Wednesday, August 28, 2013
OH CRAP!!!!
Sorry folks, but I just managed to delete my last post about Charlie Manson. Sorry, my bad. Someone please spank me. Please???
Monday, August 5, 2013
AHHH... LATE SUMMER IN 'sCONSIN. IT'S A DELICIOUS TREAT!!!
This place amazes the hell out of me. My time in this state goes back to the 1960's. My family used to spend summers here. I went to college here. And then, twenty years ago I had the good sense to move back here and just park my butt. Yes, the weather here is a ball buster. Between February and July you can find yourself stuck to the sidewalk in white-out conditions because of blizzards or collapsing on that same sidewalk in triple digit temps and humidity that would kill palm trees and iguanas. Yes, such is southern 'sconsin.
For twenty years I have immersed myself in this hearty group of sojourners and have happily dived into the deep end. Naked on several (many???) occasions. With a smile on my face. Trust me on this one, if you haven't been to 'sconsin, especially southern 'sconsin you are missing one hell of a whomping good time. We are a state of immigrants going back generations. We are indeed from everywhere. We have more ethnic festivals here than you can shake a kielbasa at. If you can boil it, bread it, grill it in the back yard, deep fry it or drink it we got it going on. Yep, this is a friendly, slightly bemused state. (Of mind???). Oh, hell, think about it, we know how to polka!!! And trust me again, we most certainly do NOT dress "up" for the State Fair. I have never lived in a more deliciously dizzy state of mind than I have in 'sconsin. Smile on my face!!!
Our State Bird is the mosquito. Shit, those things have a wing span that rivals the Andean Condor. We actually have an official State Soil, it is Antigo Silt Loam. That stuff is truly magical.. It is the richest, blackest and most fertile soil on the face of the planet. I swear, you could toss a shoe into a field of this stuff and it would grow into a strip mall with a gas station. Over the years I have been here, I have stuck single seeds into the ground and have ended up with truck loads of stuff. Literally. Squash, melons you name it, I have done so many drive-by drop-offs of produce that my friends actually threatened to report me to animal control. Aah, yes, it can indeed get green here...
And then there is Madison, the city where I live. Hmmmm.... we are a small BLUE marble surrounded by a mass of RED. For those of you not in the know, Blue equals Democrat, Red equals Republican. Just think Liberal versus Conservative. Yes, there is a very good reason why our city motto is "77 square miles surrounded by reality." This city is proud of it's eccentricities. And lord knows, we got a lot of them. What can I say, we just like to have a damned good time here. It doesn't matter whether we are freezing our asses off or sweating our tits off, we just wanna have fun. And eat. And drink. Especially drink. If you can't spend at least 60% of your dinner tab on cocktails then you're just not doing a Friday night fish fry right!!! If you actually have to ask for extra tartar sauce, honey, you are in the wrong restaurant!!! We say "hi" to strangers here without even thinking about it. If we have known you more than 30 seconds we give you a hug. We will happily give you our seat on the bus and ask about your kids. Yeah, damned friendly bunch of folks here. And I'm glad to be one of them.
Next Friday (FISH FRY!!!) a group of us will be gathering for yet another birthday celebration at one of our favorite local dives to welcome a dear friend into 57. Yes, 57. OK, to me that seems like days of future past but to him it will be a whole new door to open. This restaurant staff is used to us by now, we have celebrated way too many (WAY too many!!!) birthdays there and they know just exactly what we are capable of. Lots of cocktails, rainbow colored wigs, red foam clown noses, strange glasses and a squirt gun or two. Or three... And perhaps a whoopee cushion. Or two. Oh, how I love tradition... And a wait staff that knows how to deal with us. Yes, we can certainly be entertaining here. And we know how to tip. And that's important. Trust me. It means that they'll let you back in the next time that you show up.
Never in my life have I felt so comfortable while not in the tropics. Good friends, good beer, good food and just a good time in general. Again, a smile on my face... Where else in the world can you put on a hat shaped like a wedge of cheddar cheese, paint your mostly naked body green and gold (GO PACKERS!!!) and get on public transportation and not get a single glance of "WTF???" Yes, this is my kind of State Of Mind!!!
BTW, "Birthday Boy", we got a few surprises up our sleeves. Duck and cover...
For twenty years I have immersed myself in this hearty group of sojourners and have happily dived into the deep end. Naked on several (many???) occasions. With a smile on my face. Trust me on this one, if you haven't been to 'sconsin, especially southern 'sconsin you are missing one hell of a whomping good time. We are a state of immigrants going back generations. We are indeed from everywhere. We have more ethnic festivals here than you can shake a kielbasa at. If you can boil it, bread it, grill it in the back yard, deep fry it or drink it we got it going on. Yep, this is a friendly, slightly bemused state. (Of mind???). Oh, hell, think about it, we know how to polka!!! And trust me again, we most certainly do NOT dress "up" for the State Fair. I have never lived in a more deliciously dizzy state of mind than I have in 'sconsin. Smile on my face!!!
Our State Bird is the mosquito. Shit, those things have a wing span that rivals the Andean Condor. We actually have an official State Soil, it is Antigo Silt Loam. That stuff is truly magical.. It is the richest, blackest and most fertile soil on the face of the planet. I swear, you could toss a shoe into a field of this stuff and it would grow into a strip mall with a gas station. Over the years I have been here, I have stuck single seeds into the ground and have ended up with truck loads of stuff. Literally. Squash, melons you name it, I have done so many drive-by drop-offs of produce that my friends actually threatened to report me to animal control. Aah, yes, it can indeed get green here...
And then there is Madison, the city where I live. Hmmmm.... we are a small BLUE marble surrounded by a mass of RED. For those of you not in the know, Blue equals Democrat, Red equals Republican. Just think Liberal versus Conservative. Yes, there is a very good reason why our city motto is "77 square miles surrounded by reality." This city is proud of it's eccentricities. And lord knows, we got a lot of them. What can I say, we just like to have a damned good time here. It doesn't matter whether we are freezing our asses off or sweating our tits off, we just wanna have fun. And eat. And drink. Especially drink. If you can't spend at least 60% of your dinner tab on cocktails then you're just not doing a Friday night fish fry right!!! If you actually have to ask for extra tartar sauce, honey, you are in the wrong restaurant!!! We say "hi" to strangers here without even thinking about it. If we have known you more than 30 seconds we give you a hug. We will happily give you our seat on the bus and ask about your kids. Yeah, damned friendly bunch of folks here. And I'm glad to be one of them.
Next Friday (FISH FRY!!!) a group of us will be gathering for yet another birthday celebration at one of our favorite local dives to welcome a dear friend into 57. Yes, 57. OK, to me that seems like days of future past but to him it will be a whole new door to open. This restaurant staff is used to us by now, we have celebrated way too many (WAY too many!!!) birthdays there and they know just exactly what we are capable of. Lots of cocktails, rainbow colored wigs, red foam clown noses, strange glasses and a squirt gun or two. Or three... And perhaps a whoopee cushion. Or two. Oh, how I love tradition... And a wait staff that knows how to deal with us. Yes, we can certainly be entertaining here. And we know how to tip. And that's important. Trust me. It means that they'll let you back in the next time that you show up.
Never in my life have I felt so comfortable while not in the tropics. Good friends, good beer, good food and just a good time in general. Again, a smile on my face... Where else in the world can you put on a hat shaped like a wedge of cheddar cheese, paint your mostly naked body green and gold (GO PACKERS!!!) and get on public transportation and not get a single glance of "WTF???" Yes, this is my kind of State Of Mind!!!
BTW, "Birthday Boy", we got a few surprises up our sleeves. Duck and cover...
Friday, August 2, 2013
THERE ARE TIMES YOU JUST GOTTA DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO...
August is one one those times. My time. Yes, it is watermelon time. Can you say, "someone is in heaven???". I make no excuses. I am a child of The South. A true hillbilly by birth. I've got watermelon written all over me. And running down the front of me as well. Trust me, the shallow end of my gene pool is full of watermelon rinds...
Melons and yours truly have a long history. A REALLY long history. I come from a long line of farmers. Crazy ones at the very least. But they had the good sense to plant melons. Mmmmmm!!! Cantaloupes. (Very good!) Muskmelons. (Even better!!!) And then there was the field of watermelons. OMg!!! Watermelons!!! Aah, yes, watermelons... Holy shit, those things were bigger than me!!!
I've known how to spot a ripe watermelon from 50 feet away since I was 4 years old. Screw that thumping it with your finger, I just had to roll it over and take a look at it. Mmmmm.... watermelon. Grandma taught me well. Yes, a melon of any sort is a thing a beauty, but, a watermelon. Now that is a whole different animal. I grew up with a whole shitload of melons. Cantaloupes get pepper. So does Muskmelon. Especially Muskmelon!!! To die for!!! But a Watermelon. Hmmmm... That's a whole different exit. I have been known to sit down and eat an entire watermelon by myself in one sitting with a salt shaker in hand. And stab one of my more stupid cousins with the fork when they made the bad decision to get too close to me while I was "feeding". Grandma always seemed to know how to settle the fight and bandage us back up. Or, at the very least, separate us somehow... Yeah, somehow that dear woman knew that watermelon was sacred to me. Yep, it was and still is, something that I do not give up easily.
Today, I search out melons with a vengeance. Of all kinds. I have gone berserk in grocery stores all over the world when I see a new melon. I have stalked melons of all sorts in all 4 hemispheres and way too many time zones. Show me a melon and I AM there!!! Show me what you can do with it? I AM THERE!!! I ain't met a melon that I have not wanted to marry. But...
Watermelon. OMg!!! Those things are like a weird chemical abuse thing with me. If I could actually figure out a way to dice them up with a razor blade and inhale them through a rolled up dollar bill I'd be a candidate for the Betty Ford Clinic right about now. Yes, it's that bad.
Unfortunately, today, a watermelon just isn't what it used to be. What the bloody hell is up with these "personal" watermelons??? The yellow ones??? (Yellow??? Really???) And this whole seedless thing is just an enormous pain in the ass. Yes, there, I have said it. PAIN IN THE ASS!!! WTF fun is a watermelon if you can't have a seed spitting contest on the front porch??? I would sell secrets to the former Soviet Union for one of those wonderful, 3 foot long, 50 pound, striped monsters that I had to haul out of grandma's garden in my Radio Flier Wagon because it was so big. Now, those were watermelons.
Grandma, I don't know what I miss more. You or your garden... But thank you for the taste of life on both counts!!! I remember spitting watermelon seed from your "glider" on your front porch before we ever heard the word "Sputnik".
Yeah... watermelons.
Melons and yours truly have a long history. A REALLY long history. I come from a long line of farmers. Crazy ones at the very least. But they had the good sense to plant melons. Mmmmmm!!! Cantaloupes. (Very good!) Muskmelons. (Even better!!!) And then there was the field of watermelons. OMg!!! Watermelons!!! Aah, yes, watermelons... Holy shit, those things were bigger than me!!!
I've known how to spot a ripe watermelon from 50 feet away since I was 4 years old. Screw that thumping it with your finger, I just had to roll it over and take a look at it. Mmmmm.... watermelon. Grandma taught me well. Yes, a melon of any sort is a thing a beauty, but, a watermelon. Now that is a whole different animal. I grew up with a whole shitload of melons. Cantaloupes get pepper. So does Muskmelon. Especially Muskmelon!!! To die for!!! But a Watermelon. Hmmmm... That's a whole different exit. I have been known to sit down and eat an entire watermelon by myself in one sitting with a salt shaker in hand. And stab one of my more stupid cousins with the fork when they made the bad decision to get too close to me while I was "feeding". Grandma always seemed to know how to settle the fight and bandage us back up. Or, at the very least, separate us somehow... Yeah, somehow that dear woman knew that watermelon was sacred to me. Yep, it was and still is, something that I do not give up easily.
Today, I search out melons with a vengeance. Of all kinds. I have gone berserk in grocery stores all over the world when I see a new melon. I have stalked melons of all sorts in all 4 hemispheres and way too many time zones. Show me a melon and I AM there!!! Show me what you can do with it? I AM THERE!!! I ain't met a melon that I have not wanted to marry. But...
Watermelon. OMg!!! Those things are like a weird chemical abuse thing with me. If I could actually figure out a way to dice them up with a razor blade and inhale them through a rolled up dollar bill I'd be a candidate for the Betty Ford Clinic right about now. Yes, it's that bad.
Unfortunately, today, a watermelon just isn't what it used to be. What the bloody hell is up with these "personal" watermelons??? The yellow ones??? (Yellow??? Really???) And this whole seedless thing is just an enormous pain in the ass. Yes, there, I have said it. PAIN IN THE ASS!!! WTF fun is a watermelon if you can't have a seed spitting contest on the front porch??? I would sell secrets to the former Soviet Union for one of those wonderful, 3 foot long, 50 pound, striped monsters that I had to haul out of grandma's garden in my Radio Flier Wagon because it was so big. Now, those were watermelons.
Grandma, I don't know what I miss more. You or your garden... But thank you for the taste of life on both counts!!! I remember spitting watermelon seed from your "glider" on your front porch before we ever heard the word "Sputnik".
Yeah... watermelons.
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