What I did on my Memorial Day Vacation.

Jackson and I went camping.

We went to Caprock Canyon.



This is our campsite.

We are easy to find if you look for the pirate flag.



We (and by that I mean "he") did a lot of dutch oven cooking this time. Here are the pots cooking the bisquits and gravy we had for breakfast.



And these are the remains of the beans and cornbread

we had for supper one night. Yummy!



We saw some sights.



And some prickly pear blooms.



And of course we visited the cemetery.

Jackson and Spooky had a very nice time.

The End.

Friday Cemetery Blogging

Doesn't this make you wish you'd known this guy?

I bet he was a ton of fun.

The bottom line of the inscription reads: Real Men Wear Pink

This is fun!

I saw this on Educated and Poor:

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few.But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky. Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

And yes, I do know all the words to "Sweet Transvestite".

The Big One Oh

Katie turned 10 today.

One day last week, faced with her looming cross-over into the double digit ages, she decided to watch country music videos instead of yet another God-awful, teeth-grindingly insipid episode of Full House before going to school. (What is the frickin' deal with Full House??? I HATED Full House when it was first on the air. And now every kid I know LOVES it! Bah!) I was pretty ok with this - as country music is slightly less insipid than those ugly-ass Olsen twins - until they aired a new Toby Keith video.

I have a big ol’ set of preconceived notions about Toby Keith and was fully prepared to hate this video. And Toby did not disappoint. The video was a cross between the The Cask of Amontillado and a snuff film. The girl in the video seemed to be portraying the dualistic message of “Oh, please don’t kill poor li’l helpless me!” and “Oh baby, you’re so hot, especially when you want to hit me.” Quality stuff! Naturally I went off on a long tirade about misogyny, mixed messages, and fantasy-land garbage. At the end of the video, Katie turned around and asked Jackson and I, “Do you think that really happened?”

We were floored. In a world where kids are so cognizant of special effects and such things, I tend to forget that they don’t filter information the same way I do. Jackson and I both gave voluminous speeches about make-believe, truth in advertising and downright misleading information that we see on television, etc, etc. She’s gone back to watching Full House before school.

That was early in the week. Towards the end of the week, we decided we were going to go see The DaVinci Code on Friday night. It is PG-13. What would we do with Katie? We finally decided to take her with us, pending a long pre-movie discussion about the meaning of fiction. Just because a movie says it, don’t make it so.

Katie was exhausted by Friday evening. I felt sure she’d fall asleep by the time the previews were over. No way, Jose. She sat wide-eyed through the whole show. Except, of course, for the obligatory trip to the restroom halfway through. At what point did she hear the call of Nature? The point where Gandolf/Magneto explains to Sophia what exactly the Holy Grail is. Pretty pivotal point, eh? Yeah. She missed all that.

When we left the theater, we asked if she had any questions.

"Why were they looking for that lady?”

Insert long explanation of the Grail theories, Gnostic gospels, bits of archeological history and a generous dose of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table as well as additional harping on the difference between fact and fiction here. Did she have any other questions?

"Uh, what’s an ancestor?”

So, the good news is she asks questions. The bad news is she and Jackson and I all have such hugely different frames of reference. It’s like the kid who asks his dad where he came from. After listening to Dad’s halting, embarrassed, long-winded explanation of sexual reproduction, the kid says that’s really interesting ‘cause Johnny came from Cleveland. Yep. Just like that.

That which does not kill you...

Earl gets 19.46 miles per gallon.

Ouch.

I discovered this fact when Opie Capone and I took a road trip down south on Wednesday to pick up our wee grandmother from our parent's house where she'd been spending a few days.

She didn't used to be a wee grandmother. She used to be a damn good pool hustler, a crack shot with the .22 pistol and the world's best all-around southern cooking goddess. But now she is 84 and my grandfather has been dead for several years and she has become wee.

And that's ok.

On the way down I got really hungry and told Opie/Jonboy that we were stopping in Brownfield. I didn't make that up - Brownfield is the town's real name. I cannot think of any more aptly named place in the state, unless of course it is the real name of Fake Cow City. (If you're real curious about it, email me and I'll tell ya what it is.)

This is where we ate:

Oh, man, it was goooood. Its a bar-b-que joint right on the highway. If you ever go through there, stop and chow. When we rolled out the door and climbed back in the truck, Opie said "That was really good and it didn't even give me a headache."

"A headache? What are you talking about?"

"Don't you ever get a headache if you eat too much bar-b-que?"

"Uh, no."

After we picked up grandmother and headed back north toward home, I had to stop at the rest area just north of their town. I'd seen this sign on the way in:

It made me laugh.

Feelin' Friday

Its been a long and snotty week, resulting in a trip to the doctor. Trips to the doctor always result in dignity wrenching hillarity, don't they? Or is it just me? I will tell you about it when I can figure out how to do so without T.M.I. So, instead of anything cemetery-ish or otherwise entertaining, here is a bit of internetish fun:

spookyrach is a member of Murderers After Dark http://www.quizmeme.com/bandname/quiz.php

I feel certain Christopher Lowell would approve...

So, we decided to buy some furniture. A couple of years ago, we bought recliners. It was sort of a necessity since one of us couldn't sleep lying down. But the overall decorative effect was not the greatest, as you may well remember.

We needed a new couch so we bought a purple one. And believe it or not, the salesman did not lie. Cats really don't enjoy sharpening their claws on microfiber. They do, however, thrill themselves by shedding copious amounts of white and/or black fur on said purple couch.

We also bought the green Rachelounge. So named because Jackson claims he can't say chaise. It is way all cool in a fluffy art deco sort of a way. Excellent for reading. Well placed between the fire place and semi-fake sheepskin rug. (Its not supposed to be fake, but I can't see touting anything I bought on the home furnishings aisle of Sam's Wholesale Club as the real thing.)

Now, all we need are end tables. I wonder if I can convince Jackson that these are THE ONES.

Quaint, Unassuming, Highly-Functional and Generally Well-Accepted Tables.

There's no I in meme.

I am: tired. Very, very tired. But happy!
I want: to be more creative
I wish: Vincent Price had held on for six more days.
I hate: sad endings, boiled eggs, Kevin Costner, sunshine during the rain, and white cake
I miss: staying up long into the night, devouring a good book. Even if I were able to stay awake that long, my back would hurt and my hip would be killing me from sitting too long. How old is that?
I fear: getting stuck in my own world view, convinced that it is the best, most interesting, most right
I hear: excuses when I should be listening for reasons
I wonder: if it is safe to exhale
I regret: a few things, but all of them involve me not keeping my mouth shut or not speaking up
I am not: scared
I dance: in my head
I sing: poorly, but never better than when driving
I cry: about weirdly impersonal things - like coffee commercials. This started when I got my thyroid "fixed". Its so bizarre.
I'm not always: fun to be around
I make with my hands: little bits of art
I write: because of a teacher in high school. Among other things, she said my humor reminded her of Vince and Larry.
I confuse: Robert Duvall and Robert DeNiro
I should: be in bed by now
I start: on time
I finish: as soon as possible so I can go the hell home