Ruby loves Flight of the Conchords

Introducing baby Ruby Feliz to the Flight of the Conchords on this Christmas Eve. More on the baby to come.

A Very Redneck Thanksgiving: Part II

I woke up to gun shots the morning after Thanksgiving, but I thought it was probably just the neighbors shooting at cans or something. I promptly went back to sleep, until the sound of helicopters overhead aroused my curiosity. I braved entering the public area of the house (for fear of attack by my neices and nephews) to the news that there had been a shootout between one of the neighbors and a team of federal marshalls that had come to serve a search warrant for what appeared to be drug-related activity. Evidently when the marshalls arrived at the door the occupant of the house shot at them through the glass above the front door, prompting the marshalls to return fire. It wasn’t long before the news crews were on the scene (hence the helicopters).

I shot a video of the news coverage, but apparently the file is too large to post and I don't have the required software to edit it - yet. This blog adventure is helping me upgrade technology, which I'm slothful at doing, so I guess in a way this shooting thing has a silver lining (if upgrading technology for me qualifies...) Anyway, I liked the video because they keep showing my brother’s house in the background. Classy.



Is there any irony in the fact that later that afternoon my brother and my cousins went to the range to fire off their pistols? They took my 12-year old niece with them for her first target practice. I declined the offer to join them and went with my dad and Nancy (his girlfriend) to the casinos along the river in Tunica. I won $20, I guess it was worth it. Next time I might try the range, if only for a sense that I might need to protect myself during my next trip to Mississippi...

A Very Redneck Thanksgiving: Part I

"This is the South, we can fry anything" was Hallie's (my brother's wife) proud boast when I got to their house in northern Mississippi for Thanksgiving this year. Actually, it seemed more like a challenge.

The first manifestation of this "challenge" was my brother's declaration that we would be deep-frying the turkey this year. The whole thing. I was fascinated by this concept and eagerly manned the deep fryer outside with its two tons of peanut oil and pleasing gurgling sound. After about an hour the bird was declared done and lifted out to share its golden brown glory. And it was mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmmm good. (BTW Bobby, nice Crocs.)



The frying olympics didn't stop there, and I don't think there was any way to prepare me for what came next. Not to be outdone, Hallie decided to attempt the penultimate frying feat: frying the cranberry sauce. At first I thought this was the most daft thing I had ever heard. Who the hell fries cranberry sauce, and how does that happen anyway? My doubts were not appreciated. Evidently cranberry sauce is fryable after all:


Of course I had to try it, and as you might have predicted it was kinda gross. And yes, I drank my wine from a red plastic cup with my name on it. That's just how we roll...

Thank You For Being A Friend

I wasn't looking forward to this happy hour invitation at first, but upon arriving at the 16,000 sf mansion built into the side of Camelback Mountain, my attitude swiftly improved. Relations with my dad's girlfriend are strained at times, or at least the times when I'm not actively avoiding her. So when she called me out of the blue saying that she was in town traveling with 3 of her girlfriends from Texas I was accepting the invitation sort of under the premise of maintaining family harmony.

As it turned out, these ladies were a riot.

In the photo left to right there's Patricia, Queenie (the fact that one was named Queenie was enough to win me over for the evening), Peggy, and Nancy (the girlfriend). You wouldn't guess it, but Peggy was 80 years old. We talked about her frequent trips to see her daughter in Fairbanks, Alaska, which is a trip she continues to make every year. Then there was Queenie, who's son is an Iron Chef, and Patricia, who's grand-daughter married well (ahem...really well) and lives in the mansion we had the pleasure to visit. The "help", also known as Karen, grilled us filet mignons on the huge outdoor grill on the patio overlooking the Valley of the Sun while we watched the sun set, the desert sky colors enhanced by the copious white wine. We talked about practical jokes, football, traveling, relationships, and the aurora borealis, and I was sad to have to leave. I got an offer to be adopted by several of the ladies...depending on how this grad school experiement turns out I might just take them up on the offer...

Comparisons Obligatoires:
Sophia: Peggy
Rose: Queenie
Dorothy: Patricia
Blanche: Nancy