set off to investigate...... and indeed, it seemed that she had something to show me......

..... and after a few minutes of pointing, eeew'ing, squinting, and squatting on the deck like Johnny Bench, I finally saw it....

..... a large, hideous, hunter spider had a daddy longlegs by the forehead and was slowly sucking his brains out.... hell, I was traumatized........ the stout little one holding fast over the large spindly one whose legs were doing that wavy "come hither" thing that Vincent Price used to do in movies sometimes when he was luring some hot, scantily clad B-movie starlet towards a place she'd ought not to go ...... it was mesmerizing....... the little one - with its fangs buried deep - adjusted them every so often..... pumping the left, then the right.... then the left again...... all while the frail, dainty legs of its victim clawed and scraped at the empty air....... running away in slow motion - but getting nowhere fast..... soooooo, yeah.... life and death while the bacon sizzled and the eggs bubbled........

.... I mean, just imagine my level of startilization at having been faced with such a sight as that?......

.... and good god, people..... startilization isn't even a word!....... but it sure as hell FELT right to write it.........

.... anyway, here are three still shots (and one action shot!) of Scotland's National Sport...... what?.... y'all didn't think that I would actually be taking photos of tourist attractions, pretty scenery, or famous buildings, did you?....

.... a fine pint of 80 shilling beer in the bar of The Kildrummy Castle Hotel...

.... a fine pint of John Smith's Bitters at the bar of The World's Smallest Hilton in Ballater..

.... a gentle Speyside single malt in its native environment...... de-corked, of course...

.... an anxious group of fine, fine gentleman.... upstanding, all.....

...... hey, a boy has got to stay hydrated, no?..... especially when on vacation!.....

Cartoons.....

.... you know, it's been a long, long day here at The Compound...... the flowers are blooming, the birds have been chirping....... but some weird shit has been going down.........

.... but, with all else that could or should be said tonight?...... I am - after having spent the past two hours watching re-runs of "Family Guy", left with this as an example of just why everything is so very, very wrong these days.....

..... for those of you out there in the audience who may be lactating at this time, I sincerely apologize.......

..... and as for the other scenes that panned out tonight?........ let me just say that I never want to see ANY of the Griffins naked EVER again.......... EVER.......

.... not even Lois........

Tired....

.... good evening, boys and girls...... I hope that you are all well and fit, happy & well-fed..... as for me, I have had what most people call A Very Bad Day...... so I am off to toss in a Mr. Waits album and pour myself a large Scotch & water, put my feet up, and let the evening wash over me until bedtime.....

...... sing along if you wish...... sorry about the 'Sin City' stuff, but it was the first version of his song that I found.......

...... after all, tomorrow is another day........ time to write this one off, folks.......

Root Beer......

.... conversation today turned slightly odd as The Missus and I headed towards the movie theatre for the Sunday matinee.....

.... we'd been running a bit behind, so I pit-stopped at the Wendy's in Athens just before climbing up onto I-75 to allow for her to procure a cheeseburger.... (I had already breakfasted late courtesy of the Hardee's in Etowah.... so I wasn't yet ready for lunch.)....

... in the course of events, I ordered a drink only..... a Barq's root beer..... and this is where things began to get odd.....

.... normally I shy away from fizzy drinks..... but today, for reasons known only to Great Jeebus himself, I ordered a root beer.....

.... it didn't completely agree with me.... and I ended up burping all the way to the theatre.... but it did bring up two curious words during the drive.... Sarsaparilla and Sassafras..... I mean, honestly, how often do those two words come up in conversation?....

.... so we paused our conversation while we sat through the movie..... and then began again once we'd dropped the top on Sylvia and started the drive back home........

...... the end result?....... that scene in 'Little Big Man' where he is reminiscing about the elephant head spigot that dispensed sarsaparillas......

.... unfortunately, I was unable to find that particular scene on youtube this evening....... but I DID find this little tidbit that just absolutely cheers my soul........ sure, it has nothing to do with spigots, per se, but one does have an imagination..... so the word of the evening, gentle hammerheads, is sassafras........ behold....

...... I swear..... that is one helluva movie........

Meats......

..... you know, in great and giant scheme of things, there are only certain things which actually matter.... which things those things are, of course, is a matter for great and eternal debate......

.... but in that vein, I take as a 'for instance' a conversation that I had the other day with my Missus while she was contemplating venturing outside to stroke her favorite cat - Fred.....

.... to the best of my knowledge & remembrance, the conversation flowed very much like this......

"awwwww.... I need to go and pat Fred!"
..... "no, actually, I fed him a can of tuna on the back porch this morning.... he is just fine, I assure you.... finish your broccoli..."
"nooooooooo, he needs me.... just look at how he sits and stares in that window on the kitchen door!..... he wants his mommy!"
....... "no.... he is sitting there because I just cooked a bunch of ham for you and he can smell it....... that is all..." ....
"nooooooo, little Fred loves me!...... he wants more of this morning's leftover bacon, I bet!! .... or maybe some of my ham!!"
..... ".... didn't I just say that?..... he doesn't want YOU.... he wants BACON.... he can SMELL it.... he is an ANIMAL..."
"awwww, he is so CUTE!..... yes, (pecking on the glass) yes, you ARE!...... you want some BACON, Fred?.... you want some HAM!?"
..... "you know, this is quite tedious, but I just have to say it...."
"what?"
..... "cats are the most mercenary of the pet species..... I mean, of the 'normal' pet species....... ".....
"what do you mean?"
..... "you see that animal out there?...... you feed him, pet him, empty his damnable litter box, and do you truly know why he loves you?"......
"he loves me because I love HIM."
...... "no, he does NOT...... he only loves you because YOU are made out of MEAT...... and in the end, his orgasmic pipedream is that you die in a heap one frosty morning while feeding him leftover bacon so that he can slowly and steadily gnaw on your carcass for days and days and days........your cat only loves you because you are made of MEAT.... and cats want meat MUCH more than they want a clean litter box or someone to occasionally stroke their necks....."
"You are so mean."
..... "no, not really..... hey, happy Valentine's Day..... did you like your card?"...

..... is it a good thing to burst someone's bubble like that?....... to focus them on the realities of life?...... that whole life, death, (lunch), and The Grave kinda thing?......

.... or is it more important to recline back and let your ears feast upon the sumptuous, liquefied, golden purring that comes from some domesticated beast absolutely and completely immersing itself in expressing pleasure?.......

..... the jury is still out here, obviously, but I am certainly leaning towards the side of the beast..... hell, I'd hate to imagine waking up to finding The Missus as a night-torn carcass that the lionesses had just finished with...... all in the name of "give Fred another kitty treat, I think he deserves it!"......

Helen.....

…. We’re off in the morning towards Helen, Ga…. and morning can’t get here soon enough…..

…. But for your enjoyment, I found this little clip on youtube…. And let me tell you….. it is just one of the MANY reasons to come to blogtoberfest…… trust me….

… that and the sauerkraut…. Oh, and the beer…… and the interesting folks who carry blogs that you’ll meet there…..

Razing....

…. As many of you may know, one of my most favoritest things to do while drinking beer and schlepping through the Ardennes (and the rest of Europe) is to find ancient castles and storm them in a fit of mock-bezerker rage and then claim them for the Great State of Tennessee….. it’s quite fun, let me tell ya….. and to date, I have successfully stormed about fifteen castles, towers, monasteries, and other minor fortifications throughout Holland, England, Scotland, Belgium, France, Germany, and Luxemburg…. many while armed with only a rolled-up newspaper & a fierce grimace, I might add….. but hey, I am a conqueror at heart….. and you’d be surprised just how well a heavy slap from a copy of the Times of London works in subduing a bookish, be-spectacled castle tour guide….

… anyhoo, in my most recent expedition, I managed to capture the fortress of one Godfrey de Bouillon…. Some of you may recognize the name there, of course, as he was eminently involved in the First Crusade and later became the first “king” of Jerusalem… or “defender of The Holy Sepulcher” if you’d rather… either way, despite his fame & legend, I had very little trouble wresting his mountain-top castle away from his dilapidated minions and making it my own….

… of course, the way was made a wee bit easier by the fact that he died in Jerusalem in 1100, but that is not really the point….. hey, a castle is a castle….. and they’re made for stormin’….

…. This trip I even managed to convince my dear ole Father-in-Law to assist me during two particularly daring day-time assaults…. Indeed, there was even a ‘war correspondent’ there to document our bravery….. see?...

.. oh yeah, we kicked ass…. That was he and I boldly rushing the gates of the monastery in Clervaux, Luxemburg…. here’s a better shot of it……

…. those trappist-addled meditating monks never stood a chance, people…… I even shot a few German tourists in the chest with my finger-gun just for good measure and to instill that extra little-bit of fear that you need to conjure when taking a walled city by force…..

… but the true jewel in the day’s crown was the assault on ole Godfrey’s pad……

… here’s a shot of my Father-in-Law and I about to clasp each other in celebration of our victory like real men….. Godfrey's castle was ours!...

.... trust me, folks... my life would kill most people.....

Elegant....

... morning in Clervaux….

… coffee, white sugar, dark sugar, fresh spring water, double cream, chocolate covered peanuts, raisins, & almonds…. and a silver spoon…..

… not a bad way to begin a morning, if you ask me……

Belgium...

Good morning, rubberneckers...It's your old Uncle Elisson here, filling in for Eric while he fills his gullet with 800 different varieties of Belgian beer...mercy...I hope the Belgians have laid in some stores, for it will be a long siege...and both Eric and the lovely Fiona have been known to bend the elbow on occasion...

The Belgians are quite an interesting lot, consisting of both Flemings and Walloons...they know how to do up a mess of mussels quite nicely, thank you...and there is something to be said for a country that has a chocolate shoppe on nigh every street-corner...

The beer - did I mention the beer? - is of an extraordinary quality and variety...nondescript lagers like Stella Artois...lambic-style ales fermented with wild strains of yeast...Trappist ales possessed of amazing flavor and alcoholic strength...I do hope Eric's liver is prepared for the onslaught...

...one of the unique products to be had in this little country is the fruit lambic, in which macerated fruit is added to a lambic for a secondary fermentation step...cherries (the famous Kriek Lambic)...raspberries (framboise)...peaches (pêche)...black currants (cassis)...don't be fooled, rubberneckers...these are manly drinks despite their fruit content...nothing quite sets off a fiery dish of Hunan Beef quite like a cool, astringent Kriek Lambic...it is also perfect for washing down the local specialities...

Carbonnade Flamande, that's the ticket...hearty hunks of beef, stewed in the local beer...

...I foresee an extended session with Helga upon Eric's happy return...

Grumpy....

…. A few days ago while wandering around in a soft, velvety haze courtesy of Indian cuisine and a few Newcastle Browns, I happened to find that I had mysteriously arrived at a bookstore….

… I ventured inside and milled around for nearly half of an hour… nothing really caught my fancy, honestly…. I even hit the poetry section in a fit of desperation and was still let down…. my goodness, people, what is this wonderful world of ours coming to?... I searched the (albeit meager) selection of poetry and there was not a single tome by Robert W. Service, Ogden Nash, or Sassoon!... and taking up their rightful place on the shelves of a fine store servicing a college town?.... Henry friggin’ Rollins and Walt fuggin’ Whitman….

…. I swear, folks… the further I venture from my compound here, the more depressed I get….

… all was not lost that evening though, and I finally found a copy of Fodor’s “Guide to Belgium”…. And as I think it quite rude to venture into a selling-establishment, hang around looking interesting for nearly an hour, and leave hundreds of greasy thumbprints on a wide selection of their merchandise without actually intending on buying something, I escorted the little gem up to the cash register and made my purchase….

… since I’ll be in Belgium shortly on holiday, I figured it was an excellent choice of reading material….

…. And I am very, very happy to report that I now know where I’ll be dining on the evening of the 15th of September….. Taverne Falstaff in Brussels…. Here’s what the handy little guidebook has to say about it…

Students, pensioners, and everyone in-between flock to this century-old huge tavern with an Art Nouveua terrace and legendarily grumpy waiters.

… legendarily grumpy waiters….. good god, people, I can hardly wait….. and here I've been hearing people say that Belgium was boring!....

Handcuffs.....

….. today’s Quote of the Day comes from this absolutely wonderful YouTube clip…. brace yourselves, rubberneckers, and behold…

… “Damn. They itch.”

… indeed, indeed…. One can only imagine…. I have to admit though, that's some serious leg action Mr. "Bleep" has got goin' on...

… the really funny thing?.... I’m pretty sure that he’s been to at least one blogmeet….. probably two....

h/t to reader "B"

Losing.....

….. ever have one of those days where – no matter what you do – you just can't win?.... a day where your heroic straining against epic forces is all to no avail?..... no?.... well, let me just tell you now, friends, they suck…..

… the other night my friend (The Guy That Is In The Witness Protection Program) soundly beat me at five games of 8-ball in a row…. And by the end of the night, he was getting pretty damn cocky about it, too…. so for your evening’s enjoyment, here’s a clip of the final time he stuck the allegorical knife in…

Me: …. You want to film this last little bit?
Cameraman: … urgle… *nodding head*
Me: …. Well, let me turn the soundtrack up…..
… *crack*….. *plop*…..
TGTIITWPP: …. Awww…. I really hate’n that fuckin’ happens…..

….. as for the camera going out of focus, I have no excuse…. Much like me not having any excuse for getting my tail thrashed on my own table all evening….. but in my defense, I was not the cameraman that day…. for those of you who don’t know, that’s me standing by the window in the white shirt….

…. Oh, and extra bonus points for identifying the song that I turned up…. Mark?... hey, I know you’re good at this stuff…..

… and with that, I’m off, children… y’all have a good night….

Success....

….. well, since I know that you gentle readers are absolutely riveted to hear about my battle with the pastry, I guess that I should fill y’all in….

…. First, I loaded up a big pot with some olive oil, chopped garlic, and a whole diced onion… once that was simmering nicely in the pot, I diced up two sirloins and rolled them in flour, salt, and pepper…. Once coated, I tossed them in the pot and seared the livin’ Hades out of them until they were nice and brown…. Next, I added two cups of cheap red wine & two cups of beef broth and simmered the concoction for two hours…..

… after two hours, I added a cup of water (as the gravy was getting a bit too thick)…. I also added a packet of Lipton’s “Beef Stew” mix…..

…. Simmered it for two more hours….

…. It was a’smelling pretty awesome, but I gotten a bit bored with all of the stirring, smelling, and watching, so I tossed in about two cups of chopped mushrooms and a few handfuls of diced carrots just to break the monotony….. and then simmered it for two more hours (until the poor carrots were tender)…

…. So, six hours into the fun & games, and the diced sirloin finally gave up and was beautifully tender…. the gravy was thick, brown, and damned tasty, too…..

… I then decanted the whole mess into a casserole dish and began draping slices of filo pastry – buttering them as I went….. all in all, fifteen layers looked about right, so I stopped and placed the experiment in the oven @ 350 for twenty minutes (until the top of the pastry was browning)….

… behold, gentle rubberneckers!.... my homemade Scottish Steak Pie!....

… it was a definite hit with The Missus….. sure, it was a bit of a pain to have to spend so much time, but it was worth it in the end….

… I served it with freshly baked steak-fries & a refreshing glass of milk (it does a body good)……

… so now, if you will excuse me, I’m off to go sweat with the oldies & the college students at the YMCA……

Pies....

…. The Missus was up unusually early today on her day off, and we managed to fit in lunch & a trip to the YMCA well before noon.... we finished the Pilgrimage to Altar of Healthiness by stopping by the local foodmart afterwards and loading up for tonight’s din din…

… and as of right now (4pm EST), I am happy to report that I am very, very pleased with the progress of my aforementioned Scottish Steak Pie…. And for you doubters out there, hey, by 7pm, I am going to be totally kicking some filo pastry-ass….. trust me….

… and no, I am not using a recipe…. As a matter of fact, I just walked by, tasted the meat & gravy, and then tossed in a shitload of mushrooms simply because it was required…. that is the way that cooking is meant to be done, friends….. by using the tongue and not a scrap of paper….. now, hey, I know that is a pretty broad statement – and I will concede that there are times when a meticulous attention to detail needs to be used – but when cooking for the sheer FUN of it, it is always better to play off the cuff…… after all, I have Domino’s pizza on speed-dial… and if the meal is disgusting, I can always have a three-cheese large in my happy little hands in twenty minutes or less… and I’ve been known to chuck a day’s work into the garbage disposal before, and I definitely have not problems doing it again in the future…..

… but yes, back to the beef….. thus far?... I am quite happy…. And the pastry is nearly thawed…… and yes, photographic evidence will be produced tomorrow…. Either of one kick-ass steak pie…. Or of one freshly-delivered pizza……

Mysterious....

…. tonight, the warm, dark air will find me hunched over my gas grill slowly flipping exquisitely sauce-slathered pork ribs….and the sweet, vinegary smell of my special-mix Carolina mustard sauce will waft gently across the countryside triggering involuntary spasms from every man, woman, & beast’s salivary glands….

…. Indeed, I reckon that if a wandering coyote caught a whiff from a mile away, he’d be dead from dehydration before he could make the jog to my grill…. Yes, he’d just be slobbering THAT much in anticipation….

…. It is as my dear Cousin Brad once proclaimed about my rib’s sauce…. “they’re so good that if you placed one on top of your head, your tongue would beat your brains out trying to get to it..” ….

….his words, not mine, gentle reader…… of course, he might have just been trying to make me feel better… build me up, you know?.... but still, I do grill a mean rib…..

… my Sainted Mother and my Brother will be arriving for the grubfest, and I’m stoked…. She’s bringing devilled eggs and corn on the cob….

… by the way, in the course of stowing 6lbs of boneless pork ribs in the refrigerator yesterday, I had to do some quick cleaning to make enough space….and as I was fumbling around in the fridge, I noticed a bottle of “Marie Sharp’s Habanero Pepper Sauce”…. And the bottle says that it was made in Belize…. a mystery, indeed….. but knowing me, I would never have bought such a hot sauce…. so that means that someone actually brought it to my house… so, give it up, hammerheads…. Confess!....

… I didn’t throw it away since it obviously isn’t mine….. but hey, who felt the burning desire to bring condiments to my house?... and a condiment that I’ll never use in a million years on top of that!?

Famous....

…. I don’t know about you guys, but I think that we definitely need to get Anthony Bourdain drunk on Chatham Artillery Punch down by the Chattahoochee at this October’s Jawja Blogfest…..

… sure, we might not end up on the Discovery channel, but it’d make for one incredible adventure…..

… so go ahead y’all… someone make The Call…..

... who knows, they might even send in Bear Grylls to see if he can handle hanging with us for three days without gnawing one of his legs off to escape......

... I hear that Chatham Artillery Punch has medicinal qualities, though... so if he does gnaw himself a'loose, he can at least cleanse the wound by dipping it in the punch for a few seconds.... it might be brutal, but it would sure beat the hell out of wrapping a piss-stained tee-shirt around your head in the middle of the Utah desert..... I'm just sayin'....

... hey, stranger things have happened......

Canopy....

…. Yesterday was a “hammock day” here…. one of those rare days where the temperature in the shade hovered between slow-bake and “comfortable”….

…. The area where the hammock sits is umbrellaed by a double layer of forest canopy…. dogwoods down low – from the 15-30 foot range…. and three mighty poplars – straight and limbless for probably 60 feet, they branch out high and stretch upwards to nearly 100 feet….

… the sunlight that eventually falls is diluted just enough to completely civilize the act of hammock-laying – even on the warmest of summer days.. allowing the hammocker to swing with just the faintest hint of perspiration….

…. a slight breeze helps, as well, of course…. and add in a tall, iced glass filled with a little gin and a splash of tonic, and even the occasional adventurous mosquito becomes that little-bit less irritating….

… word, rubberneckers...... sloth is a sin which must be approached with an open heart, a contented mind, and at least one alcoholic beverage…..

Riverfront...

…. a million families, their grandmother, and their grandmother’s little yappy dog were in Chattanooga yesterday milling around in various queues waiting to see the penguins…. at least it seemed that way….

…. Stalwarts that we are, however, we managed to bump up our perseverance to a record-breaking level and stiff-upper-lip-it through…. And hey, the penguins were kinda cute…. In a smelly, fishy kinda way…

…. The high point in watching them - as they dipped and glided through the water – was when one of the blonde-haired youngsters up in front witnessed one of the penguins do a #2 whilst submerged inches from the glass…

… the black and white bird hesitated for only a moment… and then sprayed a sandy, milky substance from its backside…. The underwater current immediately caught it and began distributing it towards the floor…. A attentive Momma who was holding her 2-year old daughter gasped audibly…. I laughed… and the little blonde-haired boy clapped his hands excitedly and screeched, “look Mommy!... that penguin made SNOW!”…

… ahhhh, blissful innocence…. that amazing world where Mother is never more than two steps away, she always has treats & wet-wipes in her purse, and penguins fart snow……

… after spending some time with the flightless birds, we explored a few pubs down by the riverfront… it was misting with a slow, warm rain, so we sought shelter in a tiny pub on Broad Street…..there, with The Missus still glowing from memories of frolicking penguins, we settled in with a few pints of Newcastle and watched South Africa blow a 14-0 early lead to Australia’s Wallabies…. Eventually losing 25-17….

… all in all, it was an enjoyable day…. oh, and I mentioned that a Springbok rugby jersey would be the perfect birthday present for me…. I don’t think that she was listening though….. I suspect I’ll get undershirts from Banana Republic again….. but hey, that'll be cool too....

Speyburn.....

….. well, I’m just back from another lightning raid on the city of Knoxville…. The old place never knew what hit it… I zipped in, grabbed all the loot I was after, and was half-way back to Sylvia before the dinging of the cash registers faded…..

… among a few of my more interesting purchases was a monstrously large bottle of exceedingly cheap single malt Scotch…. Hey, it might not be any good (and I will be sure to let y’all know one way or the other.. ), but the way I looked at it, hell, I’d have given 20 bucks just for the bottle even if it’d been empty….. Speyburn, it is called…. And the bottle?.... it’s a 1.75 liter behemoth, friends….. I mean, just check this bad boy out…..

….. oh, and I also finally managed to track down the cologne that The Missus likes for me to wear….. good God Almighty! …. I had no idea that it was so damn thin on the ground here in the rustic, scenic, provincial backwater that I live in…. but after hitting every shop in Chattanooga and coming up with nothing, I finally managed to track it down in the Giganto-Dillards that they have up in Knoxville….

…. So after suffering through the ordeal of smelling like soap and shampoo for the past month, I am now happy to report that I am right back to smelling the God always intended for me to smell…. sell, that’s what The Missus is forever saying, and she’s always right.….

…. Now that I’m smelling good, I suppose that I should break into that bottle of Speyburn and see if I can find a piece of patio furniture to hold down…… after all, after having spent the last few evenings creating toe-curlingly good meals in the compound’s kitchen, I’ve been let off the hook this evening….. indeed, after evening meals consisting of fillet steak & roasted potatoes, pot roast, and grilled ribs & baked beans, tonight’s gnoshfest has been requested – Gorton’s fish sticks and Heinz beans left plain……. Not exactly my idea of a good time, no, but it certainly breaks the latest trend of spending hours working on a meal…..

… actually, I’m pretty sure that it’ll still be yummy… just on a different level….

....You gotta feed your inner-child once in a while, I reckon…..

Nary a Peep

from Eric in his booze laden trip to Scotland. Fair Scotland, home of Scott's Tissues. Place of the great distilleries of Cutty Sark, Chivas Regal, Sit Chivas, Cutty Shark, and Glenliver. He must indeed be lost while munching on the hedgerows, or bushes. Never giving a thought to those that maintain this august body of work. Or piece of work. For this, I expect a Haggis-on-a-Stick franchise at least.

Flooding....

…I rolled out of bed early this morning and found my way into town…. I breakfasted at a small, Mom & Pop type joint and carried home a huge Styrofoam box of gravy, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and sausage for The Missus…..

… she was incredibly pleased…..

… her love of bacon is so complete and abiding that it really should be under the study of a team of neurologists & biochemical engineers…. I’m quite sure that they could – given sufficient time, funding, and an infinite supply pork bellies – probably find a cure for a shitload of diseases just by tapping into her noggin as the endorphins flood it…..

…. it is an amazing thing to watch, trust me…. and hell, I don’t even have any equipment…

…. she tells me that I have a very similar reaction when given a bottle of Glenmorangie….

… anyhoo, I’m off to enjoy the cloudiness of today and attempt to prune the magnolia… it certainly needs it..... and it is an excellent excuse for bagging on hitting the gym today....

Nachos....

…. Well, we’re all back safe and sound….. Nashville was, as per usual, a total blast…. Tootsie’s had an incredible band playing – as did the Stage on Broadway and many other places…. and we enjoyed chilling to “Def Leprechaun” playing at Mulligan’s down on 2nd Ave…..

… it was a cold, drunken walk back up the hill to The Sheridan though, but I suffered through it…. and, as most god-fearin’ men do, I rose early and toured the grounds of the state capitol in the crisp morning air while everyone else slept off their over-imbibing from The Night Before…..

… a word of warning to those reckless ones among you, though…. steer clear of the pulled-pork nachos that they serve at B.B. King’s place…. While they are extremely yummy going down, you’ll pay for them come the next day… two or three times….. and hey, I was blessed with the constitution of a rutting rhino and they still worked my innards like a hillbilly on a banjo…..

…. So take it from me, y’all, you’ve officially been warned…..

.. anywhoo, tomorrow and Tuesday are down-days for our merry band of miscreants, so there might (perhaps) be more content here…. then again, I wouldn’t exactly hold my breath on that if I were you guys….. the Brother in Law has expressed a deep-seated desire to fire my black guns again, so one of those evenings that’ll be taking place……

… you know, whoever said that firearms aren’t fun just didn’t have the right teacher, boys and girls….. it’s all in the wrist, I’ve heard it said…. Or perhaps, it’s all in picking the right kind of targets to blast….. I forget… either way, we’ll be photo-documenting the bursting of some balloons very soon at a website near you…..

Bushed....

... well, I'm back.... and I am bone-tired..... I ate enormous amounts of wonderful food, drank my weight in adult beverages, and just generally had one big, ole whale-of-a-time..... but yes, I know that I promised y'all some photos...... here goes...

... this is the Brother in Law kicking back in the observatory reading about Lewis and Clark after breakfast....

... here's a shot of the western slopes of the mountains from up near the North Carolina line as I looked back down towards the Tennessee Valley..... pretty, no?.. hey, it's home.....

... and hey, did y'all see this?.... shameful stuff... see, when I am left to my own devices, I am actually quite a shy creature.... as is shown in this typical photograph of me pondering deeply the Questions of The Universe and The Great Mystery of It All....

... whew... I'm worn out.... more photos of the actual lodge tomorrow...... it was incredible... I cannot recommend it highly enough....

... so goodnight, y'all.... be careful... play nice.... and remember to take your vitamins......

East...

…. good morning, rubberneckers….. I hope that this fine morning finds you all well and quivering in anticipation of another beautiful day….

…. the Sun is peeking across Starr’s Mountain here and the coffee is hot and strong…. soon the temperature will rise to convertible-range, and my small party of adventurers and I will drop the top and head eastwards into the mountains…. Destination: Santeetlah, North Carolina, and an exquisite lodge tucked away in the Appalachians about 50 miles directly towards this morning's rising Sun….

… what were the words that famous fellow once used?.... “go East, young man…. go East?… “… something along those lines, I believe… my memories of those childhood history classes fail me at times…..

… and I know that you gentle souls will find it hard to fathom, but the next two days promise to be filled with a form of luxury that is seldom enjoyed even around my lair…. Sure, sure, I do alright…. and my home is as comfortable as can be allowed without breaking the state’s various narcotics laws, but where I am headed this afternoon takes countrified-poshness to a whole new level….

… I’m torn though as to what my wardrobe should entail…. On the one hand, I am leaning towards my moleskin trousers and a nice, crisply starched button-down shirt…. And on the other, perhaps I should go all Rajah on the Carolinians and bedeck myself in the easy folds of my white silk Punjabi…. mercy, folks… decisions, decisions…. being a Libra does truly suck sometimes…..

.. one thing, though, is a certainty…. I shall spirit away a fine bottle of cask strength, 16-year old Bowmore into my cherry-paneled apartment, and sip upon it once my bar tab grows to frightening proportions……after all, my Scotch collection rivals even that of the lodge where we’ll be staying…..

…. and don’t you guys & gals worry… my promise of photographs still holds….. Tuesday evening, friends… I’ll post photos Tuesday evening…. you have my word…. always remember that no matter what, y’all can trust Uncle Eric….. it’s what I’m here for…..

Snowbird....

…. I drove The Missus and her Brother across the Cherahala Skyway yesterday afternoon, and boys and girls, it was amazing….. our high point was 5,235 feet and the views were incredible….. we snapped quite a few photos of the journey and I will post them later tonight… so for now, y’all will just have to take my word for it…. the eastern slope of the Appalachians was a sight to see….

… after 45 or so miles, we dropped down into the hamlet of Robbinsville, NC and stopped at The Snowbird Mountain Lodge for an adult beverage…. We decided right then and there that we’re heading back to the Snowbird to spend the night on Monday…. Hey, any bar that can claim to have a 150 year old Grand Marnier is definitely a place where I would feel at home…..

… as for right now, I’m off in search of lunch for myself and The Brother in Law…. I will be back later with photos of yesterday’s trip…. so watch this space….

Dubya....

…. I caught a glimpse of our beloved leader this afternoon down in Chattanooga….. he’d just finished having a vigorous lunch at Porker’s BBQ…. no, really…. See, he’d delivered a speech on his new Healthcare ideas earlier, and he probably must have felt a bit famished… so, as you do, he nipped on in for some good ole Tennessee pulled-pork…

… my goodness, rubberneckers… how fantastic is that?…. Healthcare and BBQ on the same trip…. you’ve just got to love that…. hell, if I were the President, I’d have BBQ and macaroni and cheese at least once every day…. and garlic & cheese biscuits….. and a few nice tumblers of single malt to take the edge off of those late-nite international homeboy-freakout calls….

... Anywhoo, here are a few snaps that we took today as we tried to make our way past all the security…

..... here's GW waving in my general direction as he walks towards his custom Caddy.....

.. and here is a Officer of the Law who didn't really give us the warm & fuzzies about having his photograph taken while he was busy guarding the Prez.....

… boys and girls, it took us FOREVER to get to the bar in the Easy Seafood Company….. but still, the photos turned out pretty good, no?.... and the seafood sampler platter was well worth the wait….. and hey, I got to see the President of the United States..... all in all, a pretty groovy day....

Roses....

…. many of you heathens who visit this humble blog enjoy spending a few quality hours a week with a corked bottle… and we here at The Compound are deliriously content with that….hey, a bit of tipple in the evenings can be a wonderful end to a lovely day..

… and as such, my liquor cabinet is stocked fairly well… indeed, I tend to pride myself on being able to produce just about any mixed drink that a guest of mine might require… from the noble, trustworthy Gin and Tonic to the mythic Singapore Sling….

… when it comes to bourbon, I normally only have a single bottle of fairly nice stuff….. and I tend to lean heavily on the owners of the local liquor store in regards to what is “fairly nice stuff” as I hardly ever drink bourbon… but still, I try to always remain semper paratus when it comes to my guest’s comfort & enjoyment…..

… Scotch, on the other hand, is to be found in great abundance at my home…. at the moment, for instance, I have eight different malts and three blends in various stages of drinkage…..

… in short, we loves our spirits around these parts…. And THAT is why I must tell you about my latest discovery…..

… see, while I offer a variety of whiskies, I always leaned towards simpler measures when it came to the less subtle liquors; vodka, gin, and tequila… for me, three liquors = three bottles of booze…. Grey Goose vodka, Bombay Sapphire gin, and Patron tequila…. Simple…. but not any longer….

…. I have recently discovered a new gin that is a must for any mixologist’s treasure chest…. Hendrick’s Gin…. It is, by far, the most unusual gin that I have ever had the pleasure to pour…

…. I’m not going to attempt to write a review since my speech and verbiage is not nearly as flowery as the gin’s flavor… instead, I am simply going to say that you should try it…. it’s not for everyone, of course, and it says so on the bottle with the declaration of “preferred by 1 in 1000 gin-drinkers”… but for the sake of pure, unadulterated novelty, you just have to try it…. it’ll build you a gin and tonic like you’ve never tasted before….

... trust me...

Plans....

….. the weatherman told me two things a few minutes ago that have seriously harshed today’s mellow…. first, he says that tonight’s low will be 19 degrees…. which, of course, sucks…. secondly, he says that the Sun shall set at 6:02pm….. and my dinner guests will be arriving at half-past 5….

… normally?... these two random factoids would not bother me in the least…. And were it not for the fact that my evening companions requested me to grill ribs, I would be supercool….. but they did…. unfortunately…..

… so if anyone needs me, I will be in my garage grilling ribs… in the dark…. with a big jacket on…. and possibly some kind of hat…..

…. Indeed, the only real, honest Saving Grace of the whole deal is that some mystery-person replaced the empty bottle of Tito’s Texas Vodka in the shot dispenser with a 10yr Old Glenmorangie last night…. so I shall be grillin’, chillin’, and swillin’ if all goes according to plan…..

Friends.....

…. good God, people, I feel like I’ve been to a blogmeet…..

…. Yesterday a group of my Brother’s childhood friends came to visit…. It was an incredible thing to sit and watch eight 30 year old men morph back into high school seniors over the course of six hours, two large pizzas, and a case of beer, but I witnessed it happen….

… and now?.... everyone has left…. all brave souls are safe and accounted for…. the pool table is covered back up, the balls stowed, and the garage has been swept out… and I am bone-tired…..

… time to nuke a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna, mix up a gin and tonic, and try to regain my senses…..

… I ain’t as young as I once was…. and that, gentle reader, is a stone-cold fact…. but hey, it sure was fun to pretend for a little while…..

Bubbles....

… it is nearly 3:30 in the afternoon and I’m enjoying a glass of champagne…. Why?... well, as wise men once said, ‘waste not, want not’, right?.... besides, the bottle that I uncorked last night survived the initial sippings fairly intact…. and it seemed such a shame to let half a bottle of bubbly get thrown out…. and seeing as I’m a full-blooded Hillbilly, I have no qualms whatsoever about drinking half-day-opened booze…… hey, I never claimed to have THAT much class……

… anyway, I watched the ball drop in Times Square courtesy of NBC last night… and then, as quickly as I could, I popped a cork, took a quick sip or two, finished watching Bruce Willis save the world in “Armageddon”, and then collapsed into bed…

… winter evenings around here are dark, cold, and quiet…. even on New Year’s Eve…. and I was anxious to see what The Sandman had in store for me once I hit dreamland…..

… I wasn’t disappointed either…

… mercy, never underestimate the power of a pleasant dream…. It can change your outlook, focus your sensibilities, scare the crap out of you, and excite you to the point of wetting your pants…. all while you happily snooze under a pile of warm blankets….

.... but I suppose that is their purpose, really…. To allow the mind a free rein to create new worlds and play or relax safely in them…..

….. the first day of a new year, wow…… cool, damp, and overcast here…. but hey, the evening will arrive before we know it… and with it, sleep and rest.… so for those of you who dream – while asleep or awake – I hope that 2007 gives you an opportunity to see at least some of your dreams to come true……

… as for me, this new set of months is going to be quite a ride… many, many new things are on the horizon for me and my family…. and while I’d like to imagine all of the surprises flowing smoothly over us as we live, I know that it will be a rollercoaster instead…. but hey, a rollercoaster is exciting… and it is NEVER boring…..

Football!...

…. Go Vols!... Go Auburn!.... Geaux Tigers!... Go Hawgs!.... Go Gators!.... GO SEC!!....

2lbs....

…. yesterday, just before noon, I fried up a pound of Wampler’s Farm Sausage… mild, of course, and laid it aside on a stack of ultra-mega-maxi-multi-absorbent kitchen towels…… I then took one of those enormous bricks of Velveeta and sliced the entire glob into twenty or thirty fairly large hunks…. this was then microwaved in short, controlled bursts until the Velveeta was suitably melted…

…. I then began a fifteen minute culinary voyage of alternately stirring in spoonfuls of cooked, freshly-drained sausage and nuking and re-nuking….

… once all of the sausage had successfully been assimilated by the melted cheese, I added half a jar of some cheap salsa that I had laying around…..

…. Boys and girls, that was my lunch…. and it was heavenly.....

… I gorged myself on that golden, gooey mixture until the beast within me was satiated…. and then I settled back to watch an evening full of College football……

… by the time that the Gamecock’s whipped Houston, I was beginning to feel the approach of Mr. Hungry again….

….. well, just take a wild guess at what I had for dinner, rubberneckers…. any guesses?.... that’s right, hammerheads, leftover Velveeta-stuff!!!....

… so yesterday?... I drank three pots of coffee…. and I ate 1lb of sausage and 1lb of Velveeta…. and 2 cups of salsa…. and forty or fifty tortilla chips…..

… I cleansed my palate after lunch with a Coca-cola over ice… and again in the evening with a gin and tonic…..

…. I think I should probably start taking some sort of vitamin or supplement.... lest I develop scurvy or rickets or something……

Tonic....

… you know what I really, really need right now?... a 6-foot USB extension cable…. I’m tired of my new webcam only being able to barely see around my monitor with my new desk/chair/workstation set-up…..

… so help out a Fellow Traveler, friends….. hey, I’d do it for y’all, you just know I would….

…. actually, I started a new diet a few days ago by following an old recipe that I had attached to my refrigerator with a Knoxville Zoo magnet years and years ago….. here, check it out….

… pretty much sums up where I’ve been lately, rubberneckers…… Peace on Earth, indeed…..

…. anyway, I leave you gentle people with a few select lines from the very end of Chapter 17 of Douglas Adams’ masterpiece - “Life, The Universe And Everything”…

“….None of these facts, however strange or inexplicable, is as strange or inexplicable as the rules of the game of Brockian Ultra Cricket, as played in the higher dimensions. A full set of rules is so massively complicated that the only time they were all bound together in a single volume they underwent gravitational collapse and became a Black Hole….”

… indeed…. Indeed… y’all think about that for a while and get back to me….

... and by the way, I hope that each and every one of you enjoyed a merry Christmas.... however big or small your collection of friends and family....

Chow....

... you know, I just realized something.....

Grilled pork chops
Diced garlic
Ground black pepper
Steamed broccoli
Grated cheese
Milled corn meal
Boiled sweet corn
Fried yellow squash
Mashed potatoes
Minced onions
Chopped lettuce
and Sautéed mushrooms

… now I need me something to fricassee….. yes sir, I surely do.....

Mushrooms....

…. last night my often-buried adventurous side reared its head and I threw together a recipe from scratch…. these little forays into culinary mayhem are typically hit or miss though… but I am pleased to say that last night’s finger-food was a resounding success…..

…. here’s what I did….

… I de-stemmed ten large mushrooms, washed them, and painted them lightly with olive oil…. then I took five of the stems and chopped them finely... adding to the chopped stems a tablespoon of chopped garlic, I fried the mixture slowly with more olive oil until the stems were soft and the garlic was translucent….

… I then added that slowly-fried goodness to a cup of cream cheese, two table spoons of bleu cheese, a half-cup of parmesan, a teaspoon of ground black pepper, and mixed it all up nicely…. this delightful goo was then spooned into the upturned mushroom caps and the whole shebang was baked at 375 for twenty minutes….

…. good God, people…

… those puppies got delicately nibbled on all evening while the merlot flowed….

… all in all, not a bad way to watch old reruns of ‘Simon and Simon’….

… today, well, I’m off to have lunch at Aubrey’s in Maryville… y’all have fun….

Damp...

…. the Sun is out now and the clouds have cleared a bit…. but the leaves are still too damp to rake… bad luck, I suppose… as they surely do so need a good raking…. and then a good burnin’…. but they'll just have to wait for more favorable conditions.... patience is, after all, a fine virtue...

… so what should I do when labor isn’t possible on a Saturday morning?... why, head to Maryville for beer and pasta at Aubrey's, of course.… and then catch a movie….

… I tell you, it’s hard to have fun in a place like this, but I do endeavor to give it my very best shot….

Failure...

… I was taught to cook by an Italian…. and he gave me only a handful of rules to play by… no measurements… be creative.. and remember that herbs and spices create a deeper and more complex flavor the longer you let them simmer together…

… and for the most part these rules have stood me well.. I have lived these thirty-four years with very, very few complaints ever rising up from the visitors to my dinner table…

… I will admit, though, that I created the most hideously monstrous meatloaf last night that has ever been baked by man or beast… so while some others were off hobnobbing with the sweetened, upper-crust of Atlanta’s finest, I was humbly sitting in my meager home staring down a badly boiled ‘porcupine meatloaf’… and both it AND I ended the evening stewing in our own juices.. rejected and dejected…

… it all started harmlessly enough, I suppose… some television show was on the tube and the Missus overheard “the meatloaf is a distinctly American dish!”… this, of course, prompted her to query as to why I had never made her a steaming plateful of such a ‘distinctly American dish’ in all of our long years of marriage … hey, I thought it was a pretty good question myself…. so I gladly took on the task and began searching the nooks and crannies of the internet to find a suitable recipe….

… I settled on a fine one that included stirring minute rice in with the ground beef and allowing the fat and other mollified liquids to perk the rice to plump perfection… (thus the ‘porcupine’ reference in the recipe… which, I must admit, seems exceedingly strange to me… I mean, what in the Great Livin’ Hell does a porcupine have to do with minute rice?)…

… anyway, I had no minute rice… but I DID happen to have a bag of Mahatma and figured that would do just fine… well, Brothers and Sisters, I was wrong…. Very, very wrong…. and add to this miscalculation that I only read the recipe once (due to my Italian teacher’s rules), and you can see where this trainwreck is headed….

… in a nutshell, well, I added too many diced onions, I didn’t have an egg and used some olive oil instead (for the binding, you know… meatloaf has gotta bind evidently), I added too much ketchup and decided at the last minute to throw in some Heinz 57 sauce as well, and then I made my second-biggest mistake…. I didn’t add enough breadcrumbs….

…. anyway, I mixed all that stuff together, spread it into a casserole dish, and tossed it in the oven at 350 for an hour and fifteen minutes… and as I sat on my couch reclining in contentment at having kicked my first meatloaf’s ass, I was at peace with my gin and tonic….

… indeed, even the normally quiet Missus remarked half-way through the cooking at how glorious my latest achievement smelled…. I nodded in silent acceptance of such well-earned accolades and sipped my drink….

… if we could have eaten “the smell”, we would have been alright… for when the oven was finally opened and the dish removed, the sight was both ghastly and nauseating….

.. the meat – now brown and lumpy – was covered in small volcanic-looking craters… and among the craters were bits of charred onions… and between the fire-curled onions lay the rice…. rice that had not had time to cook… rice that protruded from the burnt, warty surface of the loaf like hundreds of tiny broken bone fragments from some decaying, repeatedly run over by logging trucks, July-in-South-Carolina roadkill…

… yes, it was that bad… here, have a look….

.. did we work up the courage to eat it?.... of course we did…. we are, after all, adventurers at heart… but will I attempt a meatloaf again?... probably not….

… but take it from me, people… if a recipe calls for minute rice… make sure you use minute rice…. Your stomach, your teeth, and your pride will thank you….

Longing...

… my Brother in Law has momentarily ceased his world travels and is back at the familial nest… after quite a number of years away, he has finally made the break from Bangladesh and is now back in bonnie Scotland… just in time for winter, I might add…

… I had occasion to speak with him briefly a few days ago over the telephone, and as you do, we immediately began comparing recipes… both of us being men who know our way around a kitchen….

.. and as our tales escalated while the minutes ticked on, we shared our collective woes… me bringing up my failed curry attempts… and he bemoaning the lack of quality pork in Muslim nations… but it was his last tale that left me speechless…

… see, it seems that no matter how far away you remove a Scot from their native land, the deep desire to eat haggis can never be fully stifled…. I was amazed, but not shocked… I mean, after five years in the US of A, I myself have been forced to scrounge Our Glorious Nation via the interweb for the rich delicacy…. all in the name of satisfying a hungry Wife… and in the end, I found my haggis in New Jersey… for the dear Brother in Law though, he was not so lucky…. so he did what any stranger in a strange land would do when hankering for some haggis…. He made it himself from local ingredients…

… and from the sound of it, it wasn’t half bad… of course, he had to use a goat’s stomach instead of a sheep’s, but he made-do…. And as he was rattling off the ingredients, it sounded rather yummy… ground beef, black pepper, rice (instead of oats ala Scotland), green chili peppers (everything in Bangladesh has chili peppers in it), diced onions, garlic… all stuffed inside a goat’s disemboweled stomach and boiled for a few hours…

… he even remarked that – apart from the copious amounts of fat that he had to floatingly skim off of the boiling tureen – it turned out quite tasty…. and even though it didn’t really please the palate like authentic Scottish haggis, it was just close enough to slake his jones for the homeland…..

… while not really my cup of tea, I can see where he is coming from… the moral of the story?... who knows?… but perhaps it is this… never, ever, EVER underestimate the power of alcohol and homesickness combined…. with enough jars in you (and a powerful enough pine) you’ll find yourself traveling down some weird and stony paths, rubberneckers….

… and that, my dear, dear friends, is The Truth…

Ouch....

... ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.....

... whoa.....

Wax...

... it is a true thing that ˜each day brings forth new challenges'.... and today is no different.... only weirder....

... but for the life of me, I really have no idea how to tackle today's journey....

... so does anyone know how to successfully remove red candle wax from white carpet?....

.... and before you ask, no, it wasn't my fault...

... honest...

Sniffing....

... whilst observing a hummingbird approach, back-off, and re-approach an empty hummingbird-feeder on the front porch this morning, I was gently reminded that I am again falling victim to the craving...

... hello, gentle readers, my name is Eric... and I am hopelessly addicted to Indian food.. and it has been nigh-on three months since I have partaken of the velvety sauces, pungent meat, and buttery, garlicky, cheesy naan bread which I so dearly love....

.... but the ethnic desert in which I reside offers little in the way of slaking my primal longing... sure, sure... I can mix potions and elixirs here at home... chop up some lamb... don my silk Punjabi and mix up a pitcher of 50/50 gin and tonic.... but there is something magical that will be missing... I know if before I even try....

.. for it is not just the meal on a plate that I am yearning for... but the broken English... the lilting, staccato voice and smiling eyes that greet your hungry heart as you gaze up from the cheaply printed menu.... and the hand-polished brass ashtrays on the table... the gaudy, Bengali-embroidered tapestry that drapes the wall behind your booth.. and the twangy sitar music that softly coats everything in a memory of old, black and white photographs of the Taj Mahal at Agra....

... but today I plan to safari northwards with pure and perfect purpose.... see, a little birdie told me that the Knoxville now sports a Restaurant of India.... I nearly swooned when the news entered my delicate ears... but now my soul is buoyed and itching to search the place out... I don't even actually have the directions or an address, but that is of little consequence...

... after all, any Indian restaurant that is worth it's salt can be sniffed out from a five-block radius... and hey, Knoxville isn't that large... so the plan is just to drive around with the top down and let my nose guide the way... bird-doggin' at a whole new level, people... and I am stoked....

... so wish me luck... while I am still fairly full of youthful exuberance and a quiet confidence, I still need all the help I can get...

... and that reminds me... a big Happy Birthday shout-out to my homeboy Elisson... rock on, bigman... you may be closing in on That Ancient Age, but you still have the heart of a twelve year old.. and long may it continue to be so....

Tasmania...

... yesterday as I saintedly attended my grill, I heard a loud, prolonged ˜yelp' echo from the patio area of Hell's Half-acre... a patio that I knew was placidly comforting The Missus - ensconced with reading book and glass of wine...

... and being the dutiful Man of The House and Protector of All Things that I am, I responded by immediately arriving on the scene ready to do battle with whatever beast/bug/varmint/assailant that had accosted The Missus... yea, verily.. backyard shrieks always illicit an armed response in the evenings.. just in case...

.. but I rounded the corner of the house to a startlingly comical scene... Fred the Cat was halfway up one of the dogwood trees and was gazing downward - perfectly transfixed by the antics of The Wife.... the Wife was standing at the base of the tree looking at the ground... in her left hand, an open book and lit cigarette... in her right, a half-full wine glass.... And she appeared to be running in place...

.. it was amazing... almost like one of those cartoons that you see of the Tasmanian Devil - his legs pumping a million times a minute and his torso absolutely still... and yet there she was... feet alternately rising and stomping with an incredible vigor.... while her book, cigarette, and wine glass maintained their perfect stillness....

... as I approached her wigging-out body at top speed, I quickly saw the problem.... The Wife - after 40 blissfully peaceful years on this spinning planet - had finally been introduced to Mr. Fire Ant... and, Ladies and Gentlemen, she was not amused....

... I took her inside and tended to her stings... and all is well now... as a matter of fact, I just checked out her lower legs and feet a few minutes ago... not a single sign that she was ever attacked could be found.. incredible.... Had that been me, I'd look like a damn smallpox victim by now.... complete with weeping ulcers and puss-filled pustules..

... but regardless, those ants are history.... word up, rubberneckers... it does not behoove anyone or anything to piss off a Scot...

... although I still can't understand how she managed to read, smoke, and get stung all at the same time while never spilling a drop of her wine....

Grillin'....

... tonight's schedule of events contains the following enigmatic key words...

... grill, ribeye, gin, tonic, salad, Caesar, potatoes, eggs, Devil'd....

.... oh yeah.... the Garden Fairies visited this morning... and the smell of sizzling flesh will mingle flawlessly with the dazzling aroma of freshly cut grass....

... I can hardly manage to curb my enthusiasm... Hell, I've got sewing-machine leg just thinking about it....

Gravy....

... while the Missus fights off remnants of a nasty chest cold by lounging luxuriantly on the settee, I have been tasked with the creation of a rich, Scottish steak pie - which, I am told, is the ultimate comfort food for a broken and/or ill Montrosian... we shall see, I suppose.... pastry-toppings are not my forte...

... so once again we are off to break new ground... stretching my skills just a bit..

... hey, it's all good... adventure comes in all shapes and sizes... and evidently - sometimes - with gravy and carrots.....

Variations...

.. I've spent the last five hours whipping up an evening meal for the Missus... initially I had offered to boil up a big pot of beef stew for tonight's dinner and she had agreed... but then my imagination got the better of me and I decided to work a variation on the theme...

... so this evening, the vittles will consist of delicately boiled new potatoes... and Beef Bourguignon ... yeah, I know.. I surprised myself too...

... anyway, the mixture is simmering away in the oven now... and should be ready in about three hours... I'll be sure to keep you hammerheads informed as to just exactly how much hedonistic pleasure I gleaned from the whole culinary adventure later tonight....

... as for me, it's time to rest on my laurels and enjoy a cocktail...

... if you gentle, kind readers have enjoyed your Sunday only half as much as I've enjoyed mine up until now, well... you guys are definitely living right....

Pie...

... the Wife has informed me that I am to play chauffer today... that I am to slide Sylvia's top off, exposing her supple, gently curving interior, and direct her towards The Fox and Hound pub in Chattanooga... there, I am told, I may sup upon baked ziti with mountains of cheese... and, with a great boldness of spirit, Newcastle Ale on tap...

.. I tell you the honest truth here - it is a task I shall not shirk.....yea, even though the beastly Sun baketh my redheaded noggin to the temperature of the aforementioned ziti.... and melteth my Maui Jims to my fevered forehead, I shall persevere... it is just the right thing to do...

... it's hard to have fun in a place like this, but I always give it my best shot.. and that, in the end, is all you really can do....

... I think those guys even have Key Lime pie on the menu.... and the promise of pie always makes a hard drive in a convertible a little more bearable...

Meat...

... grilled ribeyes, baked potatoes, and a fresh salad are for dinner tonight... and I am currently knee-deep into a bottle of Jon, Mark and Robbo's "Smokey Peaty One"... it's not bad, neither... quite tasty and yet still easy on the olfactories..

... the only problem with my little scheme is that, even though the eveningtime is here, it is still hotter than the surface of the Sun outside... and manning a grill is going to suck mightily....

... and yes, by the way, thanks for asking... I have managed to talk myself down from my earlier knee-jerk reaction to charities being decidedly uncharitable.... hey, live and let live... that's what I always say....

... in any case, I'm off.... my garage and the soothing melodies of gently frying steak beckon me...

... it is the little things that you must enjoy, after all... and that I can cook a steak AND lose ten pounds due to profuse sweating, well, it's a bonus.... not that I need to lose ten pounds, but still.. I'm just sayin'...

Mother...

... today is my sainted Mother's birthday.. and in celebration of this shining day, we are off to broaden our horizons a wee bit... and being hillbillies, it's not that hard to do.... see, each new encroachment of civilization brings with it new opportunities to stretch our limited cultural references..

... in short, we're off to eat at a new Japanese restaurant... hey, it should be fun... I've heard tell that them Nips juggle your shrimp and steak and stab it with their wakizashis right there at your table... hell, I can hardly wait to see that... I mean, what could be nicer than having a bunch of ninjas serving you dinner?...

... besides, entertainment around these parts is pretty scarce...

.. anyway, I've heard they have sake too... so today is going to be a lot of fun... copping a buzz and watching swordplay over lunch... do I know how to have a good time or what....

Town...

... hot damn, I'm gong goin' going to town...

... no, really....

Tonight....

... it's blurry, sure.... but you can blame the photographer for that..... but here is a shot of me missing a bank of the 8-ball.... a side-pocket miscalculation.... bloody typical, really....

... but still, a great time was had by all..... Gary and Paul were in fine form... me?..... well, you win some and you lose some.... but that is always the case.....

Dancing...

.. informed via email today by my buddy James in Scotland, I am happy to hear that today is the summer solstice... damn, and I don't have a thing to wear...

... I hate it when holidays sneak up on me like this...

.... although I have never celebrated Solstice Day before, this year will be a first... I just have to figure out what I need to do to properly accentuate the day.. perhaps a bonfire and some quasi-religious bugle-blowing.... maybe some naked dancing on the patio?... sloshing wine and padding my little feet on the smooth, flat patio stones with a pagan beat?.... I just don't know.... goodness, I hate being unprepared like this...

... any suggestions would be greatly appreciated....

Dutiful...

.... after a taxing morning of sitting on the patio drinking coffee, the Missus informed me that I was to take her to lunch this afternoon... being the dutiful husband I am, I closed ranks, found the keys, and asked where she'd like to sup.... "Tellico", she said... "I want to sit by the river and eat lunch.."... and well, that is exactly what we did... oh, and here's the view from where I sliced my sausages today...

...a nicer little nook to gnaw on a pulled pork sandwich can't be found for a good seventy miles, people... and that's a fact... so if you ever find yourself in Tellico Plains with a twenty in your pocket and an appetite, I highly recommend you give them a visit... it's downright civilized...

.. the only downer to the whole afternoon was when I received a phone call from Thunderman... chit chat was enjoyed for a while - as I am as polite as the day is long.... and then he asked me what I was up to... well children, you should have heard the string of frothing obscenities that was thrown my way... that boy can cuss... it nearly put me off my venison...

Decisions....

.... after sawing off some dead limbs today, I sat out on the patio and contemplated the meaning of life for a while.... I sipped a ceremonial rum and Coke and kicked back.... the wind chimes were going peacefully and the sweat was slowly drying off my back... and the more I thought about it all, the more I really began to wish that I could buy Soren Kierkegaard a beer... or mix him up a snazzy gin and tonic while he relaxed under the umbrella....

... although, I kinda doubt he drank... but still, I'd offer....

Sweating...

... spent the morning driving up Knoxville for a lightning raid on one of their liquor stores... did pretty good too... no casualties.. in and out in under five minutes.... the place hardly knew what hit it... my guerrilla-booze tactics are well honed....

... but it never fails though... buying a crate of firewater always leaves me tired and hungry.... that said, I guess it's time to treat myself with a fried Spam sandwich and a bowl of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni... mmm mmmmm... living high on the hog, people, it ain't for the faint of heart....

...besides, I need my strength built up for this afternoon's planned activities... loping dead limbs off of the dogwood trees on the backside of Hell's Half acre while the Missus swings languidly in her hammock...

Lunch...

... I'm off to the garage to grill something... I may be away some time...

... damn, I'm glad it is summertime...

Irn-Bru...

... you know, I just love getting fan-mail... and I like it even more when I get something that just makes me get all misty... like today, for instance... fresh from the SWG mailbag, I found the following missive from an old Jarhead buddy of mine...

Good afternoon sunshine,

I see you're back from the highlands of the UK and yet I haven't heard a word from you. I was so looking forward to some pictures of our old stomping grounds not to mention the unique flavor of my favorite UK beverage, IRN BRU. I can only assume you have decided to ignore me and forget our last communications. I did receive a phone call at my house with a caller ID of TN, but there was no name. I was thinking it was you as you are the ONLY person I know in that state, but alas, there was no message left at my humble abode. Once again, this leaves me to believe you don't consider me worthy of your time. If this is the case, may all of your guns rust, your alcohol turn to sugar water, and your seemingly endless supply of cancer sticks dry up. If this is not the case, please forgive my ramblings and drop me a line at your earliest convenience.

XOXOXOXOXO

Dustin C. Holland
Postal Inspector

... I'm telling you, nothing charms me out of my little white cotton socks like an email ending in XOXOXOXO... seriously.. .

... anyhoo, while I do love getting mail from my old buddy, I just wanted to take this opportunity to point out the insidious evil of the drink Mr. Holland mentioned.. namely, Irn-Bru... (pronounced "Iron Brew".. and made in Scotland from girders, evidently...)...

.... see, once upon a time, my friend Dustin used to be a fine, upstanding individual... a veritable pillar of the community... went to church regularly, paid his taxes on time, helped little old ladies cross the street, etc... but after years of swilling Scotland's Finest Soft Drink, he is reduced to calling me Sunshine, blowing me kisses via email, and wishing my guns would all rust... where will the madness end?!?... but that is the power that this drink has on people.. it'll bend the straight and tarnish the golden.. and the weak-willed and wayward are drawn unswervingly into its mighty clutches... yes, yes, it's just that bad....

... luckily for me, I did manage to smuggle a bottle back across the border for Dustin.. so the threats against my firearms, booze, and cigarettes will largely be brushed off... but honestly, people... politicians rail on and on about the evils of hard liquor, sniffing gasoline, and free-basing diesel fuel... and what they REALLY need to be worrying about is a bright orange cola that tastes like liquid bazooka Joe bubblegum.... because, you know, if that stuff could corrupt Dustin, then no one is safe... no one...

Funerals....

... after dinner last night, the subject of funeral arrangements came up.... what a strange way to end an evening... my Mother insisted on going over her simple plans again.... what exactly we were to do once she checked out; everything was pre-planned in her mind... the type of flowers... the type of casket.... all elements completed and performed as cheaply as possible.... even down to her wishes not to be buried with any of her jewelry on..

... the Wife piped in after a pause and made her wishes known.... Cremation.... cremation, with her ashes taken back to her native land... and then scattered along a small stretch of Montrose beach... a place where she was always content and at peace....

... the mood was quite somber and mellow... deep thoughts had obviously been painstakingly expressed....

.. but once those two were finished, they both looked at me.... as if it were my turn or something.... so I pondered for a bit and sipped my Scotch... and then, I spoke...

... "well, whatever happens, there won't be much left to bury.. I'm sure that the donor surgeons will have picked my carcass nearly clean trying to harvest all of my wonderful organs... so I guess I should just be cremated too... maybe you guys should just have a big bonfire and send me out ala' Funeral Pyre... roast marshmallows or weenies or something and have a party.. I don't want anyone crying when I die.. "

.. taking in a draught of my Talisker, I watched the ladies for a reaction... and after a few seconds of waiting, it came.... "well, dear... that sounds fine.... but Honey, I'm not sure it would work out all that well... I mean, just imagine... the line of people who'd be waiting to toss a celebratory urination on your corpse would be immense... they'd end up putting out the bonfire.. "...

... and as I sat there slack-jawed at the sheer audacity, the two of them giggled like schoolgirls...

.. goodness, people... see what I have to deal with after cooking two women a fine dinner?.. a long line, indeed.... a very, very long line.... but what a visual... I did laugh and laugh.... Damn, I think I should invite my Momma over for dinner more often....

Omens...

.... the Wife and I drove up towards Knoxville today and lunched at Aubrey's... excellent food and Newcastle Brown on tap.... just about as good as it gets here in eastern Tennessee... so I highly recommend their lunch..

... on the way back we hit every backroad I could think of through three counties... dusty roads where tarmac often turned to gravel.... and fields or woodlands ran right up to the ditchline... you sure can tell it is Summertime in the countryside, though... terrapins were crossing the road at every curve..

... and now I am back home safe and sound... The Guy in the Witness Protection Plan just called and said he's on his way over to shoot some pool.. I haven't seen him in ages, so I'm stoked... well, and I do plan on wiping the table with him... we'll see how it goes... it sounds like a storm may be coming in... the Sun is shining but there is thunder in the distance... I'll take that as a good omen....

Plague...

.... I was just out back enjoying a wee siesta when a cloud of tiny, red beasties descended upon me like a screaming horde of chipmunks on a coke-addled biker... yes, yes, it was that bad...

... I ripped off my shirt and swatted about six hundred of them to death with it before I retreated to my medicine cabinet via my liquor cabinet...

... now I am inside the house sporting a fresh sheen of Skin So Soft and an icy gin and tonic... I will not be denied, campers... if I am attacked again, I will attempt to capture one and discern his phylum... why?... well, because I just know you rubberneckers are interested in whatever critter that's brave enough to harsh my mellow....

Home....

.... long flight... long lay-overs... 36 hours without sleep... and now a thunderstorm... 1:30am and the lightning is everywhere.... the rain will be here any minute.....

... God, I missed Tennessee.... I'm going to sleep like the dead tonight....

Howdy...

... greetings from Scotland, gentle readers.... I trust you all are well and fine and getting exactly what each of you deserve....

... oh, and many thanks to Brother Jimbo of the Rest Stop for holding down the fort while I was away... the man is a talented man among talented men... but that Playskool Razor joke was just a bridge too far...

... by the by, I will attempt to post everyday from now on out.... after all, I wouldn't want Jim to get TOO comfortable with my Tennessee neighbors while I'm gone... I fear the poor man doesn't really know how they get after a few stiff drinks (once they get to know you)... and I worry about him losing his heart to the wily ways of a handsome backwoodsman... hey, it has happened before...

... so anyway, here I is... pecking away at the keyboard from the lovely city of Montrose... smelling the salt air of the North Sea... etc.. y'all get the point...

... this is going to be a new project for me, though... a blow by blow travelogue of sorts... exciting stuff... riveting stuff.... you know, like what I had to eat for lunch and such... besides, I know what a short attention span you retards have... so I'll try to keep everything short and sweet..

... but right now I'm running out of time... see, I'm off to a black-tie choral concert tonight and I need to polish my cowboy boots before mingling with the locals... so I'll fill everyone in with the gory details of the past week tomorrow some time...

... for four days Royal Deeside never knew what hit it, people... just trust me...

Crabs...

... well, today has been just full of little surprises... and you know, that's just wonderful.... sure, one would imagine that it would be hard to scare up enough mischief on a quiet Sunday evening... leisurely sipping iced-tea on a secluded woodland deck.... but then, one would be wrong...

... I received a call around noon with a command on how dinner arrangements should be... hey, I'm cool with that... and the menu item?... what delectable meal was requested?... a bacon sandwich.... yes, people, a bacon sandwich...

... good God, I love my life... my Missus wants a bacon sandwich for dinner... Kaiser roll, hickory-smoked bacon fried crisp, freshly sliced onion, slabs of 12-month old English cheddar, lashings of mayonnaise.... it is a thing of beauty, gentle reader, it really is....

... oh, and when I reached into the fridge for the bacon a few minutes ago I saw a large container full of Cajun crab dip... swiftly reaching the end of its shelf-life... so what did I do?... hmmm?...

... well, Fred and Ginger are slurping it up right now out on the porch.... heh heh... those kitties don't know what they're in for later tonight.... the poor little dears....

... you know, it really is hard to have fun in a place like this.. but I do try so very hard to keep myself entertained...

Colonial...

.... been cooking today, and the house reeks of curry powder, garlic, and coconut milk.... those poor, poor chicken breasts.... I imagine that never once in their entire little East Tennessee chicken lives did they ever imagine checking out this way... slowly percolating themselves off into that sweet oblivion that is korma...

.. my naan bread is a bust though... but hey, it always is.... but that doesn't stop me... nope... when it comes to eventually conjuring up the perfect naan bread, I am dogged in my efforts.... but I'm thinking that it takes some sort of celestial-aligning for me to get that crap to rise properly... perhaps a sacrifice of some sort... or maybe some chants or a tribal-style dance...

... anyway, I think I'll go and slip into my silk Punjabi and read some Kipling out on the patio... that always freaks the neighbors out... the Punjabi, that is, not the Kipling...

.... I do so love my Saturday afternoons....

Downtime...

... good morning, rubberneckers... I trust y'all slept well and had pleasant dreams...

... if not, well, it is probably because you each have a guilty conscience.. repent!... I'm hearing confessions in about half an hour.... and the line starts to the left..

... anyway, I just got a mail from Jimbo of The Rest Stop... his site is busted and he claims it isn't his fault.. which sounds dubious at best.... still though, he wanted me to be sure and tell you ˜tards that his site is down until further notice..

... so there, you have been told... and it is a pity, too... his story about Hector's Home-invading was quite popular...

... now, about those confessions.... you know you can trust Uncle Eric...

That time again...

... charcoal suit... kilted knee... leather-soled shoes... bad haircut.... tumbler of scotch... leather sofa... pints of ale... cigars from the bar... cufflinks.... baby blue shirt... Jazz Night at The Links... Montrose, Scotland... dazed and confused.... half-Windsor knot... tab collars... strangers taking photos... feet up.... late at night... beyond fun.... where's my jacket?.. and my scarf?... it's freezing out side.... it'll happen again in May...

... if you want a bigger version... well, here you go...

Higher....

... I was reminded today via email of the infamous Scottish Flag Pole Climbing Incident of 1998... good Lord... I had completely forgotten about it, actually...

... but the guy on the other end of the email reported that he had found video evidence of the climb... and according to him, I was the first of our group to try... and the only one to actually get to the top of the 40ft pole and back down without breaking any bones...

.. my first thought?... holy shit, I must have been hammered... 2nd thought?... you really can't make this crap up....

... but you know, I hate it when people tell me stuff like that out of the blue... I really, really do.... I mean, why bring it up all these years later?... at the time, climbing that flagpole just seemed like the right thing to do... and hey, it wasn't just me either... everyone ELSE thought it was a good idea too... mercy....

... I always get blamed for everything.... dammit... and now there is a video of it all....

Knights....

... way back in the day, a friend of mine once introduced me to a poetic drinking game.... simply known as "In Days of Olde when Knights were Bold"... and oh, the fun we did have... especially as the nights wore on....

.. the basic premise of said game is to offer a toast between rounds.... with each partier trying to best the previous toast... and each toast beginning the same way.... so as today is St. Patrick's Day and everyone is pretending they are Irish for a day... I offer you a simple toast...

"In days of olde when knights were bold, and women wore white lace....

We'd tie them up in silken bonds and make them sit on our face"....

.. heh heh... cheers, people... and happy St. Patrick's Day... hey, even I am wearing green today... see?... and I ain't even a smidgen Irish...

Back....

... well, that was fun... Nashville, I mean.... what a very pleasant town....

... Saturday afternoon I sat myself at the bar of the Big River Grill and placed my order... thirty seconds later I see an old mate of mine at the OTHER end of the bar with his wench crawling all over him... him lost in the dying throes of the Kentucky/South Carolina game... and her completely adrift in his manly manliness...

... needless to say, we hooked up... and spent the next eight hours drinking toasts to the fact that we had parted ways over a year ago.. well, that and he was lamenting the nail-biter Kentucky had lost .... hey, it is always good when you can meet up with an old friend and drink together about how happy you've both been after a year of NOT seeing each other!....

... anyway, the result of our happy reunion nearly got me whipped by a fairly large cowboy-type... and him crucified by his doting date... it was an evening just as it should have been... near misses and lucky breaks...

... still, I really can't complain... it was good to see him again... and it was good to be crawling back up Broadway again...

... oh, and to the Dentist from Selma, Alabama who bought me the Scotch... thanks, killer... you started the Ball of Oblivion rolling... in short, Ed, old buddy, you are the man... it was a true pleasure letting you bum cigarettes off of me.... and I enjoyed our conversation immensely.... next time I'm down in Selma, you owe me a carton of Camels... and a free cleaning....

... and to the big cowboy at The Stage on Broadway?... terribly sorry, big guy... I was out of line... and it had been a hard week.. and a lot of bridges (and water under them).... so I trust all is forgiven.... I really am a saint most of the time... honest.... Peace, brother...

Social Decline....

.... for the past six weeks, there has been very little activity in the Eagle Glen Social Club.... instead of the guys dropping by en masse at the appointed hour on a Wednesday, they have trickled in one at a time throughout the week... begging off shooting pool and cracking a beer.. or just calling in to touch base... this Winter has seen the club members ride the scary Rollercoaster of Life with lots of white knuckles and quite a few smiles... but the result is still the same... Wednesdays have become sleepy evenings here at the casa..

... the reasons for the change are quite diverse... overwork, sickness, extra responsibilities... even falling in love... hey, it's good to see my buds having their ups and downs....

... but last night though, the club was reopened... that's right... the Guy in the Witness Protection Plan showed up with his family in tow and graced us for a few hours... my pool shooting has certainly gone downhill, people... he AND his son wiped the table with my sorry self... it was bad...

.... Ahh... it's all good, I guess.... but I can see the writing on the wall... I've watched us over these past two years... how we have slowly changed every Wednesday... bit by bit... from fierce competition in the beginning.. to camaraderie.. to friendship... and then to casually dropping by just whenever... like Wednesday has expanded to include each day of the week... anytime, day or night....

... in a way, it is the end.... and soon I suppose the Social Club will be disbanded... after all, it was created to add structure to our fun.. and now, well, I guess you can't shoehorn friendship into an allocated slot of time... it is a constant thing... a continual thing... and it really doesn't matter if it is Wednesday night or not...

... but hey, it is kinda sad though... Hell, I was just about to get tee-shirts printed up and draw us up a charter...

Jo Guest...

... ever have a moment of fleeting fancy that you just could not resist?... an itch that just had to be scratched?.... maybe while on an internet shop or watching that crap channel that sells cubic zirconium stones the size of marbles?... or what about while rummaging around e-Bay whilst a little too ginned up?... well, yeah, me too... and the little treasure arrived a few weeks ago...

... it's kinda depressing, really... but I am now the proud owner of a truly gigantic poster of one Miss Joanne Guest... sucker is huge, too... 4 feet X 6 feet... what I was thinking when I bought it is beyond me... surely I was in a combined state of drunkenness and horned-up insanity... that can, after all, be the only explanation.. but regardless, she is here... snuggled in a shipping tube that is leaning against a corner of the blogroom...

... of course when I unpacked her I was full of anticipation... especially because I had no recollection of ordering her to begin with... she was truly a surprise... and trust me, people, the smack that struck me in the back of the head as my wife gazed on as she was unfurled is now a thing of myth and legend...

... anyway, although she is here now, I have to admit that I've always had a soft spot for Miss Guest.. which is strange, really, because blondes just don't do it for me... but there is just something about the way she arches her back that is absolutely enthralling... the girl must be double-jointed or something... believe me, ladies and gentlemen... I've seen videos and the girl has real talent... special abilities, so to speak... of course, she's never done any hardcore work... and hey, I am torn over that... one the one hand I do respect her immensely for only getting her tits out and showing some skin... but another part of me wants to see her nailed by a guy sporting a woody the size of a toddler's arm... over and over again... in slow motion..

.. but be all that as it may, here I sit with my bigger-than-life poster of Joanne Guest and no place to put it... and no recollection of buying her...

... so, while most of my tales end with some great, mind-bending view of society in decline, a fart joke, or something wonderfully insightful about the frailties of humanity and living life to the fullest, this post isn't like that.... no... it is different....

... for today, I must get shed of my poster of Miss Guest... lest I myself become surplus to requirements around these parts... I'll show you the photo in just a moment... her pinned down with my old autographed cricket bat and pet Gila Monster..... which, yeah, I know is just wrong... had I had my way I would have pinned her down with something else..

.... anyway, the bidding starts at three dollars..... so, who wants her?.... trust me.. she's worth more than three bucks..... hell, I paid fifteen for her myself not two weeks ago...

Sunday Snow...

... well, well.... it's actually snowing here.... unbelievable.. a dusting fell last night, and now more has started to fall.. large flakes... slowly falling and finding their resting place in the grass.... from where I sit looking out the window, they swirl slightly before hitting the ground... I guess that means that we have a slight SSW wind sneaking around the corner of the house... it's quite beautiful, this falling snow... the pattern in the distance is of slightly slanting flakes... but closer to where I sit, well, they are caught in the vortex created by the breeze...

I guess this is my Sunday morning entertainment... watching the snow fall while nursing a cup of coffee and a mug of orange juice...

... maybe I will wander outside later and see if I can make a snowman... I haven't done that in years... then again, perhaps I should celebrate this first snowfall by mixing a cocktail with it... maybe gather some snow and squeeze it hard into a ball.... then plop that baby into a martini glass and cover with a freshly shaken Cosmopolitan... after all, it is Sunday... and all I have to do today is cook a pork loin this afternoon...

... I so do love it when it snows...

Chow...

... a typically relaxed late-morning again... hey, I know all you hard-working individs out there just hate it when I say that... well, too damn bad... that's why I say it in the first place... and just to stick the knife in a little deeper, as I type this the house is filled with the pleasing aroma of my bolognaise sauce contentedly percolating on the stove... you guys should be so damn lucky....

.. I truly love to cook.. the act of creating something that has depth.. it's like art almost.. the more crap you add to the recipe, the stranger and more interesting the flavors become... today I'm cooking with cheeses.. it's a well-practiced variation on my normal theme....

... anyway, a few months ago, I showed T1G how to make my spaghetti... he was half in the bag at the time, so he probably doesn't remember... and seeing as I've just finished prepping the sauce, I guess I'll share portions of the recipe with everyone... of course, I'll leave the secret ingredients out... they are, after all, secret...

... first off, as I've said many times, the most important thing about creating a sauce is to have the right music playing in the background... shitty soundtrack, and the sauce turns out bad.. don't believe me?... try cooking with ABBA in the background... your dog wouldn't even nibble the most exquisite morsel were it prepared by someone under the influence of ABBA...

... when T1G was here, we cooked to Dire Straits "On Every Street" album... it was New Ground... sure, it turned out alright.. but I should have stuck with my tape of bullfighting music... which brings me to today... today shall see our spoons being shimmied to the groove of John Mellencamp's "Uh Huh"... a fine and well-proven soundtrack to sauce making... although not as productive as bullfight tunes, it does add a certain peppery flavor to the finished product...

... ok, ok... put on some music and play along.. listen and learn...

... let us start off with stuff you'll need...

*a pound of ground beef
*1/3 cup of chopped garlic
*olive oil... any kind will do... nothing around this house is "extra virgin", so it really doesn't matter..
*a large onion
*ground cloves
*vanilla extract
*two bay leaves
*basil and oregano in unbelievable quantities...
*grated parmesan, mozzarella, asiago, and romano cheese..
*any kind of spaghetti sauce you want to use.. (after we're through with it, it'll be totally unrecognizable...)
*pasta.. I like to use rigatoni.. the sauce is going to end up incredibly thick.. if you use a wuss noodle like spaghetti, the sauce will just push right through.. rigatoni will grab hold of the sauce with its little folds and hang on... I like that in a pasta...

... oops, gotta go... time to stir the sauce...

cooking...

... lazy, lazy Sunday here... overcast sky.... I'm making Chicken Parmesan again for dinner tonight... but I'm not sure if it'll work out right... I've lost my CD of bullfighting music... and Guns and Roses is in caddy...

... I've been listening to the Kentucky Headhunters all afternoon.... never tried cooking Italian food while listening to them... might turn out a bit strange.... word, people... never underestimate the importance of having the right background music when cooking... you heard it here first...

... anyway, sitting here now, I'm yearning for my coonskin cap... saw a six point buck in the back yard yesterday afternoon... he was gnawing on my muscadine vine and looking wily... varmint... his days are numbered..

... that just about sums up my day... some cooking... some drinking... some music... no drama... a few History Channel documentaries... all the while plotting the demise of fluffy forest creatures with a high powered rifle...

... all in all, even with the occasional speed-bump, life is pretty damn good...

Toe troubles....

... I think I had a stroke or something a few days ago

... isn't one of the symptoms of having a stroke that some piece of you goes numb?... I woke up Monday morning and nearly fell when I tried to get out of bed... see, the left side of my right big toe was numb... I ended up lurching around like a Village of the Damned extra till late afternoon when I finally figured out how to walk with a half-numb big toe... and it's been that way ever since... no, not the lurching, the numbness...

... so, what is/was it?... stroke?... blood clot?... flesh-eating virus?... signs of a midnight abduction by alien foot fetishists?...

... I don't know, but it sure is weird.... I've never had random body parts just go on strike like this before... and of all the parts that I have offended over the years (and that have a legitimate reason to form a picket line), why the lowly toe?... it's not like I go around kicking the Hell out of stuff... for the most part, I leave the bastard alone...

.. I'd have expected this crap from my liver or kidneys... but never from a comfortable, well-socked toe... I always thought he was happy...

More on Barbarians...

... that's right, rubberneckers... not only is it "Barbarian Weekend" on The History Channel, but y'all are getting it here too... hey, what can I say, I'm bored... anyway, I was just reading that one in four humans on the face of the planet have a direct bloodline back to Genghis Khan... yeah, let that one sink in for a minute...

... done?.. good... now say it with me... "DAMN!.. now that is a legacy"...

... sure, sure... say what you will, but something tells me he was "conquering" more than huge tracts of land and the occasional uppity Sultan... then again, maybe he didn't conquer those darlings after all... Hell, for all we know, the damsels lined right up when they saw his armored camel come galloping over the horizon.... catch my drift?...

... see, even back then, the ladies got all weak-kneed over the badboys.. power, safety, money, a little bit of ruthlessness thrown in for good measure, and those furry dark-age knickers were getting dropped by the bushel load... and now look at us... clean-shaven.. reading glasses... high cholesterol... what a damn depressing lot we have become...

... it's always at these pleasant times of the afternoons when all the great mud puddles of life get slowly clearer through liberal use of Lagavulin.. sorry that you guys are having to bear witness... but still, Genghis Khan?... 1 in 4 people?... damn... and I hear tell that no one knows where he was laid to rest on the Steppes... easy way to find him?... walk across Mongolia reading a copy GQ Magazine aloud, and then listen for the vibrations of him spinning in his grave... yeah, talk about a civilization in decline...

... that said, I totally retract what I spouted in my previous post... I'm not a barbarian.. Hell, I'm not even a badboy... shit, I even have table manners... and apart from the occasional antics after too much Barley, I'm really a fluffy-bunny type guy... totally harmless... well, a fluffy-bunny type guy with lots of guns...

... but still... 1 in 4 people... that's just amazing... and even though I know it isn't true... I'd like to imagine old Genghis would at least enjoy sipping a fine Scotch with me on the deck before ransacking the house and barbecuing the cats...

Lunch....

... well, wonders never cease.... just when I thought it was safe to sleep till noon and enjoy a recliner-based lifestyle, I got the call yesterday...

.. shocking, I know... however, it promised to be only an accidental blip on my hedonistic radar screen.. so I'm not too stressed out... it was only one day of toil... see, it seems my local government needed my services for the day... installing a new workstation computer.... I handled it.. after all, when one's government needs them, well, you just have to step up...

... actually, I'm not too bitter about the situation... it was a beautiful day for tooling into town with the sunroof open on my way to the office...

... as for today, it's all very civilized... I'm off to a coffee shop in town for lunch... a leisurely stroll around the courthouse square in the sunshine to walk off my turkey panini... and then back home in time for evening cocktails... complete with swizzle sticks, no less...

Safe....

... a steady trickle of trick or treaters visited the casa last night... various ghouls and goblins rang the doorbell and shared in the fruits of my candy dish... and one in particular stands out.. a wee tike of about three who was dressed as a pumpkin... cleaving unto his Momma's breast and crying bloody murder... poor lad... his brother was dressed in a mask that squirted blood on occasion.. quite gory, if you ask me... and hey, I don't blame the little pumpkin guy... as I had just woken up from a lambkin dream on the couch myself, and it freaked me too..

.. ahh, but candy is the ultimate pacifier... once his bro doffed the mask and grabbed two chocolates from the bowl, the little pumpkin acquiesced and even smiled as I handed him a miniature milkway... Momma smiled gratefully at me, and daubed at the mascara streaking her blemishless face....

... of course, as big bro slid the mask back on and headed towards Momma's mini-van, pumpkinboy began wailing again... burying his orange-painted face into protective embrace of his Mother's white cashmere sweater...

... I poured myself a large Lagavulin and laughed out loud after they'd gone... and as I kicked my feet up onto the ottoman and sank into the couch, I closed my eyes... oh to be young again... when squishing your face between two fluffy bosoms would provide the ultimate safe-haven from the beasts of the World...

Morning...

... well, rubberneckers.... where to start?... to be honest, I have no idea... it was awesome...

... bleary-eyed, I sit here... coffee in hand... still in disbelief that some of my favorite people made the long journey to my house and partied hardy... and best of all, my sleepy little neighborhood is still standing... albeit covered in beer bottles, lost clothing, and cigarette butts... it still stands...

... in a word, gentle readers, my humble home has just survived being hit by a blogger-tsunami... the likes of which I have never read about on the internet before... it was marvelous and overwhelming...

... and damn, I want to do it again...

... more later when I can focus my eyes better on the screen....

Brutal...

... well, folks.. last night saw one of the most brutal beatings in the history of billiards... Cousin Brad and I played for about five hours and I lost only three times... two of which were when I inadvertently scratched on the eight.. yeah, it was rough... but hey, I am nothing if not gracious and humble in victory..

... and it wasn't that Brad couldn't open a can of whoop-ass from time to time... it's just that when the game came down to the final shots, his luck would tuck tail and skedaddle like Yankees at 1st Manassas.. leaving me in command of the table...

.... ahhh... it's all good though...

.. you know, some people say "you can't win them all", and that is true... very true... but losing them ALL still has a bit of a sting...

Bodies.....

.. spent the day washing curtains, sipping Becks Dark, and watching Tennessee battle themselves Alabama... hey, it happens..... glad they brought Ainge in to throw an interception though... that was definitely a high-point.... ahh, Hell.. enough about all that....

.. I'm getting ready to hit the sack now.... and as I type this, comedic dialogue from "Arsenic and Old Lace" is bouncing off the darkened walls of the living room....

... the Better Half reclined.... sipping Australian merlot while lip-syncing one of her favorites.... yeah, Cary Grant again... not the car this time, of course.. the real deal.... the dapper Mortimer....

... cycles... cycles.... remember the scene when the old Aunts say that Johnny can't bury his latest victim in the cellar because they already have twelve bodies down there?.... remember the guy who thinks he's Teddy Roosevelt?....

... indeed... no room at the Inn, people... we're all Ambassadors to someone...

just another Wednesday...

... with a well-drugged Babe in the sack of the Master Bedroom, tonight's Social Club gathering went off without a hitch.... not as many faces as usual, but still an interesting group.... oh, and we kept our normal yelping, cursing, and music playing at a civilized decibel level... lest we disturb the Sleeping Goddess..... hey, I knew y'all were worried...

.... and for those who are inquisitive about my billiard skills this evening, Biker Steve whipped me good.... but that's ok.. three games to two in eightball.. Hell, he was the Better Man tonight....and life, as ever, soldiers on...

.... that is the point, right?... we keep on keeping on.... damn the torpedoes, and all that?....

... ahh... it's cool.... just as it should be..... sometimes you're the windshield.. sometimes you're the bug. and sometimes you're the husband... and sometimes you are the patient...

... well, I suppose it is acceptance... that's the real yardstick... acceptance.... once you get past that, you're cookin' with gas....

... we are what we are.. and we are WHERE we are.. and we all built our own castles and took our own roads.... today, tomorrow, or ten years from now, we all have to understand where we've been and how we ended up where the morning finds us....

.... as for me?.... after kicking out the last of the players and ensuring my Treasure was safely asleep.. well, I have no complaints... no complaints at all..... and in saying that, I am saying volumes....

Never again....

.... well, it is finished...

... damn, I hurt all over.... 8am start and finishing just as dusk fell at 7:30pm.... the working life does not agree with me, I suppose... soft, and all that.... we broke for lunch at 3:45... truly, I am beat down..

... I never knew that screwing could be so painful...

... be that as it may, the site was dedicated, of course, with laphroaig (me)... and dickle (my Uncle).... toasts were made and sawdust swept... chests were thumped and phonecalls made... hey, it was an event...

... now?.. time for a shower, ibuprofen, and more Scotch.... all three, incidentally, make me feel much, much better...

... that said?... NEVER again.... never ever again...

A Real Cool Hand....

... in preparation for my upcoming weekend, I am re-watching Cool Hand Luke and purging myself with bee pollen and gin...

... all said, I should be daisy-fresh by morning.... God knows that by Sunday I'll be slummed like a 7th Avenue gutter after the Sailors have been through...

... but some things you just have to do.. right?... besides, I'll be meeting my mates, my friends, and quite a few I admire greatly....

.. and so, sing with me, gentle readers... for tomorrow, I shall be walking just that wee bit closer to them.... Blog Gods.... meeting at the Oracle...

I am weak but thou art strong
Jesus keep me from all wrong
I'll be satisfied as long
As I walk, let me walk close to thee

When life's sun sinks in the west
Lord, may I have done my best
May I find sweet peace and rest
In that happy home of the blessed

... fitting, no?... A Closer Walk With Thee Them...

$1,000....

... last night, in between shots, the deal went down.. a cool grand exchanged hands... not my hands, of course, I was merely an observer... still, it was a sight to behold... 10 crisp bills... the object of lust was a handmade Bowie knife... moose leg-bone handle... seductively curved 12-inch blade... artistry in metal, people...

... very nice... but a little too rich for my blood...

... after the deal?.. more shots, talk of cowboy hats, and sipping Absinthe raw... always a surprise, you know?... you just never know how an evening will idle down...

Bind me not...

... since some bloggers have braved my Wednesday night gatherings, I suppose it is proper to make this announcement here... although, I must say that it pertains more to non-blogging cretins that hang at my house mid-week... anyway, here goes...

... we, the loosely bound group known as the Eagle Glen Social Club, have agreed to add a new law to the Rules of Wednesday Night....

... any agreement - written, verbal, implied, cajoled, or guessed-at while shooting pool on a Wednesday - is to be considered null and void until verification of said agreement can be made in the sober light of day...

... in other words, if I get well oiled on cheap busthead and offer to buy your car, do not go out at first light the next morning and have the title changed.... and THEN expect me to actually buy your damn car from you....

... sure, there is taking advantage, and then there is Taking Advantage... so, hark, people... from here on out, all wheeling and dealing is performed at the peril of the wheeler and/or dealer...

... I hate that it has become necessary to write this down, but trust me.. this post is simply a precaution... having one's weekly constitutional is very, very important... and nothing should get in the way of nursing a good buzz...

I'm not laughing with you...

... last night the gang were in rare form... foul language flew, flasks were drained, and backs were slapped... a sterling time was had by all... last Wednesday I was in NYC so the Social Club didn't meet... last night?.. well, having had two weeks between Gatherings, they were certainly ready to go...

... I spent most of yesterday setting the railings for the deck with my Uncle... tightening bolts, leveling... ensuring that each post pointed proudly towards Heaven at the perfect angle... and today I plan on finishing up the laying of the decking.. it should be fun...

... on a side note, I discovered a new angle to increase the pool-shooting pleasure yesterday evening... obstacles... see, I had stacked eight 2X12X12's under the table... merely for convenience.. heh heh... one could actually see the cloud of bitching and moaning ascending towards the sky with the naked eye... toes were stumped as rednecks jockeyed for position to take shots.... word... woe unto the man who wears sandals... which incidentally, was dear Cousin Brad... poor bastard got about half-lit and it seemed to kill his short term memory... every time he circled the pool table, he'd slam one of his toes into the immovable stack of 2X12's and then lope and prance like a man possessed for a minute or two.. it was classic..

... say what you will, people.. but I am a simple man... and I must say, I do not delight in the misfortune of others... but I did laugh.. yes, I did...heartily and with a gusto borne of cheap Scotch... this is the boondocks of Tennessee, after all... we gotta find our entertainment where we can...

Sorting it all out...

... well, I'm trying to decipher some of the drunken hieroglyphs I just found in my luggage... notes, I think, jotted on bar napkins.. just charming... but hey, would you expect anything less?... well, it is proving more difficult than I imagined...

... firstly, while in NYC, I spent every night in The Beekman Towers... a truly wonderful hotel and an art deco masterpiece... tile and marble and arches circa 1928... I had a large, comfortable, and self-contained suite with a great view of the East River and the UN Building... not a bad place to watch the world go by and relax after an afternoon walking the city... I highly recommend it...

... the whole time I was there, an area of three blocks surrounding the place was closed to traffic... cops, firemen, FBI agents, Secret Service, and U.S. Marshals absolutely oozed from every doorway.... Hell, we had at least three armed and suited men in our lobby at any given minute... diplomats everywhere too.... 60th anniversary of the UN or some such... we even saw the President Bush's motorcade... there I stood on the sidewalk along with Ambassadors, UN flunkies, and the news cameras.... to say I stuck out would be a gross understatement...

.. verily, one doesn't see cowboy boots very often unless they are being worn by some Saks junkie with a Sugar Daddy.. and their boots ain't Justin's either... pointy-toed Dolce & Gabbanas... that's just wrong... I mean, I doubt that even the Marlboro Man could walk through Times Square without getting his manly haunches pinched by some wafer thin boot-wearing wasp with a goatee...

.. which reminds me.. I did the obligatory tour of the men's department of Saks.. sixth and seventh floors... Jesus... I've never seen so many duckies doddling for 70 dollar handkerchiefs in my life... not my bag at all, but well worth the experience... to each his own, and all that... but why any grown man would buy 200 dollar underwear is simply beyond me... I didn't buy anything, of course, but it was definitely an education...

.. you know that other half we all keep hearing about?.. yeah, they shop at Saks... the rest of us?... salt of the Earth, people, that's what we are... salt of the Earth...