Geting Older With Bourbon And Voodoo

While watching the big game today, it hit me during the halftime show that none of us are as young as we used to be. I was also happy to discover that things (read voices) can loosen up after a song or two. This is concerning a group of folks whose generation is about half a generation before my generation. It also hit me that I really did care who won the game, so come the fourth quarter I switched between the game and "The Simpsons" - mostly because I forgot to get some "Dixie Blackened Voodoo" and had to do something to bring some luck to the Saints. It seemed to work because during the first 'mercial for The Simpsons when I switched back I noticed things had improved. WHAT AN INTERCEPTION!!!
I hold nothing against the Colts - one of my high school/college classmates used to play for them, but the city that has hosted several "Big Games" should also produce the winner of said big game at least once. So in celebration I will need to find some place in this town that sells Dixie Blackened Voodoo. I even felt the urge to be on Bourbon Street in The Big Easy despite the fact I hate crowds - it might have something to do with wanting to get away from snow for at least one day.

Gotta Have Soul

Last night I took a risk and introduced our daughter to a type of fish she has never tasted - sole. It was a pretty safe bet as she likes salmon, lobster tail and cod. She even tolerates cod in lutefisk form. The difference is that I used a little Parmesan cheese in the coating before baking it, so I was a little unsure of what the end result would be. She had two pieces at dinner and another two for an evening snack. I guess she liked it. Now she is asking for scallops.

How to make friends.

Another January in Flagstaff with...

snow




snow




snow (6' fence)




and more snow



Me an' my snow blower (A.K.A. my mistress)



On my way to the neighbors to pimp out my mistress.

It's not delivery - It's homemade!

Our daughter wanted a pizza for dinner, but knew we could not order one because the weather was lousy and delivery was not an option. She didn't even want to deal with driving a mile down the hill to the Mountainaire Tavern to pick one up. She was quite upset until I pointed out that we could make one. She even helped. And what a help she was.

A Very Good Day

It would seem that I have been stressing over clearing the roof of snow and the driveway of ice before the next storm hits given the ever shortening window of opportunity. The stress increased during the past couple of days because I knew our daughter wanted to spend today skiing, causing me to miss a day to accomplish the tasks. This was despite my knowing that if I went to the slopes, the remaining snow on the roof, and ice in the driveway would cease to matter. How a ten year-old came to be so smart is beyond me. When one is cruising down a snow covered slope with their child on a windless sunny day, the roof and driveway don't matter. Wait--it gets better! I decided the driveway is such a lost cause I should not stress over it, and Kim got tired early so I was able to get on the roof before sunset and spent 30 minutes to remove the remaining snow from the roof. It gets even better. While I was schussing away the Vikings (one of my 3 faves) killed/embarrassed/trounced/decimated, etc. the Cowbows (a team I refuse to acknowledge as more than slime mold) 43-3. This was icing on the cake - or better yet, the chocolate ruffles/shards on the "pain in the ass cake."

I realize this should have been posted nearly three weeks ago, but it wasn't so live with it. Anyway this is a U.S. Airways DHC Dash 8 being de-iced at the Flagstaff airport on Christmas morning. The temperature was somewhere between minus 5 and minus 10 creating a super cool cloud of mist. I also thought it was cool that the person doing the de-icing was 1) A woman, 2) the person who was at the ticket counter in the lobby, and 3) the person at the gate. Nothing like working at a small airport, no?

Packing Frozen Boogers In A House Of Cards.

So this afternoon I was chillin' in the recliner not watching the Penguins of Madagascar with my daughter when one of them reported "The temperature is minus seventeen degrees Fahrenheit; the freezing point of snot." I find no references to the freezing point of phlegm, and I doubt I would find such in the CRC handbook, but this seems to be what I hace experienced. Boogers freeze somewhere between minus 10 and minus 20 Farenheit. If anyone has a reference to the real freezing point of snot, post it!

I was watching this insipid program instead of the Cards/Packers game for two reasons. 1) It was on and the recliner was too comfy for me to leave to get the remote. 2) I like both teams and didn't want to watch a team I like loose. 3) This is a bonus - The team I like more was down 31 to 10 at the time of this posting.