Good times, these are the good times.

During the 1970's it was:

Ok not to wash your hair every day.

Ok for the first lady's agenda to be alcohol or CB radios.

Ok to wear homemade clothes.

Ok to have to help tend the family garden.

Ok to be black and beautiful, even if your name was Grace Jones.

Ok to watch Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom on a Saturday afternoon because the TV set only got 4 networks and one had to get their sorry rump off the sofa to change the channel.

Ok to ride over the levee, play Pink Floyd at full volume and make loops on dirt roads. It was the best party in town, and everyone was welcome.

Ok to tie wads of hemp together in knots and call it art.

Ok to cut the legs off your pants and wear them during the summer and not to get new shoes until the fall.

Ok if Barry Gibb, Barry White or Barry Goldwater wasn't your man.

Ok to be a girl and wear a tuxedo to the prom or wear overalls without a bra.

Ok to fix up a junker as a teenager's first car.

Ok to roll your own cigarettes and nobody got suspicious.

Ok to hear the words "I want to try a Harvey Wallbanger!" to come out my mother's mouth, even though I had no idea what she was talking about at the time.

Ok to travel cross-country to the Grand Canyon in a vehicle with the kids and all it a vacation.

Ok to drink cheap beer because there was no such thing as a microbrewery.

Ok to be a white southern democrat.

Admirable to work hard and save your money to buy something special that you really wanted, like a double-knit western cut leisure suit instead of putting it on plastic.

And a Working Class Hero was something to be.

Faster horses, younger women, older whiskey and more money.

Last night I attended an abridged production of "Quilters" by the Young Troupe at the Strauss. The play's venue was at a church that somewhat looked like an interior of a barn. The rustic set worked quite well there with the exception of a big honkin' pipe organ on the back of the "stage" area, but I did not find the organ to be much of a distraction since it was not played. The play itself was small vignettes of stories that often broke into song about pioneer women settling on the prairie and their seemingly endless life of making quilts. Overall, it was a good show that an older woman would have enjoyed much more than myself. I found it strange that the director went to such trouble to find such an authentic appearing venue and then chose to use a slide projector during the play. HELLO! There were no powerpoint presentations on the wagon train!

Lordy, I have loved some ladies and I have loved Jim Beam, but they both tried to kill me in 1973.

Apparrently a state law has changed little to my knowledge about four months ago. The public can no longer purchase frozen daquiris that contain liquor from any place other than a restaurant or bar. I found this out after deciding I wanted a Margarita Friday night at a gas station's drive-thru window. This store sold only virgin frozen drinks. However, if I were to buy a large spirit inspired slurpee for $8, the store would throw in a free half pint of tequilla. Excuse me, if drinking and driving is already dangerous enough, why should we be the forced into even a bigger distraction by playing bartender at the wheel?!

What makes the least amount of sense is the fact that one can still purchase frozen daquiris that contain liquor at bars with drive-thrus!

Rockytop will always be home sweet home to me...

Tonight, I went to the supermarket. I should have been forewarned about what was soon to happen just by noticing an antique Coca~Cola trucked parked out front. There was a party to be going on up in that crazy grocery store. Soon as I walked in a blaring voice came over the loudspeaker, "Attention: Brookshire's shoppers: There is a live band at the photolab."

Sure enough, there was a live band, a bluegrass band complete with a banjo picker and dual guitar playing girls harmonizing into boom mics. There were older lady shoppers clapping and clogging to those old-timey tunes. That was just a regualar old hootenanny.

There was a roving lady photographer snapping pictures of all the fun in the deli. That confused me because I thought the good time was obviously up front with the shoppers' hoedown.

There were free wine samples. I had no idea what I was drinking, even though I think it was a Shiraz of some sort. I just kept rolling by the wine table every so often grabbing another cup, and the nice man kept saying "Here, let me top that off for you." Whatever I was drinking was good because I kept catching glimpses of a clown.

I stayed far away as I could from that clown.

There were also some cubes of cheese and ham impaled with pretzels. I refused the chesse in total fear of the impending results. Bluegrass bands, dancing shoppers, clowns and the paparatzi was plenty enough excitement to see at the supermarket on a Thursday night without the use of quesomorphins.

The night got deathly quiet, and the gambler, he broke even. But in his final words, I found an ace that I could keep.

I made Outrageously Easy BIG Bread last night. Thank you Renae, for the recipe. It turned out delicious. There was one problem however, as the bread never really got BIG. It was more of a small to medium sized loaf. Perhaps I do need to find some vital wheat gluten or maybe just use a little baking soda for additional leavening. Or should I look for a decent self-rising flour instead?

The recipe called for 6 cups of flour, so I used 5 cups whole wheat and 1 cup unbleached white. I even mixed and kneaded the dough with my hands. Upon it's departure from the oven, it smelled so good that I could not help but to cut it while it was still warm and share a couple of pieces with my husband. He said it was great and he does not really like wheat bread. The recipe made two loaves so I decided I would send the other loaf to my in-laws via my husband, since he was heading that way to attend a funeral today.

I was so proud of my creation that I decided that I did not want it to get hard by sitting overnight. I cut a vacuum sealer bag. I sealed one end. I slid a beautiful loaf into the bag. I started the machine. The bag started to shrink and take on the shape of the loaf. As I struggled to find the button seal the bag at that certain point, I witnessed the fate of my lovely loaf flatten into something that looked like an oversized raisin. I grabbed a pair scissors to hopefully rescue the bread by cutting into the bag. It was too late. The loaf never regained it's former self.

I called my mom-in-law and told her about my wonderful creation and about how I ruined it. She laughed and said that was ok and to send it her way. She was sure that it tasted great anyway. She also gave me a few pointers as to what to do with the bread instead of smushing it. There is always next time.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em, know when to walk away and know when to run.

As of today, I remain at a standstill as to whether I want to start baking my own bread. I am quite capable of making homemade whole-wheat yeast rolls by the dozen that are wonderful. I believe that now I may be able to graduate to more difficult tasks.

My inspiration to start baking my own bread is simply because I despise spending almost four dollars on a halfway decent loaf of bread from the supermarket. So, I performed a small kitchen inventory of the equipment that I already own. Loaf pans? Check. Baking stone? Check. Big bowls? Check. Is there a nearby grocery store supplying quantity and variety of desired staples? Check. Mixer? Umm. See, I do own a mixer, a hand mixer. The truth about my wonderful hand mixer is that is has the exact same wattage as those Kitchen-aid stand mixers that cost $200-$300.

A friend of a friend and sometimes reader of this blog suggested a very pricey Bosch mixer for my desired whole-wheat applications, which I really do appreciate her advice, but the Bosch mixer does not currently fit into my budget. I have even when to the trouble of pricing bread machines, but that idea seems a little lame, being that I currently own everything else but a stand mixer. I don’t know. As long as my local market continues to keep one of my more favorite bread selections at an unbelievable 2 for 1 sale price, I guess that decision will suffice for now.

Speaking of supermarkets, I know I was downing the place I usually shop at because of some rumored cola war seen on an on-line sale paper. I reported to store for my weekly shopping, and there was not cola war in sight. Instead, there was a big sign that read, “Health and Harmony – There are over 700 organic and natural items stocked in this store!” Not quite the “Pepsi, welcomes you to the trenches of The Next Generation!” banner I was expecting.

I also had to stop in some of my running about last week to pick up a few other items at another one of this particular store locations, being the kids were coming to visit and I spied their “sign”. Only 120 something organic or natural items were stocked in this store. Are peers not created equal?

I somehow doubt I have single-handedly caused this huge organic phenomenon on Sterlington Road, as I do spy in others carts while I do my shopping. Perhaps my timing is off for finding the other harmonious shoppers as myself. I as shop, I see that there are still too many family-sized frozen pizzas and sodas rolling about.

Fire all of your guns at once, and explode into space. I like smoke and lightning, heavy metal thunder.

The opportunity for a road trip with three Norwegian Minnesota native women to a semi-city of sin is knocking. This chapter in my life will probably be omitted from both Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion and The Lutheran Basement Women Cookbook. As we all know, what happens on the Red Riveria stays there. Golden Girls, eat your heart out! Rose Nylund will be in triple threat effect. Shreveport, Louisiana will never be the same again.

I gotta have a shot of them old troubadours... Set em up, Joe, and play walking the floor.

The airport called. It seems that they have located my misplaced emotional baggage. Cripes, I thought I had lost that shit for good!

You can have the other woman. Don't mess with my Toot-Toot.

Laissez le bon temps rouler!

http://www.cypresscityband.com/soundclips/JIN9080_09MyTootToot.mp3

The step-kids are coming to the house again this weekend; I wanted to take them to Janus. http://www.kreweofjanus.com/

The weather is forecasted to be cold and rainy and I really do not want to stand in frigid drizzle just to catch trinkets even though I really do like attending the parade. I think it would be something the kids would enjoy also. I made the mistake of taking Oscar once. He was having a good time until the Sons on Confederate Veterans came marching by and shot their muskets into the air. BOOM! My 70-pound furry friend, at full speed for 3-4 blocks, dragged me down the street in a perpendicular direction away from the pre-Lenten festivities.

My stepson’s birthday is also this weekend. I was thinking about picking up a king cake, in lieu of birthday cake. We have done that several years ago, but I want to get a good king cake, perhaps one with a cream cheese filling. Mmm. It looks like I need to call a bakery this afternoon is I want to do that, because the king cakes sold at the supermarkets are somewhat, err, um, BLEH.

It's murder by numbers, one, two, three. It's as easy to learn as your ABC.

I did reciprocate by carpet cleaning friends' favor by baking them a praline cheesecake, as promised. I delivered it last night. This morning, I called to check out how much they enjoyed it. That cheesecake is still sitting in their refridgerator, unstabbed. My delicioous cheesecake has become eye- porn to be viewed by a family standing in front of the icebox with the door open, viewer's mouth agape and watering. Oh well, it's always best when eaten on the third day, methinks.

Sprawling on the fringes of the city, in geometric order, an insulated border, in between the bright lights, and the far unlit unknown.

The first weekend spent in the house was a successful one. The weather got cold all of a sudden after raining most of Friday, so I decided to make homemade venison chili and Mexican cornbread as our first meal. Even though, the chili was good, I should experiment with making a vegetarian chili with black beans and brown rice, for times when I am alone.

Last night, I decided it was time to try some edamame. I found it had an unfavorable aftertaste. I think I will stick to soy nuts and soymilk as sources of isoflavones. I will give kudos to my husband for trying the edamame with me.

I am entertained by the thought that my husband is amazed by convenience. He has always lived in extremely rural areas. The other night I gave him a brief tour of all the nearby amenities and he was impressed that we now lived so close to so much. I showed him where Sonic was, and the Dollar General store. Then he started to get excited and pointed out the Subway, Quizno’s, Wing Stop and a couple of supermarkets.

Speaking of supermarkets, it seems that Brookshire’s has really got on the health food bandwagon by labeling good eats as “Health and Harmony” finds in their stores, even though many of the items that I do purchase from there have not been christened as such yet. I really do not like the idea of their little savings card (marketing ploy), but if helps them realize what customers like me want stocked in their markets, then I shall be game to be their maverick example. Something’s amiss however, when I look at their on-line sale paper for this week and there appears to be a soda war going on. :( hmmm…

Well,I'm a losing weight and a turnin' mighty pale. Looks like I've Got A Tiger By The Tail.

I do not understand why I like listening to Dwight Yoakam songs and not so much Buck Owens. Perhaps this can be best explained because one can effectively dance to Dwight Yoakam. One can either commit to slo-mo James Brown moves alone or a fast-paced two-step with a partner while Mr Yoakam moans with a Bakersfield twang. If one were to dance to Mr. Owens and his Buckaroos, one would appear to be a bobblehead character.

AND SINCE WHEN DID BUCK OWENS START JAMMIN' WITH CAKE?! WTH?!

Today, I miss going to honky-tonks and doing the jitterbug.

I am the astro-creep, a demolition style, hell american freak. I am the crawling dead, a phantom in a box, shadow in your head.

After I hanging my shower curtains at the house on Superbowl Sunday, I headed over to my friend Jean’s house to give her some chrome shower curtain hooks that the previous owner left at the house. They were pretty cool, but I didn’t have any use for them being that the shower curtains I purchased came with matching hooks. Since Jean does non-profit work, I figured she could either use them herself or give them to a mentally ill person in need of bathing in privacy.

While her husband was planted on the sofa watching the game, Jean, her daughter and I spent the evening piled up on her daughter’s bed watching some dumb makeover show and coloring fuzzy velvet Sponge Bob posters. I was explaining to her about some horrible television experience I had the night before, involving redneck men selling grosses of cheap knives displayed by being stabbed into cypress trunks. Then she came to me with a housewarming gift, cheap knives. How funny! She explained to me that some poor sap was selling these horrible knives door-to-door through Antique Alley one day last week and how she felt sorry for him. She purchased two sets of knives from the solicitor for $20. She is so sweet.

Even though those knives are not good quality, the box is fabulous. It’s red and black with a picture of some not-so-famous Japanese hibachi chef and not a single word of English on the box. I love it, but I forgot it at her house, on her daughter’s bed. Now, assuming that every teenager’s room looks like Jean’s daughter’s (messy) I can only hope that those knives were moved by her mother from the bed before Jaimee rolled over onto them in her sleep and was killed. Maybe I should call to find out Jaimee is all right and apologize for my not taking my knives with me in my egress from the said residence.

OOPS!

All the gold in California is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills, in somebody else’s name.

Getting this house ready has been very hard work. Hubby and I still managed to get a few big things moved. He is shooting for next Friday as when we will be moved in. I found some blinds to cover the windows in the doors and they look really good. Being that they are made of paper, I was a bit concerned about their durability, but they do work well. I will just have to be careful operating them. I do not understand why when I buy two blinds, only one of them are assembled. After a short study of the assembled blind, I managed to get the second one put together.

I also bought a couple of shower curtains at Fred's yesterday. Generally, Fred's has some really strange stuff like plastic elephant lamps and triple tiered wicker baskets chained together, filled with silk flowers, donning "morning dew" globs of clear plastic, but there are some really good deals to be found there. One curtain, I really like alot. The other one is drug inspried. I swear, the fabric of this thing was printed in a pot leaves and poppies design. It's quite the bizarre shower curtain. Too bad they did not have a shower curtain depicting St. John the Baptist. That would have been a most excellent time.

I watched Elektra sunday morning. I had heard that it was really a horrible movie, but I found it to be okay. Wasn't Charlize Theron in a movie portraying Aeon Flux? Yeah. I was thinking that it had been released last year, but it's just now premiering. I might have to check that one out too, when it hits the video store or comes on cable.

I do not go to the theater much, only when there is something that I really do want to see. The last movie I saw in the theater was "Walk the Line", in December. I was impressed with how much Joaquin Phoenix gets Johnny Cash, and he is doing the singing too.

The movie I saw in the theater before that was in 2003 when Luther was released, but never came to Monroe. I dragged my husband to Jackson, (an hour and a half drive) just to see it. It was kinda funny because here we were sitting amongst every Lutheran in the state of Mississippi. The Mississippi Lutherans enjoyed the movie so much that at the end of it, they were compelled to give a standing ovation to a blank screen.

After that experience, I was not sure how to act when I saw "Walk the Line". I enjoyed it immensely. When it was over, I looked around the theater to see if just perhaps there was a standing ovation. There was none, not even applause. As my readers my see, going to the movies is quite confusing for me.

You say that Nobody's after you, the fact is what you say is true, but I can love you like Nobody can, even better.

It seems that my husband has found himself a hobby in photography. I was checking out some of the pics he had taken with his cam-cell phone, and I was very impressed. I really liked the way he photographed the Mississippi River. They not very Mississippi River looking at all. These pictures were very peaceful and captured a wonderful zen-like balance of color and light. For the first time I saw a side of my husband that I did not know existed. There is an artist to be found in a sharecropper's son after all and that artist NEEDS a decent camera!

Can't you smell that smell? The smell that surrounds you.

This tidbit is truly disgraceful...


http://msnbc.msn.com/id/6791103/

WHY?!