Similar to my post from November, 2005 about Terrell Owens and also a lot like Fart.jpg and (one of my personal favorites) Farted.jpg, my post from last week about Judge Roy Pearson garnered hundreds of search hits for the ol' blogsitething. Hell, if you searched for the judge's name via Google, Son of Cheese was on the front page of results within an hour of the original posting. Goddamn, Google must like me...Anyhow, unlike the Terrell Owens post, the Judge Roy post wasn't picked up and linked by any major news outlet (certainly due to my gratuitous use of foul language) and unlike the two farty pictures, most of these search hits didn't yield too many page views or "time spent." Hell, out of the hundreds of hits I received thanks to my poorly crafted rant, I ended up with a mere 7 comments, all from people whom I know. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I just find it interesting...

And speaking of "interesting..."

I think I've mentioned before that some of the things which my mother will blurt out while we're playing cards or board games are instant blog fodder gold. A couple of weeks ago, it was the bear hibernation butt-plug thing (which, as it turned out, she was right about). This past Saturday, while we were all playing a rousing game of Uno Hearts, we got to talking about Carson, the pansy-ass, I'm-afraid-of-thunder dog which belongs to Collin and my sister. After talking briefly about how much Carson the dog barks at things, my mom said, bluntly, "I heard somewhere that dogs won't bark at retards."

We were stunned. I personally nearly fell off my chair. Hey, also, if your hand's bigger than your face, you have cancer...

Now, I'm fully aware that dogs have a keen sense of smell. Hell, certain breeds, it's said, have the unique ability to sniff out cancer...But mental retardation? Does that have a smell? Is it similar to "fear," which I was always told that dogs can smell as well? And hey, why WOULDN'T the dog bark at the slow kid or chase the short bus? Does the dog not want to alarm these unpredicatble people? Please to enlighten. I wonder if this post will get me search hits...God, I hope not.

Anyhow, I just thought that little snippet was worth sharing. You kids have a fine Tuesday now and remember: if the dog isn't barking at you...Well...

Labels: lame stories, stuff mom's done

Hey there, thanks for stopping by...Say, do you happen to have approximately 8 minutes and 49 seconds to spare? Well, if you do, you should stay and watch today's video...It just so happens to be highlights from a rousing game of Curses filmed a little over a month ago. While said video may be a bit long, it does feature some rather unpredictable (and even funny) moments which you may just find to be worth the time. Speaking of which, here it is:
you know, if you really want to understand what's happenin', headphones would be in order.

As always, thanks for stopping by. You kids have a great weekend now...

Labels: all those funny voices, collin crap, indignities, stuff mom's done, vaunted videoblogs

The old saying is "good things come to those who wait." I'm not sure who started using that phrase, except that I'm almost sure that whomever it was worked slower than most other folks in town. No matter what, people are always ready to spin their faults into some sort of false positive...Bastards...Anyhow, the reason that I'm trying to spin my faults by using that tired old phrase here at the beginning of this blog entry is simple: Foot, your wait is over...Here's the video of mom playing Wii Sports..
Oh, yeah...The rest of you can watch it too, it's not just for her...Seriously, you might get a kick out of it.

So there's that...As always, thanks much for stopping by...You kids have a great weekend, now...

Labels: geekery, stuff mom's done, vaunted videoblogs

Holy crap, it's Friday already. Not just any Friday, either...No no, this happens to be the final Friday prior to the Christmas holiday. It also happens to be the Friday following a big blizzard which shut things down for a day or so in our neck of the woods. With all that said, one would think that since I'm busting out the Phrickin' Phriday Photoblog for you fine folks today, that the theme of said photoblog would either be "Christmas" or "Blizzard Pictures" or both. Of course, if one WOULD have thought that, one would be wrong...

See what happens when you try and assign reason to any of my actions?

Anyhow, my mom recently acquired a digital camera and, being that she has trouble with all things electronic, the pictures which she's taken to this point with said digital camera have stayed safely on the digital camera. A couple of days ago, I took her digital camera and got the pictures which were on it so that I can share some of the images with you. I SHALL DELAY NO LONGER! On with the pictures!
you clicky, they biggy. Or something like that...


My parents got themselves a new cat. Well, the cat isn't new, but...Well, look...Someone died, sadly, and my mom and dad took custody of the guy's cat. The cat's name is Abby and, as you can see here, Abby likes my wife. At least, Abby likes my wife well enough to allow my wife to pet her.


Abby likes to hang out on the back of one of the two large recliners that my parents have in their living room. When I'm visiting, I also like to hang out in one of the aforementioned chairs, albeit not on the back...As you can see here, Abby begrudgingly agreed to share the chair with me (though she wasn't too happy about it).


Even Walmart sells cool stuff...Here's my wife, myself and my mother all decked out in our Denver Bronco Themed baseball style jerseys. The back even has the number and name of 1 of 3 "popular" Bronco players...My wife was smart enough to get the John Lynch jersey while my mom and I ended up with Jake Plummer...Indeed, we purchased these before Jay Cutler took over as the starting quarterback in the Mile High City...As I tell people now, the placekick holder has ALWAYS been my favorite player...


MEEEEEAAAAT! Are those brains? NO! They're what's left over from the lamb shank I had been trimming up. Lot's of fatty goodness in that pile, believe me. Soon after this picture was taken, I threw that big mess into the trash.


Hey, good to see ya, where ya from? This was one of the first pictures taken on mom's camera...How sad is that?


By popular demand, we're going back to displaying cat pictures...In this photo, you can see Abby in her plotting perch, plotting...Um...Something...Something nefarious, to be sure...Just look at those shifty eyes! Shifty eyed cats can't be trusted...


Finally we have an example of the fact that when Abby demands attention, she won't give up until you give in. Here we see my mom trying in vain to ignore the cat who, as per usual, got what she wanted through sheer intimidation (also: cuteness).

So there's that...I likely won't get around to posting anything else before the Christmas holiday, so I would like to wish all of you a happy holiday season, regardless of what you celebrate. As always, thanks for stopping by - have a great extended weekend!..

Labels: Cat Pictures, Phrickin' Photoblogs, sports, stuff mom's done

And so, while the sleeping giant that is the phrickin' photoblog continues to lie dormant, I shall thrill you kids with quite possibly the lamest of the Friday posts...That's right, I'm going to acknowledge a "tag" from another blogsitething...See, Mark Maynard (whom I've never really read) "tagged" our old buddy Collin (even though he linked him incorrectly when he did it) on this and, ever the dilligent little monkey, Collin tagged me. As you well know, I usually dismiss such "tags" with a disdainful wave of my (mighty) hand but...Well...Since I have nothing else for you today...Let's get this over with...
*ahem*
Derek Knight Presents: Five Things You Likely Do Not Know About Me

1. I love the smell of gasoline.
Now, don't start shouting to your significant other (or your 17 cats) "hey, that cheese boy is a gas huffer!" I am decidedly NOT a gas huffer, I simply find the smell of gasoline to be enjoyable if not (dare I say) comforting. It's hard to explain, really, I guess that my earliest recollection of enjoying the smell of gasoline was when I was maybe 3 or 4, sitting in the backseat of the family's 1969 Dodge Coronet while my mom filled up (likely at the Skelly station on Main street which is now...What is it, a Walgreens?). I think I even mentioned that I liked the smell that was emanating from the pump to my mom who, with a horrified look on her face, instructed me never to smell gas again...That clinched it, of course...The sultry smell of 85 octane was the forbidden fruit of my youth...

2. I worked at a strip joint.
But I was young and I needed the money. Seriously, when I was 19 (maybe 20) and working at a local radio station, one of the other DJs (a real dickhead named Randy) told me that he was picking up extra money DJing at a place called Jerry McNasty's. He then told me that they were short staffed and that I should go talk to "Chucker," who hired all the DJs there...Even though I was underage (I stopped getting carded when I was 17), I agreed to go talk to this "Chucker" and see about playing music while chicks that I likely went to high school with shook their c-section scars for immigrant construction workers on lunch break...Chucker turned out to be a shaky paraplegic radio-jock-turned-strip-club-DJ with a bad attitude. Despite all that, he hired me on the spot and, for one day (I just couldn't handle the crust of despair that was all over McNasty's) I was a strip club DJ. "Get your hands out of your pockets and your tip dollars ready, Gentlemen! Here comes long-legged, lovely ROCHELLE! No, really...Get them out of your pockets..."

3. I'm actually an only child.
My sister was adopted. Oh, sure, she'll refute this up and down (as will my parents) but don't listen to them. Sister. Adopted. All the way.

4. I have one of the worst speech impediments I've ever heard.
I'm not kidding about this. When I was 5 and first in school, I (like all the other students) was put through a battery of tests...Being the sharp little bastard that I am, I aced all of them with the exception of the speech test. My mom was told by the individual administering said speech test that I had a "click" in my speech and that I needed speech therapy which, of course, I took part in for at least 4 years during school. I never did get over this "click" that the school identified, mostly because I couldn't actually hear it and nobody would TELL me where my specific problem area was. After all this, I largely forgot about my speech problems until I was 18. While recording some off-the-cuff parody songs with a friend of mine, I heard on the playback (for the first time, mind you) that damn "click" that the school personnel had identified so many years earlier. When I heard it, I was devastated...I suddenly realized that I sounded idiotic, I couldn't say "ch" or "sh" sounds without mashing those sounds up into a spitty mess...For the first time in my life, it was terribly clear why the Speech lady at my elementary school had told my mom that I'd never EVER be able to participate in any form of public speaking...As you can imagine, I was horribly self conscious from that point on about my speech and, even after getting a job at a local radio station, I couldn't seem to shake my impediment...I tried to simply avoid saying things like "chubby checker" or "chuck berry" but it was no use. I tried every possible remedy I could think of to no avail until one day I realized that, if I substituted a "ts" sound for the "ch" sound and said it quickly, I suddenly sounded less idiotic if not damn near normal...In a single moment of clarity, I had identified the specific part of my mouth that caused my stupidly specific speech problem! I admit, It took a good long while to retrain myself, but now I speak with both clarity and confidence. Since "fixing" my speech impediment, I've not only worked on-air on (at least) 5 radio stations here in town but I voice commercials for radio and television which run in just about every media market in the country and I've been a public address announcer for a professional hockey team...Never going to be able to speak in public, my ass...

5. I tried, but failed, to get on Jeopardy®
A few years ago, I visited the Jeopardy website and saw that, at some point, they were going to hold contestant tryouts in Denver. Ever the eager nutcase, I registered for the chance to try out and then promptly forgot about it. A few months later, though, I got a call from the Jeopardy people telling me that I was randomly selected to participate in the big contestant search. Believe me, when I heard that, I was elated! I agreed to be at the Downtown Westin at whatever given time on whatever given day to be part of their testing. The deal is, you (and a hundred of your closest friends) first take a written test (of sorts). Those that pass said written test then go on to play a mock game of Jeopardy and THEN, those who succeed at that portion are placed into a "contestant pool" for whatever season is upcoming. I felt that it was a foregone conclusion that I'd succeed in all phases of the testing and, leading up to test day, I would play Jeopardy at home, tracking my correct answers and, essentially, continuing to feel confident. The day of the testing came and, even though I was absolutely sure that there were no possible scenarios wherein I could fail, after the written test when the chubby producer fellow called the names of those who would move on to phase two, mine was not among them. I have to say, even though I stayed calm and didn't show it, I hadn't felt so devastated since...Well, I don't even know when. I learned a valuable lesson from that day, though...Well, I learned a couple of things...First: don't get your hopes up. Second: READ CHARLES GODDAMN DICKENS! You never know when someone is going to ask you a STUPID Dickens question...SHIT! DAMMIT! AAAAAAAAAA. Er...Ah...Yeah. So that's it.

And yes, that really is it, 5 things that you didn't know about me. Likely, 5 things that you didn't care to know about me either but hey, it's Collin's fault for tagging me, right? I plan to NOT tag anyone for this little assignment, mostly because I love to watch things like this die. DIE A SLOW DEATH, 5 THINGS POST! So yeah, thanks for stopping by today...You kids have a great weekend now...

Labels: collin crap, Done Got Tagged, indignities, lame stories, me roots, pointless shit, radio stories, stuff mom's done, tales of triumph

And so, in honor of the wife and I's 6th wedding anniversary this past weekend, my parents treated us to dinner at Elway's, a restaurant which is co-owned by the hall-of-fame Broncos quarterback John Elway and is located in the Cherry Creek neighborhood of the Denver Metropolitan Area. Outside of my parents telling me that it's an enjoyable place to eat (they had the opportunity to dine at Elway's some months back courtesy of my aunt and uncle), the reviews I sought out suggested that it's a casual type of steakhouse with a homey sort of feel. Once we arrived at Elway's, I found those assertions to be near complete bullshit (the place, in my opinion, is appointed rather lavishly with rich wood, large artsy light fixtures and some really attractive stone work). Outside of that outright lie, I did find that the service at Elway's was excellent, the menu (both food and drink) to be just diverse enough and the food (which is the most important part) to be top-notch. I'll break our recent Elway's experience down for you crazy kids...now:

Reservations are recommended (but surprisingly easy to make)...
Since we were dining on a Saturday evening, it was understood that we wouldn't be able to get a seat at Elway's without a reservation (actually, reservations are required every day of the week, I'm told). Luckily, straight from the restaurant's website, you have the option of making a reservation online (yes, I said ONLINE) at a neat little website called opentable.com. The process was quick and easy and, as we found out, reliable. The only reason that we had to wait any significant amount of time to be seated at Elway's was due to the fact that we showed up way early. The front-of-house staff at Elway's, in my opinion, is professional and courteous and did a fine job of sorting through the multitude of guests who were waiting in various places (including the bar, which was mostly packed and featured live entertainment) and getting said guests seated in a timely fashion.

Now, You Mentioned Something About The Menu Earlier...
Once we were seated (comfortably, in my opinion), we had a chance to take a look at the menu. I'd already glanced at it online prior to our arrival but it was still a bit challenging to select a meal. Now, I don't mean it was challenging in a "I don't like any of this stuff" way, I mean it more of a "crap, I want to try ALL of this stuff" way. Our table enjoyed two appetizers (just a tip from me to you: appetizers at Elway's are designed for 3 people. No more, no less. Three shall be the number of pieces on an appetizer plate at Elway's and the number of the appetizer items shall be three) since we numbered 4: Coconut shrimp (not bad) and lamb fondue (excellent). The coconut shrimp wasn't necessarily what you might expect (unless you've had the coconut shrimp appetizer at the Elephant Bar. In that case, it'd be exactly what you might expect). There were three large shrimp on bamboo skewers, battered in a coconut...um...batter and fried, served with a nicely spicy dipping sauce and accompanied by a half-coconut filled with some sort of fruity slaw. The lamb fondue consisted of three small sections of a lamb-rack, seasoned and cooked a a perfect rare and accompanied by seasoned croutons and roasted sweet potatoes, all of which were to be dipped into a warm green pepper cheese sauce which I found to be (frou-frou word alert) exquisite. Hell, I could've ordered a couple more lamb fondue appetizers and been set for the evening BUT...There was more to come...

When Everything is Ala Carte, WHY NOT Order Soup and Salad?..
And yes, before we go any further, everything on the menu at Elway's (keeping with the standard at your typical steakhouse) is ala carte. Faced with this, I decided to not order soup or a salad but, unbeknownst to my wife or myself, my parents slipped in their orders while ordering their meals (why the Hell not, they were paying). Dad ordered a house salad (which looked a little too "mixed greens" for my taste but he said that it was good) with bleu cheese and my mom ordered the chicken corn chowder which arrived impressively thick and (thankfully for me) a little too spicy for my mom's liking. Due to this development, I was allowed to eat most of the chicken corn chowder and found it to be quite enjoyable. Unlike most chowders featuring chicken, there were ample pieces of what tasted like mesquite roasted chicken leg meat, corn, potatoes and other chowdery things. If you're planning on making a trip to the Mile High City and have now penciled in "eating at Elway's" on your to-do list, DO NOT SKIP THE CHOWDER! Seriously, it was quite awesome...

Have I Mentioned that Elway's is, in fact, a Steakhouse?..
So following the appetizers and the salad and the chowder and the drinks (oh, I didn't mention drinks? Very nice bar list, to be sure), the logical next step would be our entrees and OH MY GOD, Elway's did not disappoint. I ordered the 22oz porterhouse cooked rare and while I won't go so far as to say it was the best steak I've ever had, it was very close to taking that title. Seasoned wonderfully and cooked to perfection, my steak was tender and flavorful. I had a twice-baked potato as my side which I found to be quite enjoyable. My dad also had the porterhouse while my wife and my mother both had the filet (and my mom did say that her steak was "the best steak she'd ever had.") Other sides at the table included the fries (significantly better than you'd think they'd be), asparagus (the wife complained that it wasn't quite cooked enough) and au gratin potatoes which myself, my mom and my wife all agreed were the best side at the table. Holding out for dessert, I didn't finish my steak or my potato but, after being boxed up by the staff, my potato (dun dun DUNNNN) mysteriously disappeared. In the future, I shall be more clear as to my potato-related intentions, to be sure...

And Speaking of Dessert...
The dessert menu at Elway's has some typical items and some which are not so typical including warm cookies with milk and assemble yourself s'mores. My dad chose the Key Lime Pie (which was actually a small individual pie, not a mere slice), mom chose the brownie lollipop (the smallest dessert I've ever seen) and the wife and I shared warm cookies and ice cream. Outside of the strangely small (*cough* RIPOFF) brownie lollipop, the desserts we sampled were very rich and flavorful, certainly a fine way to cap off such a memorable and enjoyable meal...

And Here's The Part About How We're Just Not Cut Out For Fancy Eatin' Joints...
Before we left, both my wife and my mother made a trip to the restroom. My wife arrived back at the table first and informed us that at Elway's, in addition to the unique sinks and the automatic faucets and soap dispensers, mouthwash was available to freshen your mostly foul breath. My mom, upon her return to the table, looked a bit embarrassed and said "you know, I'm just not cut out for these kinds of places."

"What, did you wash your hands with the mouthwash?" I asked, jokingly.

Turned out, she had. Her hands DID smell fresh and clean for the ride home, though...

So to sum up, if you're looking for an attractive and comfortable restaurant where you can simultaneously enjoy a great steak and impress your date with minty-fresh hands (and you happen to be in the Denver Metro Area), put Elway's at the top of your list...I doubt you'll be disappointed (unless you're just some jerk who doesn't like the Broncos and, in turn, doesn't like Johnny Elway 'cause he likely engineered a brilliant 4th quarter drive to beat your favorite team at some point...If this is the case, see if you can find a restaurant named "Kosar's" or "Favre's." Eat there, you losers). I give Elway's an enthusiastic "A" and definitely plan on enjoying their food again. Well, if they'll let my kind back into such a swanky joint, that is...

Labels: I eat food, lame stories, sports, stuff mom's done

Hey, it's the Wednesday after Halloween (in this case, directly after Halloween, it's TOTALLY All Saint's Day) and, much like last week, if you listen to today's awesomecast, you'll be treated to the same group as last week spilling supernatural stories and torrid tales of the afterlife (in vivid mono). So clicky!

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, dad's stories, podcasts, spooky shit, stuff mom's done

Oh holy crap, it's Wednesday AND it's less than a week until All Hallow's Eve! As such, we got together (the 'we' in this case includes myself, my wife, everyone's old buddy Collin, my mother AND my father. Oh, and even my sister. A packed house, to be sure) and related some of our favorite ghosty stories for your collective spooky enjoyment. So enjoy:

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, dad's stories, podcasts, spooky shit, stuff mom's done

Welcome to Friday, kids! That's right, it's that awesome "end of the workweek" day where you know that NOT ONLY do you not have to work tomorrow (at least I know that I don't have to work tomorrow) but you know that you'll be able to bear witness to (yet another) Phrickin' Photoblog just by stopping by this odd little blogsitething. "No way," you say? Ha! You'll see! Oh, how you'll see...I'll show YOU...

I'll...um...Show you pictures! Right! Of our big bowling excursion from a couple of weeks ago! See, at some point, a local bowling alley contacted the store which my mom manages and told her that, if her employees and their families wanted to come out on a specific Sunday at a specific time, we could all BOWL FOR FREE! For like...TWO HOURS! Now, I know what you're thinking: "It sounds like a trap!" I was slightly skeptical as well but...As it turned out, it wasn't a trap! Hell, I even ended up winning 6 free games in a raffle! So regardless of the bowling alley's intention, all they got out of my being there was the privilege of giving me "free stuff"...Oh, yeah...And I ended up with pictures for today's photoblog (which commences right the Hell now)...
click=big


You know what happens when you go bowling with me? I bring a camera. I then wait to USE said camera until you (whomever you may be) turn around following the rolling of the ball so that you (again, whomever) get caught "unawares." Here we see that my mom has dropped 7 of the possible 10 pins there at the end of the lane. Chances are, on her next ball, she picked up the spare. She's a pretty good bowler...


Here we see my wife, not caught AS unawares as my mother, after having dropped 8 pins. I couldn't tell you whether she picked up the spare or not, but doesn't she look serious with her Iron Mike Sharpe-style wrist brace?


HOLY SHIT! IT'S A GIANT BEE! RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!


Ah, yes, getting back to the bowling action, we see our protagonist, obviously perturbed at having knocked down only 7 of the available 10 pins. Surely, my perturbation is due to the fact that I knew that I likely would not pick up the spare. I start slow...Also, I don't roll the ball terribly "straight." Anyhow...


Here's mom and dad, hangin' out at the bowling alley. Don't they look HAPPY?..


..Well sure they do, but not nearly as happy as I look! ha HA! Here I am, hangin' out with dad between frames. Dad was actually giving me advice like "maybe try not to roll the ball so damn hard. You're not trying to shatter the pins, you're just trying to knock them over." Oddly enough, that advice worked! I started knocking down a great number of pins AND even picking up spares after that! No more perturbed faces for me THAT night! No way, not after dad's bowling coaching...

So anyway, there you go: a brief glimpse into just how fun a night of free bowling can be. As always, thanks for stopping by...You all have a fine weekend now...

Labels: dad's stories, Phrickin' Photoblogs, sports, stuff mom's done

Hey hey, it's podcast AWESOMECAST day! This week's episode features my mother as the in-studio guest and the topic, predictably, is the 4th of July. I won't go so far as to say that today's episode is an instant classic, but it's worth taking a listen anyhow...

So there's that...Thanks for stopping by and have yourselves a fine Wednesday...

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, holidays, podcasts, stuff mom's done

Aww damn! Is it Friday again? Well Hell, I guess it's time for me to bust out (yet another) Phrickin' Photoblog for your collective visual pleasure. I know, I know...I've been incredibly lax when it comes to the posting of photos on Phridays recently BUT ALL THAT IS ABOUT TO CHANGE...Indeed, I shall now right those past wrongs in a rapid fashion 'cause today, I gots pictures to share! Woo hoo!

Today's collection of images are ones which were captured during our most recent Awesomecast recording session. Indeed, due to logistics constraints, the wee podcast which Collin and I put together has to be pre-recorded (we try to do three shows in one sitting) and then stitched together by me after the fact. The pictures which you are about to see illustrate episodes of the Son of Cheese Half-Hour Power Hour which have yet to "air" so, if'n you're one of the 3 or 4 people who actually LISTEN to the stupid thing, you now know what "in-studio guests" to expect on future shows...Anyhow, enough of my babbling...Let's get to them photographs, shall we?..
You clicky, they biggy. Or somethin'.


Starting off with the podcastin' pics, we see my mother, listening intently to my completely unfounded allegations as the imposing head of Collin looms large to her right. Observe my mother's rock-like concentration! NOTHING could distract her from the task at hand...Not even flash photography...


And here I am, not so much talking as SHOOTING LASERS FROM MY EYES! I can do that, you know...Well, it's either lasers or the fact that I'm too lazy to fix the redeye in the photo. I like "lasers" better, sounds less "lame." So yeah, lasers. From my eyes. Just watch yourself.


Here we see that my stupid puny eye lasers have no effect on my mother! Indeed, she treats them and me with utter disdain as she once again listens to my false allegations about her...Of course, without FALSE allegations, we wouldn't have much to talk about, now would we?


Aaaand, we're through chatting with my mom...Here we see my dad as he brings Collin and myself both immeasurable joy (also: mirth) with the retelling of some of the most horrific childhood stories ever...EVER!


And here we see me trying very hard not to piss myself as dad elaborates on some of his childhood misfortune. Maybe I'm just biased, but he can really tell a story...I can't wait until that episode airs, it's gonna be awesome...

So anyhow, there you all are: a quick peek behind the scenes (so to speak) of the big Awesomecast...As always, thanks for stopping by...You all have a fine weekend...

Labels: awesomecasts, collin crap, dad's stories, Phrickin' Photoblogs, stuff mom's done

Hey, would ya look at that: It's Friday again! Yeah, yeah...I know that this week was one of those "short weeks" so I shouldn't seem so "shocked"...Still, regardless of the sincerity (or lack thereof) surrounding my "shock," it IS Friday and, due to the very VERY fine print on the back of the Mayflower Compact (it's like TOTALLY there, I swear), I am contractually obligated (by Royal Warrant, no less) to provide all of you (fine) individuals with the display known only as Phrickin' Photoblog Phriday (dun dun DUNNNNNN)....How them wacky pilgrims knew about the internets way back in 1492...I'll never know...

Anyway...

Today's exhibition of picturey goodness features images which were stolen (like so many souls from so many...um...of "those people who believe about the whole soul stealing business") during the recent Christmas holiday...This year, the big yuletide festivities "were goin' down" at my parents' home and featured food and presents and games and fun and things of that nature...I shall dally no longer, for I know that you are eager to get to the "meat" of today's post, so to speak...BRING ON THE MEAT!..clicky, they get beeeeger


Speaking of "meat" (we were), here's a picture of my dad, sternly advising me to not touch the turkey which had recently come out of the oven. Additionally, I was not to look at said turkey, nor even THINK about (said) turkey, lest I suffer some unnamed (yet surely terrible) fate. Verily, I thought about the turkey before strolling straight over and touching that turkey once I was done taking this picture...


Ahh, yes...It just ain't Christmas until someone starts mainlining the aerosol cheese product...Here you can see my wife preparing to squirt the "Squeezy Cheez" stuff straight into her piehole...C'mon, not in your mouth, ON THE CRACKERS! Oh, now the guests won't have enough hors d'oeuvres...Dammit...


Just as a point of "interest," my mother LOVES decorating for holidays...One of the strangest little decorations that she has up has got to be this...disturbing little santa/tree hybrid monster...Luckily she had this freakish item tethered securely to the stair railing...OBSERVE THE SURLY EXPRESSION ON IT'S TINY FACE! indeed, if not tied down, it would wait for you to doze off and then surely wreak it's tiny, evil havoc all over you...I shudder to think about such things...


Moving on now, to the "opening of the presents" segment of our Christmas holiday, we find a conglomerate of appreciative gift getters. Starting at the top right, we have my wife who is (proudly) displaying a gag gift from her sister, a plush gingerbread...um..."thing" which gyrates as it belts out the tune "I want Candy"...To the right is yours truly, displaying the Axe deodorant which I received from my grandmother...Surely, the ladies will be so attracted to my new scent that I shall have to bludgeon them all with sticks just to keep them at bay...Bottom left is my sister, pleased as she can be to have received...um..."something" and finally, bottom right, there's my mom...She's happy because she got tickets to see Bon Jovi in February...Rock on, mom...


Just as an aside, this here is Collin's kid Justin, displaying one of the books that he got from me and my wife. LOOK AT THEM SPOOKY DEVIL EYES!


Gettin' back to more of that "present openin' action" that we all love, top right is my aunt Mary Beth, to her right is my uncle Ray, bottom left is my grandma Lila and bottom right is my dad..."Ooh, I got booze!" "Hey, I got booze too!" "Kick ass, I got a coffee maker!" "Aww, man...I got a rock."


Finally, we close out today's Christmas-soaked photographic exhibition with what I like to call "shock and awe: 2005." Top left is my wife, giving us an "oh no you di'nt" face when she finds out that we'll be going to St. Louis in April for "Al Macinnis night" at the Savvis Center (she's a big Blues fan)...Next up, to the right, is my mom acting completely shocked because we got her the newest "Catch Phrase" game...She loves that Catch Phrase...I don't know why, but she just loves that stinkin' game...Next up, bottom left, grandma is surprised by...Something in a bag...And then, to the right of that, is Collin's other kid Jordyn, elated at the billions of stickers that she received...Go crazy, kid...

So that's that...I hope that you all had a pleasant holiday season and also hope that you're all already having one of those "happy new year" things. Until next time, thanks for stopping by...Have a fine weekend...

Labels: collin crap, dad's stories, holidays, Phrickin' Photoblogs, stuff mom's done

And welcome, once again, to that day of days: the one which all the kids call "Friday." Of course, this "Friday" happens to be the one where we find ourselves on the eve of Christmas eve, only 2 days away from celebrating the birth of Christ (or the coming of Santa Claus or whatever it is that you do, I can't be troubled with figuring out what all of you out there believe). Anyhow, today (as you would suspect) I have more photos for your viewing pleasure...Why? BECAUSE! It's Phrickin' Photoblog Phriday, man! Today's theme? WORD TO YOUR (MY) MOTHER...So here we go...when you click on 'em, they'll inflate so that your poor, fatigued eyeballs can more clearly make out the details


What better way to start off today's mom-themed photoblog than with a shot of her cooking dinner in the shanty where her and dad lived when they first came to town way back in 1969? Dig those glasses! You know, the back of the picture says "cooking dinner," but, now that I give it a better look, it doesn't appear as if there's as much "cooking" going on as "glaring." But what do I know, right?..


Here's my mom posing for a picture alongside her mother-in-law (outside of that same shanty I mentioned) in 1970. Aww, the whole scene makes you want to hum the Turtles' hit "So Happy Together," doesn't it? Yeah, you better believe it, they're the BEST of friends...


So, when my mom and dad first came over to Colorado Springs from Grand Junction, mom worked (for a little while) at a place called Fox Photo. That's where this picture was taken during the baby shower which mom's co-workers apparently put on for her to celebrate the birth of that first kid of hers...The other (oh-so-lovely) ladies flanking mom in this shot are called "Marlys" and "Jean." Look, there's presents and even a cake! What nice people those Fox Photo (or was it "Foto?") ladies must've been...


Jumping backward in time, here's my mom on her wedding day in March of 1969. On the left there is her mom (my grandma Widegren) and...Could that be?..Yes, it's her mother-in-law again (my grandma Knight) in the middle there...Grandma Knight's lookin' pretty sharp in her "Jackie O" ensemble, but Grandma Widegren appears (inexplicably) to be wearing a yamulka of some sort...Strange...Again: dig the glasses!


From my mom's wedding day to my own, this is a shot of said maternal parent in 2000 when I got married...Looking at the two wedding day photos together, MY corsages were relatively "weak-ass" compared to the ones worn on mom's wedding day...I guess it's true: you can't go "cheap" on some things...That's what you get for buying from a funeral home's "going-out-of-business" sale...


Jumping ahead to Christmas of 1979, here's a shot of mom (with significantly larger spectacles than before) showing off one of her Christmas presents consisting of "gloves" and "a coat." The odd camera angle in this particular picture can easily be attributed to the fact that I was only maybe 3 feet tall when I took the shot with one of those polaroid instamatic cameras...I wonder what happened to those glasses...And the camera, for that matter...


Finally, we end today's maternal photographic tour with a picture from December of '78 wherein myself and my mom are busy being "art snobs," creating legendary masterworks with the help of my brand new Crayola art command station (or whatever the thing was called). Seriously, have you ever seen a 4-year old and his mother more aloof in your life? WE CAN'T BE BOTHERED WITH THE LITTLE PEOPLE!..Ha...Nice scarf, mom...

And so, that's that...I hope everyone has a good holiday weekend, stay safe, have fun and eat like there's no tomorrow...We'll see you all...um..."later." Like maybe Tuesday...

Labels: 'round town, Phrickin' Photoblogs, stuff mom's done

Before I impart to you fantastic tales of succulent prime beef, roast Colorado lamb, attentive service and enjoyably strong cocktails, I should preface by saying that, if given the opportunity, I'm considerably more likely to be seen in a crappy diner enjoying a well done hamburger accompanied by onion rings and a chocolate malt than all dressed up at a fine steakhouse. This doesn't mean that I can't appreciate fine things, it just means that I don't indulge in said "fine things" very often. As a matter of fact, the last time that I ate at an actual "steakhouse," prior to this last weekend, was Cleveland, summer of 2003. I enjoyed it immensely. I also enjoyed eating at an actual steakhouse on Saturday...

And yes, Colorado Springs DOES have a good steakhouse. It's called "The Famous."

The Famous isn't new, in fact it opened in 2002. Upon opening it's doors, It was almost immediately voted "best new restaurant," "best steak," blah blah blah by various people and papers...It was also talked about incessantly by the kinds of people I tend to avoid, trendy folk who flock to the downtown area branding themselves "hip" and "cool" simply because they're there and I'm not. (I think it just has to do with the fact that parking is really hard to come by in downtown Colorado Springs. Perhaps that makes it "exclusive." I dunno...) Anyway, I'd heard that this "Famous" was really something, not only foodwise, but pricewise. I'm not widely known for playing fast and loose with funds (unless I have a goalie mask being painted), so forgive me if I didn't run screaming to The Famous to try a steak...Not immediately, anyway...

That all having been said, My father turned 55 this past Saturday. Double nickel. Big time "milestone" birthday. Isn't it? I dunno. Anyway, he had read and heard about the aforementioned establishment and, after digesting the glowing reviews, was ready to digest some of the Famous' now famous food. It didn't hurt that, of course, a birthday dinner is as good of an excuse as any to visit an expensive restaurant. As such, reservations were made for four, on Saturday, at 7:00 pm. My mom, my dad, my wife and myself were scheduled to enjoy the meaty meat delights that such a place could offer...

Slight problem with all this, though...I've been TRYING my damnedest to eat good and lose weight, stemming the fatty tide of fatty fatness. As you may expect, aged prime beef doesn't necessarily fit into such a diet plan. I did figure, however, that such a restaurant SURELY would serve lamb, or lobster or (at the very least) "chicken." I reasoned that I could eat one of those dishes and not feel TERRIBLY bad about the fat content...Still, I was beginning to hear dissent from my own brain, of all places, telling me that, if I were to visit a fine steakhouse, and I failed to enjoy aged prime beef, then I was not really worthy of being there. After much wrangling and discomfort, my brain and I finally reached an agreement. We would wait and see what was offered on the menu before my brain induced any sort meat-fueled embolism.

Soon enough, the big day came. My wife and I met my parents at their home and we all drove downtown together, parking in a $6.00 parking lot and walking (roughly) a block and a half to the steakhouse. On our way there, we witnessed a number of young people dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos. It was reasoned that it was, in fact, a good of a time as any for high schools to be celebrating "Homecoming." Our only hope was that these teenagers would not be joining us, en masse, for a fine meal at The Famous...

Turns out, there are a good number of high school kids who have a Hell of a lot more money at that age than I did...The Famous was packed, and about half of the patrons appeared to be of the high school homecoming variety...Ah well...

We had made good time getting downtown, and found parking much faster than expected. As such, we were about 20 minutes early for our reservation...It was suggested, by the reception girl, that we take a seat at the bar while we waited for our table. It turns out that this was actually a good thing, as we were all able to enjoy a cocktail (I had Knob Creek with ginger ale) while we acquainted ourselves with the surroundings and, by default, some of the food we would soon be ingesting. It didn't take me long to figure out that, at this particular steakhouse, the portions are quite large. Not just big, these were meals that Andre the Frickin' Giant could've been satisfied by, if he hadn't died in that hotel room in 1993. The bartender, a friendly fellow who poured large amounts of alcohol into our drinks, suggested that we look over a menu while we waited. That way, when we DID get seated, we'd have an idea what we wanted to eat.

In addition, we'd know what everything cost...Wow...

When the Famous first opened, one of the questions that was posed by one of our local restaurant reviewers was a simple, yet poignant one..."Is Colorado Springs ready for a thirty-dollar steak?" Well, let me tell you somethin'...30 dollars is actually a STARTING price. If you wish to enjoy succulent delights such as the Maytag Bleu Cheese Prime New York Strip, or the roast Colorado Lamb, you'd be required to fork over nearly 40 dollars (US) for the meat alone...But, like my dad says, "it's only money," right?

Still...40 bucks...Damn...

Eventually, we did get seated and decided that, since it WAS a special occasion, we should enjoy ourselves some appetizers...I offered that I had never tried crab cakes and, since they had them on the menu, we SHOULD try them. My dad agreed and asked our waiter for 2 orders of crab cakes (at 13 bucks a pop, by the by) to be brought to our table. Because crab cakes took longer to cook than other appetizers, we were told, the waiter was going to bring us some bread...

Cool...I like bread...

I should say, before we get too far into my "review" of The Famous that, as one should expect from a fine steakhouse, everything is just a wee bit better than you're used to...Everything has that "we went the extra mile" feel to it...Case in point, the "bread" that our waiter brought. It's not JUST "bread," people! It's wonderful, freshly baked herbed bread with...like...herbed butter on the side! Very enjoyable, this "bread." Sometime between said bread and said appetizers, we placed our dinner orders...My mother, being caught up in the whole "special occasion gorgin' on food frenzy," ordered herself up TWO sides, a loaded baked potato and "skinny onions" which are kind of like "onion straws..." It was apparent that she hadn't noticed the GIANT PLATES loaded with GIANT PILES of these skinny onion things. It sure seemed like a lot of food to me, but what the Heck do I know, right?

So, the appetizer came...Y'know, I've lived here in Colorado all of my life, I should know the rules...Sometimes, though, I break, or forget, these rules and I'm not often rewarded for doing so...The rule I'm speaking of THIS time is "don't order seafood in Colorado." I guarantee, the Famous did the best they could, but the crab cakes were just "not spectacular." They tasted a bit funky, not much like fresh crab. I'll probably hold off until I visit Maryland again before indulging in anything crab-related. Granted, it wasn't "terrible," we just probably would've been better off making a different appetizer choice. Crab cake grade: C-.

A little tidbit of information that you might find helpful if you ever chance to visit The Famous is this...Your steak, or your lamb or whatever meaty treat you choose for dinner, comes with a salad. Sides are extra, a lot extra actually, but your choice of salad is included. The Famous offers a Caesar (replete with anchovies) or what they describe as an "iceberg wedge with tomato slices." Well, I like a good Caesar, but I'm not a huge fan of large anchovies, so I, along with the rest of my dinner mates, chose the caesar, sans little fishies. Soon after we had finished our crabby appetizers, our salads were brought to our table...

First off, I was damn glad that I followed my instincts AWAY from the "iceberg wedge" because, it turns out, that that's exactly what it is...Nothing more than a chunk of a lettuce head with a couple tomato slices on the side. Very odd (I saw one going by our table, this is how I know...So there.) The caesar though, like everything else The Famous serves, is MASSIVE, easily equal to the size of a dinner salad at a chain place like Black Eyed Pea...The dressing was unique and (dare I say) spicy. Everything about the salad was tasty, right down to the croutons. I enjoyed some of the aforementioned "herbed bread" with mine, careful not to fill up on it, knowing that I still had a rack of lamb on the way. Still, it was awesome. Salad grade: A.

It didn't take a long time after we were all finished with our salads for our dinner entrees to arrive. My wife chose the prime New York Strip, I chose rack of lamb, my mother went with Filet Mignon and my dad ordered the Maytag Bleu Cheese New York Strip, which I WANTED, but figured I'd at least be able to sample due to it's massive proportion (Yes, I bravely fought my own brain. I have a headache now, but it was all worth it). In addition to the meat, my mother's baked potato arrived, looking more like a giant log coated in cheese than a potato, as did her giant pile of thin, fried, battered onions. she immediately requested assistance from the rest of us...Of course, we were all more than happy to oblige.

My lamb was very good, roasted to a wonderful medium, served with a strange, but enjoyable, sauce...My dad's steak, which was easily the best entree at the table, was tender, flavorful and succulent. The entire top was covered with a thick layer of melty bleu cheese which, if you've never tried the combination, is truly awesome. Upon sampling it, I regretted ordering the lamb, something that I don't often do. My wife's steak was good, easily the best New York Strip I've ever sampled and my mom's filet mignon was absolutely amazing. I've not tasted meat of that caliber EVER, not even in Cleveland. In fact, if you paired the meat with the onions, things got even better. Dinner entree grade: A+.

The portions at The Famous are so insanely large that, even though we can all hold our own in the feed bag department, we had to get "to go" boxes AND skip dessert, which is a damn shame because the cheesecake looked awesome (again, saw one or two going by). Next time I eat there (and, yes, there WILL be a next time, I'll have to see if they offer easy financing there at the restaurant, though) I will certainly skip the appetizer to save room for dessert. After it was all said and done, our bill (after a well deserved tip for our waiter) came to around $230. Even though that total is more than I spend for two weeks worth of groceries from my local Wal*Mart, and even though there were a number of high school aged kids there trying to act "grown up" but failing, I still think that it was more than worth it. If you ever find yourself in Colorado Springs AND you have someone to impress, even if it's just yourself that needs some impressing, you certainly could do worse than The Famous. High marks from me, one of the pickiest eaters on the planet. Overall grade: A.

Note: Fresh off of his aged prime beef experience at The Famous, the author is currently enjoying an El Charrito frozen meal, and a glass of slightly warm diet Mountain Dew, at his desk...

Labels: 'round town, dad's stories, holidays, I eat food, stuff mom's done

I love the 4th of July holiday. I think that, if I were forced (at gunpoint) to choose (and rank) my favorite holidays, Independence Day would come in a very close second to All Hallow's Eve which, lets face it, is a holiday without equal. Halloween is COOL, it's spooky, it is THE dark foreboding holiday. It's a time of year that I get paid to draw skeletons for print ads and imitate movie monsters for radio and television commercials. I love it, but like I said, I love 4th of July too...A big reason for my amorous attitude should be painfully obvious...It's a summertime holiday. In early July, Summer is fresh and new, the weather is generally awesome and it's a time of year where it's perfectly acceptable to eat too much, drink (way) too much and THEN go out and play with explosives. How frickin' cool is THAT? You go ahead and try to convince me that this combination of factors doesn't absolutely "rock the house." If you try, you will fail...Miserably. This is because the 4th of July holiday "kicks ass."

I should probably offer up a personal disclaimer at this point. I am now, and have always been, a total pyromaniac. I've been completely fascinated with fire ever since I was a small child. Examples: My grandparents lived in Vail, CO for a while when I was very young. This was during a period of time when my Grandfather was working on a construction project. They lived in a cabin replete with a fireplace (something I had wanted for my whole life) for part of their stay there. I would beg my Grandpa to start a fire, even in Summer, just so I could sit and watch it burn. More example!: When I was older (but still a kid), I would grab cans of flammable liquid (generally Aqua Net® hair spray) and a lighter with which to make giant fireballs. It's fun! Also a bit dangerous I'm told, but isn't everything? I also had a habit of burning paper towels in the sink "just for the Hell of it..." I get this whole "firestarter" trait MOST LIKELY from my Dad. (He and his Brother burned down their house when they were kids.) I never burned down ANYTHING, let alone a house. I did INADVERTANTLY set my bed on fire once, but I never told anyone about it. There was also that grease fire when I was 19, but that got taken care of too...Anyhoo, We're not talking about THAT. We ARE, however, talking about 4th of July...

So it should now be obvious that, when I was a kid, there were few events in my life that brought the kind of insurmountable joy as when the Collins Fireworks stands began popping up around town. The stands would generally open for business the last couple weeks of June and be open through the 4th of July. My parents never did buy enough fireworks for my liking, though. I was always stuck with nothing more than sparklers, snappers and a fountain or two. I should also explain that, In Colorado, the only fireworks that are LEGAL are mild Class "C," which means that if it flies or explodes (or is otherwise "cool"), we don't get to have it. In fact, inside the city limits of Colorado Springs, Fireworks of ANY KIND are illegal (poor bastards). Growing up (and now, since we bought our house in Security) we were (and are again) in "Unincorporated El Paso County." This means that fireworks are legal provided that they are the non-flying or exploding class "C" and there aren't severely dry conditions present. Of course, legality is only a minor stumbling block for most people (as evidenced by the awesome displays in and around our neighborhood this past weekend). Availability of "illegal" (cool) fireworks is a mere 2 hour trip away...

Of course, I mean that the great state of Wyoming is only a couple hours away from where I live...In Wyoming, they allow the really cool fireworks like Bottle Rockets, Black Cat Firecrackers and M80s to be sold. I believe that it was Summertime in 1988, I was caddying for my Dad in the Wyoming Open golf tournament in Cheyenne. This was my first trip to Wyoming and, upon crossing the state line, I found it obvious why most people would visit the Godforsaken place. That reason? You didn't have to look hard to find purveyors of pyrotechnics, Fireworks stands were EVERYWHERE! These places also sold fireworks YEAR ROUND! (holy crap!) Based solely on my love of fire (also of all things explosive), Wyoming was instantly a heaven on earth. I tried my best to convince my Dad that we NEEDED to buy fireworks before we left the state.

Of course, having the "fire" gene inherent in him, my Dad was already thinking one or two steps ahead of me.

Long story short, we arrived back home in Colorado after our trip with the addition of several gross of bottle rockets and a considerable quantity of Black Cat® brand firecrackers. This was a source of frustration (also chagrin) for my Mother. She was convinced that some sort of law enforcement task force was only SECONDS away from breaking down our door and hauling us away, based solely on the fact that we had imported such contraband. My Dad and I assured her that, if we were careful and only shot off a few at a time, we wouldn't get caught, nobody would get hurt and nobody would be "hauled away." Mom was unconvinced by our assurances. In fact, the bottle rockets and her had a very tenuous relationship, neither could stand the other. My Mother made damn sure to store the "illegal" fireworks under the sink in hopes of the pipe leaking on them and, subsequently, ruining them. Luckily, the rockets survived for many years, their sheer numbers making it near impossible for her to destroy ALL of them. A few years after their initial purchase, the rockets would come into play during one of the best Independence Day celebrations ever. First, though, I should introduce one more "player" in this deadly game (of fire). His name is Ryan.

Ryan and I had been friends since the 4th grade. We don't talk to one another anymore, but for the purposes of this story, imagine us as "bestest friends," we did everything together. Around the 4th of July, especially when we had more ready access to funds of our own, we would routinely purchase fireworks for no other reason than to light them and have fun. Ryan had a particular affection for a firework called Crazy Jacks. Crazy Jacks are small little things sold in bundles (and also bricks, being basically a bundle of bundles), the idea being that you light a bundle (of 12 individual Crazy Jacks, I believe) and, when the fuse burns into the firework, colored flame will shoot out the side causing the (aptly named) Crazy Jacks to dance wildly around your driveway for a few seconds. They also go by the name Jumping Jacks, Ground Dancers and such. Ryan discovered, however, that if you separate the individual "Jacks," light them, hold them until they are JUST ABOUT READY to spurt flame and then throw them into the air, they will take off like little bats exiting Hell in thoroughly random directions. This, effectively, turns a harmless mild Class "C" into a dangerous, airborne Class "C," if only for a few glorious seconds. When Ryan first showed me this little trick, I was (obviously) ecstatic. How awesome! Not only did you get 12 times the enjoyment from your pack of Crazy Jacks, it was simply really fun to watch them fly. This became a regular pastime for us every time the 4th of July holiday rolled around...

The first time I showed my Mom the flying firework trick, her reaction was predictable. "That's dangerous, stop it," she'd say. Of course, I would not have "Stopped it," not for anything. One particular night in the early 90s, Myself, Ryan and my Mom were in the backyard of the house on Hackberry lighting fireworks. Mom had been waffling all night as to whether or not we could shoot off some of the original "illegals," and, as such, the bag containing a remaining few gross of bottle rockets was outside with us. She had decided after some thought, however, that it'd be a bad idea and that we would not be allowed to shoot any off. Undaunted, Ryan and I set to the thoroughly enjoyable task of lobbing lit Crazy Jacks in the air and watching them take off. After too long, my Mom decided that she wanted to try throwing one. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," I told her. "You have to wait until the very last minute, right before the fuse burns into it." She still seemed eager to try it so I acquiesced and handed her a Crazy Jack of her very own. Ryan and I both threw a couple more to give her an idea of what she'd be doing and she exclaimed that she was ready. I lit her firework and watched her wait, holding the tiny incendiary device in her suddenly wavering hand.

Did I mention before that my Mom tends to panic a bit?

So yeah, Mom didn't wait for the fuse to go very far. Mom didn't throw the Crazy Jack in the air. Mom apparently experienced a sudden moment of clarity regarding her pending (dangerous) actions, freaked out and tossed the lit Crazy Jack away. She didn't throw the firework on the cement or on the grass, oh no. She threw it DIRECTLY INTO THE BAG CONTAINING THE BOTTLE ROCKETS. Whether she liked it or not, There was going to be a big bottle rocket show THAT night...After she committed this dastardly act, there was that tenuous sort of silence for a second or two, right before all Hell broke loose. It was the kind of silence where all parties involved seem to be simultaneously looking at one another in disbelief, but also looking for a good place to hide. Expectedly, the little Crazy Jack began it's Hellfire dance inside the bag, lighting the fuse of every bottle rocket that it came near (which was all of them). In no time at all, rockets began spurting from the bag, flying at us from all directions...I personally jumped through the screen door into the utility room. My Mom ran toward the gate, seeking refuge around the side of the house. Ryan, not being so lucky as to be close to the house, had to run like Hell toward the aspen tree, rockets on his tail the whole way. He dove behind the tree and tried to deflect the attacking missiles with the branches, but it was to no avail. He was being assaulted from all sides by hundreds of menacing little sticks of fire and fun. The sounds of that night are burned into my memory, as it's the closest I've ever come to experiencing any sort of "battle." Whistles, explosions, and screams permeated the night sky as 3 gross of bottle rockets, unleashed unwittingly by my Mother, rained Hell and horror down upon us in our own backyard...

After some time, and after the last of the rockets had done it's foul duty, there was a shaky sort of quiet. Ryan, battered and dazed by the rockety onslaught, crawled out from behind the tree and sat on the grass. I emerged from the utility room, actually OPENING the door this time around. My Mom continued to cower by the side of the house, now completely convinced that "Johnny Law" would be coming to take her "downtown" in short order for harboring and detonating banned fireworks. Our neighbor Jack, who had been drawn outside by the commotion, was standing on the fence, demanding to know where we had acquired such ordnance. All I could do was laugh while I surveyed the scene in the back yard, a thick cloud of smoke hung low, enveloping everything. Broken red sticks and spent rocket bodies littered every corner of the grass. Leaves and branches that had been torn from our two trees lay everywhere as well. Observing all of this, and ignoring my neighbors inquiry, I stood and chuckled away, still incredulous that it was all reality...Luckily, no Sheriff's Deputy showed up at our house that night and, eventually, our neighbor got tired of his simple line of questioning. After too long, we got everything cleaned up and back in order. It truly was the best damn 4th of july ever.

Not surprisingly, my Mother isn't allowed to handle fireworks anymore.

Labels: holidays, indignities, lame stories, me roots, stuff mom's done