The Invitation Arrived Early!

YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE: Ladies and gentlemen, I had been honored by a request to guest post later this week. The lovely, multi-talented and energetic renaissance woman who is Chef E has asked me to step in while she is on vacation. Chef, writer, teacher, author of six (six!) blogs, she has a lot of irons in the fire and enthusiasm to burn. I was flattered, and a little intimidated to be honest, when she asked me to guest on cookAppeal. She is persuasive, though, and I did get to write about one of my favorite things: FOOD.

I was scheduled to post up on Friday, July 19th. HOWEVER, due to an unexpected glitch, Chef E needed to fill a post slot TOMORROW, so she asked if she could pencil me in. Of course, I said yes. So, dear readers, please set your alarms, mark your calendars, make a note to visit me tomorrow over at cookAppeal! And while you are there, check out her blog, drop some comment luv and come hungry...so good, ya hurt yourself!

Old Man, Look at My Life, I Pick My Nose Like You Do

(What we have here is a nice ending to an accidental triad. A triad of stories that, by sheer kismet, or quantam flabbergastery or some other Supernatural skullduggery, ended up with a commone theme: the ages of man. The young(ish) man, the middle ager and now a delightful meditation on the Old Man and the Young Man. All brought to you by the magician, the coyote, the 'Kokopelli from Kentucky', my friend cIII from The Goat And Tater. Boy's got thunder in his head, he does...and pay no mind to his Shift Key Palsy. He still writes purdy - Irish Gumbo)

I have a Friend that asked me once if''n I was an "Old Person" type person or a "Child" person.

To be honest, the question took me aback for a second or two. I reckon I thought that if I answered on way I'd never get to involve myself with the Other ever again. But that is silly and a little bit foolish to think that a way. Anyway, I told her that I was a Child person. I reckon everyone likes to hear that. That you like Children and such. They're cute and squishy and they make funny noises and pick their nose allot. Kids do.

I recon those Old Timers, some of 'em, the ones which I like to associate myself, make funny noises and they sometimes pick their nose(s). But, more often than not, the Old Salts will let you in on some of the Secrets we've long forgot. If you'll listen for a spell. The will.

When I was a boy we had no access to "city water". The lines just didn't reach out that far.

Our water came from a Cistern that was filled by one of the Old Timers by the name of John. John would come every couple weeks and top off our Cistern and he and I would talk about this or that and he'd laugh about my Parachute pants and my Tony Hawk haircut. I'd laugh at his Shit Kicker boots and his bib overalls. And even though I would ask him every time "John. Can I have one of them Camels?" He'd grin and say, "What the hell do you want one of these goddamned things for?" To which I'd respond, "I dunno..." And then, every time, he'd say.."You sure as shit don't. Do you?"

John was a tobacco farmer more than a Waterman. And one Summer, and on through the Season, he worked me like a Dog in those fields. I'd come home blistered and sunburned. Tired in every inch of my body. Tired like you'd never get enough rest again in your Whole life. Tired you could drink from. Like a whole well of it. But at the end of every week, on Friday, he'd bring me up to the House and we'd have lunch and he'd give me some money. No checks. Cash type foldin' money. And he'd say, "honest pay for honest Work." And I'd say, "Yessir."

I don't reckon I know what the point of all that was. Just a boy and an Old Man sitting and talking.

John moved real slow. I think that's what I liked about him the most. He had a good piece of land, many Acres, and his income depended on the Stewardship of that land. But he wasn't pushy about it. Time weren't money to John. He never fought that ground when he turned it over ever Spring. I don't reckon he whispered Longfellow or Whitman, or Keats, or Thomas to it either. He just showed it the Respect that it deserved. And in turn, the Land reciprocated.

I don't live in some major Metropolitan area now. Even though John would call me "citied up". If your house was within yellin distance to another house John thought that was "citied up". No. The city I live in is big. It aint Los Angles or Chicago or hell, even Dover, Delaware big. But it's big enough to give me the Fear sometimes.

All that racin' around from place to place. Every goddamned face I see in the oncoming cars has a cell phone, maybe permanently, strapped to their faces. I think about John in those instances. I wonder what he would have made of all this. High speed this and lightning quick that.......I reckon he'd say, "Shit. The only thing that needs to be lightning quick is the goddamned Lightning." I'd bet my house that he'd a said that. And that makes me full-on belly laugh.

I still don't know what any of this means. There aint any philosophical Revelation I'm trying to make. And I damn sure am not trying to write a Manifesto of some sort. I don't want to go to the Bush in Alaska and live on what I shoot or catch with a hook. It sounds pretty enough, but if'n you've ever hunted for breakfast, well, it aint as pretty as it sounds. I figure I like the conveniences of the Modern world. Although, some of the bullshit that accompanies it, I could do without.

And I still don't know what any of this means.

I reckon I'm tryin to calm my Nerves a bit and I'm taking up your time going on about it trying to make myself relax, and for that I apologize.

Maybe, I'm trying to say that it's even alright to fall Behind. and for that I apologize as well. I never said I was a great Roll Model for impressionable folks. I really shouldn't be allowed around descent folk anyway.

Fuck. I don't know at all. And if'n John were still about he'd probly say, "You sure as shit dont. Do you?"

No I don't, John. But I figure I'm gettin close. So thanks for that.-

word.

The Goat and Tater: No, It's Not a New Restaurant Fad

Athough I guess it could be, maybe some sort of Caribbean-Middle Eastern-Irish fusion cuisine...I'll look into it.

Many thanks to Idiot Boy for such an uplifting...er, thoughtful and funny post. He gets you to thinkin' he does. Don't let the name fool you, he's all man. At least, I've heard that. (grin)

Someone else who makes you think, but in weird-good way, is cIII from The Goat and Tater. Please don't forget his turn at the plate is tomorrow, and what a fine treat to round out the week. He's got some magic, he does, and I am happy to have him as a guest. Shots of bourbon all around! Slainte!

Mr. Johnson, I’m Afraid We’re Going to Have to Let You Go

(I knew when I asked my pal Idiot Boy to bless me with a guest post, I could count on it to be funny, sharply observant and almost certain to involve the word "johnson". And my faith was rewarded! Behold, a keen little essay on Things We Dudes Don't Really Want To Talk About. Trust me, you'll laugh! - Irish Gumbo)

I have a physical exam scheduled for Tuesday of next week and I’m dreading it. Nothing good can come from a physical and the staff at the Doctor’s office does everything they can to prove to you this fact from the second you walk in the door. Everything from the 27 page sign-in forms, to the glacial pace at which the 13 patients waiting ahead of you are called, to the long wait in the chilly exam room when all you have on is a paper dress (open at the back), and the finger up the ass “prostate exam”, are all designed to remind you a visit to the Doctor’s office is but a sampling of hell.

That’s all horrible enough, but what I’m really concerned about is what the Doctor will tell me. He’s going to say I have high-cholesterol and high-blood-pressure. I know he will tell me this because it is the same thing he told me the last 3 times I have had exams. And, I know this time, he is going to very strongly suggest I start a treatment program which involves exercise (ugh), consuming a diet of hog-fuel, cardboard and broccoli (ugh!), and certain medications (UGH!).

I can get past the exercise and the fiber intake for the high-cholesterol; it’s the drugs for the high-blood-pressure that have me freaking-out. A friend of mine, who suffers from the same condition, has told me that his medications leave him…somewhat lacking…in the libido department. Worse, he actually has trouble, um….getting the bread to rise…on the rare occasions he finds himself even remotely interested in sex.

Upon hearing of this news, I immediately Googled up articles on high-blood- pressure meds and, what Doctors refer to as “Erectile Dysfunction”, or what I like to call, “The Death of Meaning and Purpose”. As it turns out, my fears are well founded. Apparently these “medicines”, while great at lowering blood pressure, also reduce blood flow to Mr. Johnson and therein lies the lack-of-rub.

This begs a fucking serious philosophical question (or is it a serious philosophical fucking question?) to whit:

Is there a point to living longer if you can’t continue to employ Mr. Johnson in the capacity for which he was hired?

Well, my wife thinks so.

“What do you think?” I asked. “According to the information, I’ll be less stiff than a garden hose on a hot summer day”.

“Wouldn’t you rather be alive?”

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t”.

“If you ask me, it’s a small price to pay”. She chuckled, then turned and walked away. I’m pretty- sure I heard her humming “Zippity-Do-Dah” as she left for the store (she said she needed to get some “D” batteries). Sometimes that woman can be just cruel.

So, I guess I’ll take the medication because, I “want” to be around to watch my son get married, and I am “looking forward” to playing with my grandkids, and I “hope” to escort my wife into her golden years, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…

Ah, Spring...And a Young Man's Fancy Turns to F@#!in' Yard Work...Or Something

(I am sort of glad when I wasn't in the same room with my friend Captain Dumbass when I asked him if he would please write a guest post for me. He was a bit distracted,a s you will read, and he's faster than me so I wouldn't have been able to duck. Plus, he has a badass dragon tat on his back. A cautionary tale for us all...Enjoy! - Irish Gumbo)

Do you ever wonder if the tree huggers are right? That a tree cries when you cut it down? Or that plants scream when they're uprooted? If they are, I hope there was a lot of screaming in my back yard today. I hope those little bastard weeds screamed themselves hoarse. I hope all their little weed friends heard them dying. I hope all the little weeds still waiting to break the surface heard too and understand their certain death if their damned heads break through the soil. Vengence is mine.

Ah, spring. My garden has been doing it's thing for awhile now, but today was the first day

*my wife just came into the room and is talking non-stop about some TLC show on woman who deliver babies and didn't even know they were pregnant and wait, no, now it's something about taxes and wanting to get organized now before... something. Probably going crazy and murdering her husband in her sleep*

the wind wasn't trying to uproot trees and the rain wasn't trying to physically hurt you, so it was time to drag my ass away from the computer and do some yard work.

*now my wife is making me check one of my bank accounts to find out how much interest I accrued last year. An account I only go into once a year because I use the money for car insurance so I can't remember my PIN number and have to reset it*

What was I talking about? Right, spring. I was trying to get to spring cleaning and how we do it in spring because the change in light allows us to see how much dust and spiderwebs have built up over the winter.

*Sweet Jesus! Now she's misplaced some statements and is losing her mind*

So...

*now she's reminding me of the year I shredded some vital piece of paper that she had to painstakingly tape back together again and how she cursed me the entire time*

I think I have a new idea for this post.

Woot! Woot! Set The Alarm Folks, Don't Want To Miss This!

A most interesting cross section of comments on the 'Lemons' post, dear readers, and thank you all for dropping by, current readers and new. I was a bit rusty on that one, but it sure felt good to shake off some of it. (And Kat, I just might put some vodka in my lemonade...or maybe some scotch, mmm....).

Don't forget, though, there is some real talent coming up! Captain Dumbass is my guest tomorrow, so please come on by. I had to promise him some liquor and some favors that shall remain undisclosed at this time (well, forever, anyway)(sheesh, can't a boy keep some secrets?) so make it worth my while...to borrow a phrase from Lady Braja, "the things I do for you people!"

Peace,

IG

The Creepin' Guest Postin' Blues

Well, friends and neighbors, boys and girls, dudes and dudettes and ambisexuals, it is that time again. As so often happens when the weather turns, finally tipping over from winter into spring like a slow putt dropping into the cup, ideas like crocuses begin popping up all over. Yours truly was lucky enough to have an idea that 1) I remembered long enough to write it down in my Idea Notebook and B) I actually found some time to write the post for it! Woot!

However, tonight is not that post. Tomorrow I will post it. This is just a teaser. See, I had this other brilliant idea (read: smacked my head into a door frame by accident) and that was to beg, plead, entreat* some of my bloggy buds to please please please for the love of all that is holy please write a guest post for me ImdesperateImdyinoverheah...

Be careful what you wish for. These guys said yes. Yes. Dear readers, I am pleased and honored and just plain tickled that I will have three guest posters this week, the creme de la scum, er, creme of the blogosphere, to dazzle and entertain us all.

For our edification and delight, Captain Dumbass of Us and Them, Idiot Boy at Idiot's Stew, and cIII at The Goat and Tater, have lain upon me some quality wordsmithing, which I will post over this week. The Captain is batting first, on Wednesday, April 8th. IB will follow on Thursday, April 9th. And cIII (provided I can get hold of him, where did that boy get to?) should be rounding out the week on Friday, April 10th.

My big idea, a mental aperitif, if you will, is slated for tomorrow. So please, get a drink from the big bar on the patio and come join me for some early spring hijinks here at Irish Gumbo!

Slainte!

*My bar tab is going to be sooooo big...these guys can drink like fish, and, well, I may have inadvertently said something about buying the first round...

Guest Postus Toastus: The Honor Is Mine

Hey, everyone! Hear ye, Hear ye!

Today I have the honor of guestposting over at The Dayton Time. The lovely Pamela a.k.a. 'The Missus' and wife of The Mister, graciously invited me over while they celebrate the birth of their 4th child, Elliott Samuel Dayton. So please stop by there, leave some love for them. Oh, and I wrote a post, too!

It's like Leno Taking Over From Carson, Almost. And She's Carson.

Well, kids, today is a special treat. It has finally happened. I am guest posting for the first time EVAH! I would go “SQUUUEEEEE!!!” but then I would lose all credibility as a dude. Well, the tiny shred I had left, anyway.

The lovely and intrepid Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow to Let in Crazytown very kindly asked if I could lay upon her a post whilst she spends some quality time with family, visiting her in England. Being the gentleman that I am (or at least, aspire to be) I most certainly could not turn down such a gracious request. What do I get in return? you may ask.

Why, I get the satisfaction of having helped out a lady, of course. Please drop in on us over there.

And for your edification and delight, here are some pictures of some of my favorite things:

FOAM ON THE GUINNESS, LATE DECEMBER AFTERNOON


BROTHER HERON, LATE WINTER AT THE LAKE


EASY STREET FLOWERBOX, NANTUCKET TOWN, FALL 2007