The wife and I got a sitter last night and decided to stroll the Music Row honky-tonks, tourist-style.
The downpour began just as we'd parked in an outdoor lot, a few blocks over from Broadway.
Our first attempt to escape the precipitation netted us Printer's Alley and the Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar.
Just past the nude karaoke sign of the Brass Stables, we encountered our first raging drunk, stumbling his way toward a dumpster, which he attempted to lean against and pan-handle us, but his tongue couldn't get a handle on his pitch.
The Boogie Bar was dead and the $10 cover charge act wasn't going to be on for two hours, so we made our way over to Music Row proper.
A short-ish stroll to Layla's Bluegrass Inn later we arrived for the last 45 seconds of an energetic hillbilly act, and got our drinks to mind us over for the 20 minute changeover.
I've caught the last seconds of that band twice now, and really should go a smidge earlier sometime.
We were discussing a move to another venue when the rain went from downpour to apeshit.
We ordered another round and a real fire-cracker, Jerry Lee Lewis style, piano-man began a barrage.
Brandon Giles and the Tricky Two had some good originals and tasteful, spirited covers that played true.
The rain ended, our drinks were empty, and it was time to pick up the kids all too soon.
Just not soon enough to save a ringing in my ears.
I'm getting to aged for this honky-tonk business.
My wife's reaction to this was, "Boy, you could get all the ladies with this drink."
The base is either lemonade or lemon-lime soda (I've used both.)
Then two or four shots of vodka depending on the quality of the day.
Add cranberry-strawberry juice cocktail until the color is about right.
A squirt of concentrated lime juice.
Then squeeze an orange into the drink, reserving one slice for garnish.
Yesterday was our 12 year anniversary, 10 of them recognized by the law.
Let it burn motherfucker!
Once you have been tagged, you have to write a blog w/ 10 weird, random things, facts, habits or goals about yourself. At the end choose 10 people to be tagged, listing their names and why you chose them. Don't forget to leave them a comment ( "You're It") and to read your blog. You can't tag the person who tagged you. Since you can't tag me back, let me know when you've posted your blog so I can see your answers.
10 Random/weird facts, habits, or goals about Groove Neuter:
1) I disliked my hometown so much, that I stayed there 20 years, to make sure that when I left I would not need to go back... ever.
2) Said hometown was in the United States of America, however from certain points we could drive North into Mexico.
3) I used to enjoy, actually relish, playing volleyball in 128 degrees during the summer at the city parks. Yes, there was that little else to do that was free and available to minors.
4) I have stood in four states simultaneously.
5) I have had a primary residence and lived in four time zones.
6) I have worked for a private company, a publicly traded company, and a privately held company again, without changing employers.
7) My idea was to name our daughter Tesla Nicole, so that her initials would be T.N.T. (because she would be dynamite) however, the wife had other ideas, and life is generally preferable when she prevails.
8) I have a generalized dislike of technology and didn't learn to type until freshman year of college.
Ironically, my first job out of college was with a dot.com in Seattle and my final position before leaving the company was a Tier 2 Tech Support Team Manager. I still have a non-specific distrust of technology.
9) 10 years after driving Smiley back home from a party before university graduation, hungover, in my truck; I was driving Smiley back home from Memphis/Graceland, hungover, in the same truck.
10) Smiley was married to my wife (on a college tv murder-mystery fiction show) which is, how she and I met.
There was also a subsequent incident involving a rolling on the ground tussle for a frisbee during a three-flies-up game between my future wife and I.
I think the frisbee was thrown by Smiley as well.
And if it seems like I mention him a lot, it comes honest, because I've known him since we were 12.
I like wandering through the grocer and being inspired by...
what's on sale.
Particularly the "going bad" clearance sales, if it's something I can fix for dinner that night.
Yesterday my browsing was rewarded with 8oz of fresh mushrooms for $1 (down from $2), two Moroccan artisan olive loafs $1.50 each (down from $4.50), grated Romano cheese 5oz. $2.19 (down from $5) and a pound of fresh strawberries for $1.50 (down from $4).
I already had rice at home and a pan full of sausage grease from the morning, so I used some garlic, onion, spices, the mushrooms and Romano to turn that into a Risotto after lots of stirring and adding just enough liquid to keep the rice barely covered (minus the white wine that the Wife doesn't care for.)
Carved the olive loaf tops in a "v" trench, removed the top, added cooked chicken breast slices, and filled the trench with my sort-of Risotto, and baked them to crisp for a few minutes before serving.
The strawberries for dessert were cut and soaked in the tiniest bit of Balsamic Vinegar and sugar.
For years the wife and I have been making a McDonald's mutation sandwich which we dubbed the Beef N' Bird.
Equal parts double-cheeseburger and McChicken.
Discard one set of buns (i.e. let the kids eat them when they swoop in to take a break from the playground.)
Combine the meats, sauces, and assorted veggies (term used loosely)
between remaining set of buns and there you have it.
The Beef N' Bird.
I was inspired by this when preparing dinner last night and classed-up (ever so slightly) the original concept.
Gourmet Beef N' Bird:
Pan-fry a large medallion of beef sausage until crisply browned then cut in halves and cook two chicken tenderloins pan-fried in the beef sausage drippings.
One large leaf of Romain lettuce placed on a plate, with a thin layer of sun-dried tomato pesto spread over it, then sprinkled with grated Romano cheese.
When the meats have cooled slightly (so not to wilt the lettuce) alternately place sausage halves and tenderloins on top of the Romain leaf.
Drizzle spicy wing sauce or BBQ lightly over the meats and serve.
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My yen and yang seem to swirl around food-stuffs.
This past week I, among other things, went grocery shopping and got taken out to dinner.
You know the stereotype of the slow moving grocery line caused by a coupon-clipper, paying with cash and exact-change, who doesn't begin to start rummaging for these items in her massive saddle-bag until she's verified a price-match for every item scanned and then made sure all the bags made it into the cart?
I fear that I might become that person.
Twice in the past week I've picked out items, checked them out, paid for them, and not gotten home with them.
I suspect it is because I always have the kids with me when I'm shopping and the clerk, bagperson, and myself are usually distracted with them being cute when it comes time to put the bags back into the cart.
The latest instance was milk.
I picked up six, paid for six, and only got four home into the fridge.
(half-gallons mind you, they were on sale and thus less expensive per volume than the full gallons.)
However, as cosmic balance, the Millionaire and his wife were in town and I got taken out to dinner.
Chicken Oscar at Merchant's upstairs dining room and 18 year old Macallan scotches.
I'm going to make the choice to be really happy about the meal out, the good booze, and the after show at Tootsie's.
After all, no point crying over milk you paid for but were too lame to remember to put in your cart, so your 2 year old could have spilled it when you got home anyway.
Success.
Got the Notary cornered along with two of the tellers at the bank branch to act as my witnesses for my will.
One peculiarity in the process.
To determine if I was of sound mind, the Notary asked me a few questions.
First was, "So, you just moved here last summer?"
Easy one, "Yup."
It was the follow-up to that which threw me.
"Have you found a church yet?"
Recovering, quickly, well it felt quick to me, I reply, "Sure, yeah, we've looked around and settled on (fill in name here because it's where we got my eldest daughter into affordable preschool.)
Banker/Notary: "Well, that's fine, but if you ever feel like joining a community of passionate believers, my church is up on (local road name here) and we'd love to have you join our fellowship."
Not the kind of witnessing I thought I'd get to legalize my will.
I guess church attendance qualifies as exhibiting a sound mind in these parts.
"Uh, yeah, sure, I'll talk to the wife about it." One of the joys of marriage is being able to use the spousal-conference as a reason to not do anything immediately and be non-committal.
Then while the tellers fill out all their various info to make the will official and I'm a captive audience; he goes on about all the benefits about moving all of our funds to his bank and all the other various account add-ons he can push on me.
So, first he wants to save my soul; then he wants all my cold hard cash.
I shall keep both to my own counsel.
But I'm all legal, official, and fixed up to die.
Gimme an F...
Gimme an I...
Gimme an S...
Gimme an H...
What's that spell?
Taco Salad with Lemongrass Chicken Spring Rolls.
I had the eldest daughter assist with this one.
Just shy of 4, she was able to shred the romaine lettuce leaves by hand.
She also sprinkled the chopped onions into the skillet with the hamburger while it was browning.
Then she poured a little of both ranch dressing and cheesy pasta sauce onto the salad and mixed it in with a spoon.
Finally, she crushed the (generic) chili cheese Fritos by hand and stirred them in.
By then, the frozen Lemongrass Chicken Spring Rolls were coming out of the oven and ready to be placed for presentation just as my wife arrived home from work.
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."