On a starry night in the spring of 1954, a dashing young doctor met a beautiful young nurse in the Skyway at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, and they danced. In November of 1954, they married, and through house fires, tornados, and three children, and a multitude of adventures, they laughed and loved, and lived a very good life. Saturday nights always ment steak. In the late 60's, Birthdays ment a trip to Shakey's Pizza. Saturday afternoons in the fall revolved around Ole Miss Football.
Sadly, the dance ended far too soon in November of 2000, when the now aged doctor went to his reward. The nurse spent the next 10 years shamelessly spoiling dogs and grandchildren. Miss Lady, a land shark masquerading as a poodle, frequently enjoyed breakfasts of scrambled eggs and sausage. Sleepovers at Nana's often found 6 kids in matching pajamas in front of the television set watching 'The Sound of Music'.
Saturday morning, two weeks ago, the nurse and the doctor danced again. We all will miss her, but she always loved to dance with the dashing young doctor.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Barbeque Magic
One of the really cool things about barbeque is that it will get you invited to into bars. Yes...invited to bars.
Of course, you have to bring a smoker and make a ton of ribs and chicken, but fact remains that a bar has asked you to come and party with them. For some of us, we are more accustomed to being asked to leave a bar than being asked to enter a bar, but that's another discussion all together.
Yesterday, we opened up the summer with a barbeque at KC's Korner in South Plainfield. They asked us to come and barbeque for them at Rootsfest. Rootsfest is a celebration of some sort and KC's, in conjunction with LNO Music, put together a whole day of music. Not lame ass suburban kids trying to be Alice Cooper and Lou Reed, but real Jersey rock.
After firing up the smoker at about 9:30, we barbequed 80 lbs of ribs, and 40 lbs. of chicken while rocking to The Doughboys covering the Moody Blues and the Stones. These guys are vintage rockers from the 60's and they play rock the way it is supposed to be played. They were on sometime in the mid afternoon.
Once again, today is the morning after the night before, and soon, I'll pack up the smoker and head to the soccer fields. We've been asked to barbeque for the soccer club.
The road goes on forever, and the party never ends.
Of course, you have to bring a smoker and make a ton of ribs and chicken, but fact remains that a bar has asked you to come and party with them. For some of us, we are more accustomed to being asked to leave a bar than being asked to enter a bar, but that's another discussion all together.
Yesterday, we opened up the summer with a barbeque at KC's Korner in South Plainfield. They asked us to come and barbeque for them at Rootsfest. Rootsfest is a celebration of some sort and KC's, in conjunction with LNO Music, put together a whole day of music. Not lame ass suburban kids trying to be Alice Cooper and Lou Reed, but real Jersey rock.
After firing up the smoker at about 9:30, we barbequed 80 lbs of ribs, and 40 lbs. of chicken while rocking to The Doughboys covering the Moody Blues and the Stones. These guys are vintage rockers from the 60's and they play rock the way it is supposed to be played. They were on sometime in the mid afternoon.
Once again, today is the morning after the night before, and soon, I'll pack up the smoker and head to the soccer fields. We've been asked to barbeque for the soccer club.
The road goes on forever, and the party never ends.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
May 17th, 1929
I heard him laugh just last week.
Catfish somehow failed to see a 6 foot umbrella in the yard, and destroyed both the umbrella and the hours old lawn mower. I heard him laugh, and I could see him tilt his head back just a bit, and look toward the sky as he chuckled. It was a 'I've been there, done that and bought the t-shirt' laugh. I haven't heard him laugh all that much in the last ten years, but he laughed at that. In his pale blue eyes, you could see memories of my many misadventures as a child..., and in the echo of the chuckles, you could tell he was enjoying this.
I remember, once I told him about something absurd that Catfish had done, he laughed a little and looked at me with smiling eyes, and said "Has he burned the house down yet?".
I had to answer 'No, sir. No, he hasn't.'
"Well, I'm one up on you then, aren't I?", he replied And he threw his head back just a little, and laughed. I laughed, too.
When he laughed, he laughed with his whole body. Sometimes, it was just his eyes. Sometimes you could tell when he was laughing just by the way he was standing, even when he wasn't making a sound, and sometimes, it was just that look in his eyes.
As my daughters grow older, and accomplish greater and greater things, I hear from him at graduations. He doesn't laugh at graduations, but I still know he'
s there. He smiles really big. He had two gold teeth way back in his mouth, and when each of girls graduated from college, I'll bet you could see both of them.
As Catfish experiences the teenage years, I suspect I'll hear from him more often. I know he's looking forward to this. I remember that he didn't laugh much when I sank a car, or when I skipped school and went hunting or fishing, but he will when Catfish does. I expect that I'll hear him on the sidelines at soccer matches, and in the crowd at school concerts. I'll hear him at the treehouse, and out by in the pool. He's always with us at barbeques.
Jennifer will be 24 years old on Monday, and he would have been 81.
RIP, Daddydoc.
Catfish somehow failed to see a 6 foot umbrella in the yard, and destroyed both the umbrella and the hours old lawn mower. I heard him laugh, and I could see him tilt his head back just a bit, and look toward the sky as he chuckled. It was a 'I've been there, done that and bought the t-shirt' laugh. I haven't heard him laugh all that much in the last ten years, but he laughed at that. In his pale blue eyes, you could see memories of my many misadventures as a child..., and in the echo of the chuckles, you could tell he was enjoying this.
I remember, once I told him about something absurd that Catfish had done, he laughed a little and looked at me with smiling eyes, and said "Has he burned the house down yet?".
I had to answer 'No, sir. No, he hasn't.'
"Well, I'm one up on you then, aren't I?", he replied And he threw his head back just a little, and laughed. I laughed, too.
When he laughed, he laughed with his whole body. Sometimes, it was just his eyes. Sometimes you could tell when he was laughing just by the way he was standing, even when he wasn't making a sound, and sometimes, it was just that look in his eyes.
As my daughters grow older, and accomplish greater and greater things, I hear from him at graduations. He doesn't laugh at graduations, but I still know he'
s there. He smiles really big. He had two gold teeth way back in his mouth, and when each of girls graduated from college, I'll bet you could see both of them.
As Catfish experiences the teenage years, I suspect I'll hear from him more often. I know he's looking forward to this. I remember that he didn't laugh much when I sank a car, or when I skipped school and went hunting or fishing, but he will when Catfish does. I expect that I'll hear him on the sidelines at soccer matches, and in the crowd at school concerts. I'll hear him at the treehouse, and out by in the pool. He's always with us at barbeques.
Jennifer will be 24 years old on Monday, and he would have been 81.
RIP, Daddydoc.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Sunshine State
Our last day in the Sunshine State dawned cloudy with gusty winds. Storms were due in from the south west by 9:00 AM, but we weren't concerned. We were pulling out at 7:30. We'd have long started our 9 hour journey on the road by the time the rain started.
So, we loaded the car. We double checked the condo to ensure that we didn't forget anything. We looked under the beds. We looked in the closets and drawers. We checked every electrical outlet in the place for the random electrical gadget. We climbed into the van, looked a last time upon the Gulf, and....the van wouldn't start. yannie yannie yannie yannie...no start. yannie yannie yannnie. oh shit. yannie yannnie yannie
The problem was clear. Moisture in the fuel. So, I walked to the Shell station and got some fuel dryer. At roughly 8:00, the van begrudgingly started, and we coughed and sputtered for about 20 minutes until we had burned through the last of the moisture, and we were on our way.
There are two routes to Jonesboro from Destin. One takes you through Mobile
Alabama, and the other takes you due north through Montgomery. Our navigational device selected the quickest route, which took us due north. Unfortunately, the navidational device does not consult the weather radar, nor does it consider that the filler hose for our fuel tank now allows road spray to enter our fuel tank. Water and gas are not a good combination. Roughly 30 minutes out of Destin, heading due north, we entered heavy storms. After about half an hour, enough water had made it's way into our fuel that the van was coughing and spitting, wheezing up every hill.
There is nothing quite like being in rural Alabama, in a thunderstorm, in a van with New Jersey tags, trying to drive with fouled fuel. When I say 'rural Alabama', let me clarify. We drove for 40 miles and saw nothing more than green grass, trees and cattle. We didn't even pass an intersection with another paved road. This was a two lane state highway, that we were apparently traversing alone....in a van that was despritly trying to die.
Finally, we came to a rural general store with a gas pump. A single gas pump that pumped 'gas' and 'diesel'. No credit cards. No ATM card. Cash only, so I stood in the driving rain adding some more STP Gas Treatment and putting $20 of gas in. In a matter of seconds, the van seemed to come off of life support, and again idled smoothly.
Having dried out the fuel, we set out on the road again in the pouring rain. We finally found an auto parts store where I bought three more bottles of STP Gas Treatment. Landi, combining the input from the navigational device and the weather radar, plotted us a course due west so that we would exit the deluge as soon as possible. So, we dodged storms and drove through Alabama on smaller and smaller roads, in a farting van with New Jersey tags.
Finally, somewhere in the hills of Alabama, in the county of Taladaga, we emerged into sunshine and blue skys. The van burned through the last of the water in the tank. The ride became smooth again, and after 11 hours on the road, we pulled into Jonesboro.
Jonesboro is in a dry country, but the hotel where we stayed has a 'private club' where you can get a cocktail. We sat down for dinner. I ordered a 'bourbon and water'. Five minutes later, the waitress approached the table. In her hands....a glass of water, and a shot of bourbon.
We're gonna need more bourbon.
So, we loaded the car. We double checked the condo to ensure that we didn't forget anything. We looked under the beds. We looked in the closets and drawers. We checked every electrical outlet in the place for the random electrical gadget. We climbed into the van, looked a last time upon the Gulf, and....the van wouldn't start. yannie yannie yannie yannie...no start. yannie yannie yannnie. oh shit. yannie yannnie yannie
The problem was clear. Moisture in the fuel. So, I walked to the Shell station and got some fuel dryer. At roughly 8:00, the van begrudgingly started, and we coughed and sputtered for about 20 minutes until we had burned through the last of the moisture, and we were on our way.
There are two routes to Jonesboro from Destin. One takes you through Mobile
Alabama, and the other takes you due north through Montgomery. Our navigational device selected the quickest route, which took us due north. Unfortunately, the navidational device does not consult the weather radar, nor does it consider that the filler hose for our fuel tank now allows road spray to enter our fuel tank. Water and gas are not a good combination. Roughly 30 minutes out of Destin, heading due north, we entered heavy storms. After about half an hour, enough water had made it's way into our fuel that the van was coughing and spitting, wheezing up every hill.
There is nothing quite like being in rural Alabama, in a thunderstorm, in a van with New Jersey tags, trying to drive with fouled fuel. When I say 'rural Alabama', let me clarify. We drove for 40 miles and saw nothing more than green grass, trees and cattle. We didn't even pass an intersection with another paved road. This was a two lane state highway, that we were apparently traversing alone....in a van that was despritly trying to die.
Finally, we came to a rural general store with a gas pump. A single gas pump that pumped 'gas' and 'diesel'. No credit cards. No ATM card. Cash only, so I stood in the driving rain adding some more STP Gas Treatment and putting $20 of gas in. In a matter of seconds, the van seemed to come off of life support, and again idled smoothly.
Having dried out the fuel, we set out on the road again in the pouring rain. We finally found an auto parts store where I bought three more bottles of STP Gas Treatment. Landi, combining the input from the navigational device and the weather radar, plotted us a course due west so that we would exit the deluge as soon as possible. So, we dodged storms and drove through Alabama on smaller and smaller roads, in a farting van with New Jersey tags.
Finally, somewhere in the hills of Alabama, in the county of Taladaga, we emerged into sunshine and blue skys. The van burned through the last of the water in the tank. The ride became smooth again, and after 11 hours on the road, we pulled into Jonesboro.
Jonesboro is in a dry country, but the hotel where we stayed has a 'private club' where you can get a cocktail. We sat down for dinner. I ordered a 'bourbon and water'. Five minutes later, the waitress approached the table. In her hands....a glass of water, and a shot of bourbon.
We're gonna need more bourbon.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Screw the Groundhog
Early December
It snowed last night, and our neighborhood looks like a Christmas card. The snow is absolutely beautiful on the houses and in the trees. I watched a couple of squirrels playing in the snow, and Dixie dog just loved running and playing in it. I love early snow because it means we're going to have a great winter for skiing.
Early Janurary
More snow. The snow blower won't start, but Catfish helped shovel the drive and the walks. It only took two hours to shovel out, and it was the light fluffy snow, so it wasn't too bad. Still haven't made it to the mountain to ski, maybe next week.
Early Feburary
The damn ground hog can kiss my ass. Another foot of snow fell on us. Catfish is hiding from me. He took my good snow shovel out, earned $20 shoveling someone's drive, and broke my damn shovel. I had to shovel our drive using a small shovel from the car. The damn dog is running back and fourth on the fronzen surface of the damn pool, and then tracking water into the house.
Late Feburary
More white shit is falling from the damn sky. They say we'll get a foot and a half. And, if that's not enough, it's the heavy heart attack inducing snow, and I am 100% confident that the damn snow blower won't start. No one has any snow shovels yet, so I'll be shoveling using the small shovel from the car. Catfish claims he's not strong enough to lift the heavy snow. Dixie is covered in mud from the wet sloppy snow, and has rolled on the white carpet. Chaunti and Tony Perez refuse to go outside and will either crap in the house or explode soon. Tell me again why I don't live in Destin, Florida...
It snowed last night, and our neighborhood looks like a Christmas card. The snow is absolutely beautiful on the houses and in the trees. I watched a couple of squirrels playing in the snow, and Dixie dog just loved running and playing in it. I love early snow because it means we're going to have a great winter for skiing.
Early Janurary
More snow. The snow blower won't start, but Catfish helped shovel the drive and the walks. It only took two hours to shovel out, and it was the light fluffy snow, so it wasn't too bad. Still haven't made it to the mountain to ski, maybe next week.
Early Feburary
The damn ground hog can kiss my ass. Another foot of snow fell on us. Catfish is hiding from me. He took my good snow shovel out, earned $20 shoveling someone's drive, and broke my damn shovel. I had to shovel our drive using a small shovel from the car. The damn dog is running back and fourth on the fronzen surface of the damn pool, and then tracking water into the house.
Late Feburary
More white shit is falling from the damn sky. They say we'll get a foot and a half. And, if that's not enough, it's the heavy heart attack inducing snow, and I am 100% confident that the damn snow blower won't start. No one has any snow shovels yet, so I'll be shoveling using the small shovel from the car. Catfish claims he's not strong enough to lift the heavy snow. Dixie is covered in mud from the wet sloppy snow, and has rolled on the white carpet. Chaunti and Tony Perez refuse to go outside and will either crap in the house or explode soon. Tell me again why I don't live in Destin, Florida...
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Night Before The Morning After
Though the cold February night air clearly said 'You are in New Jersey', inside it was nothing less than Bourbon Street at it's finest. Begining with supply runs to Restaurant Depot and the liquor stores a grueling day of cooking and drinking began to take shape. Bob Sanko and I arrived at the Sr. Citizens Center at roughly 1:00 to get the party started. As professionals, we knew how important proper preparation is to any party, so we immediatley had a cocktail, and began dealing with the trinity: Onions, Celery, and Bell Pepper. As the gumbo, jambalaya and shrimp etouffee began their journey to culinary heaven, Mr. Sanko and his trusty aide d'camp Joe Evans began preparing the drink that will forever be their trademark: The honest to God real thing....Pat O'Brian's Hurricane complete with Pat O'Brians glasses. Anyone can drink one, but if you have a second, you should probably check for new tattoos in the morning.
This was a fund raising event for the South Plainfield Soccer Club. Marshall's Dixieland Band provided the entertainment until roughtly11:00, at which time the folks who had two Hurricains took over. Roughly 60 people came, and enjoed the cajum contribution to the culinary arts. We had aboundant help in the kitchen, and wonderful participation from a lot of folks who don't even have kids playing soccer.
I don't know how much money we made, but I believe everyone had a good time. it's probably a good thing that we didn't do the henna tattoos over by the Hurricane bar because there would be a lot of people with a headache and a new tattoos this morning.
On a more serious note, I shared my bourbon with the kitchen staff, and my supply was exhaused by 8:00pm. As a result, I was sober the entire night. Of the 60 some odd people there, I was the only completely sober person there.
Yeah...I know....but, that was the night before the morning after the party.
This was a fund raising event for the South Plainfield Soccer Club. Marshall's Dixieland Band provided the entertainment until roughtly11:00, at which time the folks who had two Hurricains took over. Roughly 60 people came, and enjoed the cajum contribution to the culinary arts. We had aboundant help in the kitchen, and wonderful participation from a lot of folks who don't even have kids playing soccer.
I don't know how much money we made, but I believe everyone had a good time. it's probably a good thing that we didn't do the henna tattoos over by the Hurricane bar because there would be a lot of people with a headache and a new tattoos this morning.
On a more serious note, I shared my bourbon with the kitchen staff, and my supply was exhaused by 8:00pm. As a result, I was sober the entire night. Of the 60 some odd people there, I was the only completely sober person there.
Yeah...I know....but, that was the night before the morning after the party.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
