Groove Neuter’s blog

State of the Groove

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 19:08:34 -0500

I find myself in the unlikeliest of predicaments.

I do not want to tell my friends how great parenting can be, for fear that their experience will not be so swell and make them feel lesser.

I do not want to tell my friends how awful parenting can be, for fear that their trials will not be so great, and I will have poisoned their outlook.

For myself, I can have anything I want... and I don't care for it anymore.

I am impossible to shop for.

Presents are hopeless.

Though I enjoy the people that wish to give me the presents immensely, for the sheer notion that they wanted to try.

Sure, there are some things I will try when curiosity intersects opportunity... but nothing that I want enough to go out and actually get because I am somehow driven to posses them.

I do not have access to every album or music file that I have ever coveted.

However, this leaves open the door to the magic that happens when I chance across a hearing of one of those tunes.

I have not read and do not own every comics collection that could possibly fascinate me for hours/days on end.

I have not watched every movie that would reduce me to guy-grunts.

I have not read every book that would make me put it down at times and sigh, "damn".

And that is fine.

They are still out there.

I leave open the chance for happy surprises and thrilling encounters.

I want to learn more of the unknown.

I want experiences.

I think I want the knowledge of things without possessing the things themselves.

I want to lease life, and always trade it in for the newest model.

I adore reading and returning library books for free.

Listening to college radio makes me nostalgically giddy (really surprised the program accepted that usage; I was all set to change it to "giddy with nostalgia" but I digress - and need another shot of that Very Old Barton 90 proof 6 Year - which isn't really all that old, but I am round the bend now).

I am delighted by both of my daughters' imagination and emerging sense of humor.

I am high like an idiot when browsing a good selection at a liquor store... and drunk shortly thereafter.

Did you ever hear the one about what a car and an elephant have in common? The four year old busts out with that on the way home and I can't stop laughing until we're in the garage. Just wait until she finds Nantucket on the map.

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One step closer...

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 17:14:10 -0600

GrooveBDay

Birthday consumption.

Papa Murphy's take-n-bake stuffed pizza (creamy garlic chicken and bacon.)

Booker's small-batch bourbon.
126.4 proof, 6.7 years
Straight from the barrel, uncut, unfiltered.
Recipe from Booker Noe, grandson of Jim Beam.
Nose of raisins and cinnamon (and fire).

Ahhhhhhh.

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Respect for Elders

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 15:50:12 -0600

The wife and I open the door with the little jingly bell on it, hop over the raised doorway lip (truely wicked) and stroll into the local boozeria.

She is quickly dazzled by naughty labeled wines and lost to the brightly neon corner of the shop to giggle.

I press on, to the furthest darkest back corner.

Man-country, where they keep the whiskeys and bourbon.

Old Charter is a new addition for this shop. (I've read it's part of the Buffalo Trace Distillery, Lexington, KY.)

They have a puzzling variety of vintage; 1 year, 3 year, 5 year, 8 year, 10 year and 12 year.

Not to be overcome with indecision, I grasp the 12 year (90 proof) and emerge back to the fluorescent light of the cash register.

On the way, I do the wife a favor and grab a big ol' tear-drop bottle of Rain vodka. Lovely container, organic contents.

The kind of vodka that doesn't need to hide behind flavorings, mixers, or additives.

The wife won't buy it for herself, because it makes her feel guilty to buy anything but Popov.

On the other hand, I have every incentive to buy her good vodka because well...

The old man behind the counter is restocking the hip/boot size bottles and doesn't notice my arrival.

I clear my throat.

Nothing.

I set the bottles down again, jingling them together a bit. Clink, clink, nothing.

Right about here, lizard-brain is telling me to just side-step back on out through the door to the car with my prizes.

The wife walks up.

Just then, old man turns around and jumps with a start, "Will that be all then?"

Yeah, she was wearing one of her boobie shirts.

Old man's still got the radar.

Wife looks at the receipt in the car, "Did you really need the 12 year?"

"Well yeah. I've never had Old Charter before."

"So?" she says

"Here's the thing, if I started off by trying the younger stuff, each bottle would have been cheaper, true, but might have been more expensive overall."

"Huh?" she says.

"Look, if I try the one year, and it sucks, I would think, well, maybe the three year would be better, so then I buy that, and if it sucks, I might think, well maybe the five year is better and so on, until I end up buying the twelve year old anyway. So, this way, I start off with the twelve year old. If it sucks, I don't need to try any of the others because this is as good as it's going to get. If I do like it, I can always downgrade until I find the one that's too young, then go back up just one notch from then on."

"You way over-analyze your booze, but thanks for the vodka."

"Anytime. Anytime."

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The I.S.Y.N. Files

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 15:26:13 -0600

The latest case for the "I-Shit-You-Not" Files.

I saw this at the store today and picked up a jar as a novelty for our Thanksgiving celebration with friends.

Moonshine 003

Moonshine label

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1st day Pre-School

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Tue, 04 Sep 2007 16:40:36 -0500

Eldest attended her first day of Pre-school today.

Smashing success.

I didn't even cry as I dropped off my little girl.

Also my first day to have time to focus on youngest daughter.

She loved being an attention-hog.

Meanwhile, eldest rocked out and didn't want to leave her class at the end of the day.

Teacher reports that eldest is already head of her class.

Smoked a cheap cigar with good whiskey to celebrate.

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She wears short skirts

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Sat, 18 Aug 2007 16:19:49 -0500

The wife came home from a shopping adventure to the local Goodwill shop.

Lots of itty-bitty skirts in the offering.

Now we need a second outing to acquire skirt hangers, so I am told.

I agreed on terms that for my part, I would be rewarded with a 12 pack.

The wife counter-offered with a 1.75 Liter of Tennessee Whiskey, on grounds that it will have lesser impact on the belly.

I love my wife.

Off to the shops.

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Finding Purchase

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Sun, 08 Jul 2007 13:06:17 -0500

Finding Purchase

I see I got this limp now

But don't remember where I got it from

Yeah I know I bought this pain somewhere last night

But not who it was put it up for sale

Some few things I remember so clear

I didn't drive a car there

I didn't trust I could steer it home

There was tall whiskey in my glass alright

And now there's a poundin' in my head

An awful aching pounding

If events are remembered rightly

Last night there was a pounding in my bed

I remember a girl, she danced home with me

But not where she come from or gone to

Yeah, I know she said her name

And now I wish I'd wrote it down somewhere

My memory worked better when that whiskey was still full

Now it's empty and she's gone and I'm left with this aching here

Last night there was a real good pounding

But now it's in my head.

I remember a girl that danced home with me

But not where she came from or gone to.

I got me a real good limp now

and an aching in my head.

I know I'm the one who bought it

But not who put it up for sale.

I know I must've paid for it

Because my wallet ain't got no bills

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QotD: I Take These Things For Granted

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Sun, 08 Jul 2007 12:37:38 -0500

What are five things you take for granted?
Submitted by meowkitty.

1 my bank online bill pay system will actually send the checks out.
2 whiskey will lull me to sleep at night
3 coffee will perk me back up the next morning
4 vendors that I pay to provide a service will actually do so
5 there will be a new QotD to answer each day

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Favorite Monuments to Visit

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 11:25:51 -0500

Appropriately enough, it was sunny last Sunday.

The neighbors on both sides of us were gone to the subdivision pool.

I was in no condition to enjoy the water myself, having been sunburned in an odd pattern the day before at the pool.

The shape of the burn looked suspiciously as if sunscreen spray was applied to me by a person of approximately the same height as my wife, as I was carrying a 14 month old in my left arm/side while kneeling down to help a 3 year old into the foot-deep kiddie pool.

So on this sunny Sunday, I could be found in a small patch of shade on the patio,
reading a book and listening to tunes.

My own collection.

Modern commercial radio gives me a rash.

The kiddies were down for a nap.

It was a beautiful moment complete with birds chirping and the rustle of the tree branches in the light breeze.

The wife emerges from the house.

In a bikini.

I slide the sunglasses down my nose a bit for an unfiltered view.

She lays out several lounge chair cushions and a towel, with intent to lay-out in the sun, just beyond my feet.

This despite the recent article in Newsweek we discussed about the addictive nature of sunbathing.

I think about scolding her, but instead take a pull from the whiskey tumbler.

It's just not proper etiquette to scold a woman in a bikini.

Just to hit my homemaker's quota of bitching for the day, I made the decision to hound her about turning in her expense reports for reimbursement later instead, when she has more clothes on. That would have to do.

The album ended after another twenty or so minutes of ogling, and my tumbler contents must have evaporated, because it was dry.

I'd only advanced the book a few pages.

On returning outside, I discovered that the wife had turned over on her belly... and removed her top.

There's only one small step out to our patio, but I still nearly managed to miss it, sloshing a small drop of the precious amber elixir. Ah, let the angels have their fabled share.

I put the album into the player and resumed my shaded perch. The show was getting better in the second half.

Maybe those expense reports could wait another day or two before I followed up with her about them.

So, it was then that the wife looks over and winks, "Ya like that do ya?"

"Well, yes."

"We've been together forever and it's nothing you don't get to see everyday."

I also chose to let the double-negative slide, you know, considering.

"Yeah, but this is, like, naughty."

Another smirk and she turns her head away and back down to sleep.

The tumbler gets empty again, somehow. I need to get up to go fix that again.

But she's still just laying there, sleeping, topless.

Mischief floods my percolating synapses.

I set the tumbler down gently, and reach for the wallet out of my pocket, finding a $5 bill.

Hello, Mister Lincoln. I know you're usually found on Mount Rushmore, among other places, but I think that the Grand Canyon would suit you better just now.

So, instead of advice, I gave my wife a tip.

A quick tug from the wrist, up and out, slide the bill in, then let the bikini snap back.

Ah, the outdoors. Great for developing a deeper appreciation of my favorite national monuments.

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Culinary 3 year old

nobody@vox.com(Groove Neuter) — Mon, 14 May 2007 08:42:49 -0500

My eldest wanted to do something special for her mommy yesterday, Mother's Day of course.

I think it had something to do with the Dora episode where she collects ingredients for a cake to bake for her mom.

Which placed me squarely, on a groggy Sunday morning, in the kitchen with her at 6 AM.

My brain can be an unfriendly environment for thought under those conditions.

{George Dickel, the local whisky bottled at 90 Proof, distilled at Cascade Hollow in Tullahoma, is fantastic by the way.
We're directly south of Kentucky Bourbon country, but across that state line it's officially "whiskey" not "bourbon".
Article on "whisky vs whiskey" here
Curiously, though American, George Dickel uses the "whisky" spelling on their label.}

Solution, stare blankly at pantry, while yawning and scratching.

Eyes focused, then not, then focused again on the little cardboard box with cartoon berries on front.

Jello.

My savior.

Hallowed be thy wiggle and jiggle.

Next a successful hunt for a round pie dish under the cabinet.

Graham cracker crumb crust poured into dish and spread evenly, with my eager assistant.

I handled boiling the water for the Jello, but my helper poured in the mix and the cool water to firm it.

Gently poured onto graham cracker crust inside pie dish and into the freezer for a quick set.

Then I chopped bananas and readied the multi-color sprinkles.

Once the goo had begun to congeal, she arranged the bananas on top and scattered the sprinkles across.
(OK I helped guide that a bit.)

Then back into the fridge until the wife woke up for breakfast.

Surprise!

Happy Mother's Day from the 3 year old.

Doesn't taste half bad either.

I even took a picture of the finished product, but wouldn't you know that the cable from the camera to the PC has gone missing during the move.

There was a sighting on day one, but none of us remembers exactly where.

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