27 December 2023

My Famous Pea Soup Recipe

My Famous Pea Soup Recipe Take a knife to that ham bone, removing all viable chunks over say thumb size, and remove the sad bone portion to a large crock pot. Chop up the ham remnants. Try not to eat too much. Add water to cover, along with a large onion roughly chopped, and about the same amount of chopped celery. (You got a bunch of celery, didn't you. And some pimento cheese. And it's all left over save one tablespoon of the cheese, and half a stick of celery.) Put it on low. Leave it alone. Don't even look at it for at least 4 hours. Have a drink or 8. Take a nap. Take the dog for a walk. Now leave it alone for another couple hours. Who's a good boi! Yes you is! Now you can look at it. Pull out the bone, which by now should resemble something found in the Sahara. Good! Add liquid, and by liquid I mean that pot liquor from cooking the ham, what drained into the roasting pan what you cooked the ham in. Dump in 2 bags of dried split peas. With the ham chunks. If that's not enough, use some of that turkey stock you got on the back burner, or that half bottle of cheap Chardonnay. Water can be used, but, really, WHY? Get it back up to a slow simmer, and start adding leftovers. Roast potatoes with baby carrots, mushrooms, and onion = good. Sweet potatoes? Not so good. They go into pancake batter. Asparagus goes into a quiche. Leftover pies are discommended (they go into ice cream). God alone knows what happens to that sad sad sad green bean casserole with the Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup and French's Fried Onions. (Please clean up after your dog). Should yield about 6 quarts, which can be frozen until Hell freezes over (found some 8 year old – wonderful!) Serve: as a soup with some nice bread, maybe a dollop of sour cream or plain yogurt and a sprinkling of paprika, as 'mushy peas' with fish and chips, or with a 'pork pie floater' should you be a Strine. Bon Apetit!

30 November 2023

The3 signs of the times Oh dear. Winter is rolling in to Houston. Latitude 29.7633N. Same as, well,Cairo Egypt. We get actual snow maybe once every 10 years or so. We take pictures and revel in the novelty. Some folks come from colder climes, and stoke the fireplaces. They must all be upper crust, because none of them seem to burn the trash. Seriously. You have 15 cubic yards of un-collapsed Amazon shipping boxes there by your driveway where you park your Tesla. Re purpose that cellulose waste! Generate heat and light while reducing landfill! Composting that ash along with your coffee grounds and other kitchen waste will bring your veggies up a treat next Spring! Oh, sorry. I didn't realize. Too busy to make my own coffee, it comes from a drive-through window, and really, who, in today's economy, has the time or energy to cook at home? Got DoorDash on Quick Dial!

16 November 2023

Friend

A friend of a friend told me about a person I might have known who was down on her luck. Living under a bridge with her dog and a bunch of meth users. Well, it turns out that we were friends back 30 years ago. I do what I can. Hold her hand going to find a women's shelter (she's been through a lot, none of it nice). Easiest way into a shelter is from a rehab (although she claims she's clean). (Rape and abuse are not the preferred entrees). Got her into a hospital, and then her ward was mptied to allow a group of drug addicted sexual predators in need of rehabilitation. With one white woman. Ball's back in my court. She can't stay there. And her dog misses her (I'm fostering the dog, right?). She's been there long enough to get her meds sraightened out.

02 November 2023

PHOBIA?

A dictionary will tell you that a 'phobia' is an irrational fear. But it is now used as a universal phrase of dismissal. 'Ah, that's homophobic!' I'm not afraid of homosexuals. I find some of the displays distasteful (looking at you, Sisters of Divine Indulgence and suchlike), but other than a moral distaste I have no problem. I have a problem with wide open spaces. It's not fear, it's simply that they make me realize my cosmic insignificance. I don't like tight spaces. I've had building joists collapse on me and had to be dug out. Fear? Yes. Irrational? No. Now, accept (arguendo) that a quarter of the world's population belonged to a group whose stated purpose was to kill or to bring into submission the rest of the world, that they have access to nuclear weapons, and that dying in pursuit of their goals was a good thing. This would be something to be feared, am I right? Completely rational reaction?

16 September 2023

A Love Story

She was a a lovely woman, and he a lonely man, who met in a quiet pool. Both had intended to clean themselves of weary work. The lady blushed. 'You must not gaze upon anything I do not show! But you may help me by washing my back'. 'Happily' he replied. He enjoyed washing her back and washing her hair, and pretty much all the rest of her. Because, seriously, if you've ever bathed ANYTHING like that, you really have to pay attention to everything. 'How, is it, sweetest dryad, that you must bathe alone, and rely upon the aid of a lonely traveler?' And she replied 'Can you swim?' 'Yes, sweetness, to the qualifications of the Cub Scouts, the Boy Scouts, the US Marine Corps, and even those of the US Navy SEALS Corps. And we can only be drowned by the embrace of a virgin mermaid.' 'Well, Sailer, what you waiting for! You WANNA die?'

29 June 2022

Moving

I hate it. But it's cathartic in a fashion. I never really liked those armchairs, so I set 'em at the kerb. Hour later? They gone, to a better place I hope. I filled a wheelie bin with torn sheets, threadbare towels, smelly throw pillows. Then another wheelie bin. Working on #3. I don't have a new address, so this is going into my mother's garage. One (1) really nice leather sofa, gift of one of my brothers. 7 tall kitchen bags of clean clothes and linens. 5 guitars (2 acoustic, 3 stratoid), with 3 compact amps. 2 boxes of kitchen stuff. Well, tools. I own almost as many tools as I do books,(8 bookcases full) and they're much denser. Most are at a jobsite (secure, trust me!) so it's only my mechanic's chest (~200 lb), my bed, and my computer that will be in the last load. I've lived in this 'hood for almost 20 years. Hope I can find an affordable place nearby. Had a number of girlfriends during that time. None ever stayed the night with me. Stayed with them, yes, but just never dropped in on me. I suppose I could hire one, but (1) budget, and (2) I require a serious emotional attachment for sex. 'Dial a Doxie' doesn't work. Hydraulic failure. Don't rise to the occasion. I occasionaly remember that I'm not 22 anymore. Back then (and it was only, oh shit years ago) horizontal, female, and cute were my guidelines. Had my heart broken back in high school. Played around, then fooled around and fell in love again. Heart got broken again after almost 5 years. That's like grownup, innit? Long Term Relationship! Back to hfc guidelines. Got all married and shit. Had KIDS. I fucked this one up big time. hfc. hfc, nice chick way out in the suburbs. She died. She was wonderful, didn't press me for meetings when I was recovering from TB, and was very kind to me when I was blind (Yeah, cataracts. It was such a wonder to see her for the first time after almost 3 years together). hfc no longer makes it.

13 May 2022

Lovely Day, or Friday the 13th, advance edition

Sometime around dawn (0930) my friend Wendy rings me up. Can I give her a hand loading her bikes on a rented trailer to run them over to the shop? Not a problem. She picks me up in her Subaru Outback, and asks if I have any tiedown straps, as she neglected to snag them from the U-Haul place. They were supposed to be included in the rental. I, of course, have no tie-down straps. I don't have a trailer. Or a truck. Or anything with an internal combustion engine for that matter. I suggest a quick run to Harbor Freight, which is reasonably near her house-and-a-pool. So we head in that direction. 'Hang right here on Fondren, over to 59, and then left'. 'Nah, it's up by Gessner'. She's driving, so, WTF. Get to Gessner and 59, she hangs a left onto the SB feeder. 'Pretty damn sure it's the other way', but not driving, not my gas. The trailer is rattling behind us. Yes, the Harbor Freight IS in fact by Fondren. Buddy of mine used to live right there in that block, I know the 'hood. We pull up and I inspect the trailer. 'Is something wrong, JC?' 'Just looking to see if it says 'Radio Flyer'. 20 minutes of misdirection. Back to the house-and-a-pool, and Wendy does a very nice job of backing the trailer up the driveway. And now the fun begins. Harley Davidson motorcycles are lots of things. Iconic. Musical. Elegant. Classic. One thing they are not is light. On reflection, dropping $20 on a come-along at HF would have been a worthwile investment. I thought there was one on the trailer Tried rigging a yoke using the tie-down straps. Fail. Had to give out a shout to a youth down the street to push the fucker with its $2000 custom paint job up on to the trailer, and here's a shout out to that kid. Bravo! 'Um, JC?' Oh. Busted a knuckle there, didn't I. Right hand is covered with red stuff. First blood, motorcycle. Put that fucker into serious bondage. 2 turns and it's on its side. Nothing to do but power on, onward to Pearland. Okay, I know where I am now. 35S, there's an alpaca farm just down the road a ways here. Pull into the Harley shop. Get it upright, off the trailer, and a chorus of 'ouches'. 'You could drop a hydraulic punch inside the tank and just pop that sucker out' ''But the paint...' 'Lookit! It's just a bit shorter than the Harley blazon, just move it down a couple inches...' On the road again, back to the house-and-a-pool, to load up the Honda Rebel 250. Shit. Did I turn off the heat under the meatballs and tomato sauce? Mind making a slight detour? No, I did not remember to turn off the heat. Low heat, so Malliard reaction, but no smoke or anything. Off again. Honda goes onto the trailer like a dream, new tiedown tech leaves it vertical the whole way. Hey, I know this 'hood! Pull into the shop, Wendy goes to back the bike off the trailer. 'Center it! Center it!!!!' Gets her ankle caught between the bike and the trailer rail. I have zero mechanical advantage. Got my shoulder in the bar, and manage to flag down a dude in a pickup. We lift the bike off her leg. Thanks dude. Was about to crush her ankle. Head back. 'Damn. I FORGOT TO LEAVE THE KEYS!' '?' 'Both!' Drop off trailer downtown. 'Dude, you bleedin!' I seem to have split the nail of my right index finger up to the cuticle. No biggie. Out to her place. Looking at a 70 mile loop, but without the rattletrap trailer, thank God. Out to the Harley guy, no sweat. 35 in towards town, turns into Old Telephone Road, up to Wayside, turn here! No, other way! 20 minutes later... drop off the keys And on towards home. I know this 'hood! Grab 90 where it splits off, oh. Missed it. End up in the lemming mass. Pay no attention to your GPS! "Follow Holmes Road 10.3 miles". Holmes Road closed. Dogleg right. "In 700 feet, make a U-turn, then take a right on Holmes Road". Shut up, bitch. 200 yards and slip onto Bellfort, I say. So we do. Houston's a BIG place, but you live anywhere long enough and you get to know it. Dave lived there on Fondren. Couldn't give you directions to his place now. I think it's Tonga Tonga. Seriously. Used to drive past the alpaca farm on my way to gigs down in Angleton. Dropped the Honda off near the TeleWink Cafe, couple blocks from my old friend Linda. Don't trust your GPS when you have a native guide.