No rockets, just red glare.
Here are some fireworks from the evening of July 2.
A little early, true, and no tanks were in evidence.
But still, boom, amirite?
Archive for the ‘Holidays’ Category
Happy Fourth
July 4, 2019Sinko de Mayo?
May 5, 2019
More like “Sinko del Turko,” actually.
Nollaig shona duit
December 25, 2018
I love this maple in the back yard. It always seems to be reaching out for something. Probably the warmer weather toward the southwest.
Here we are again, gathered around the old bloc na Nalloig beneath the freeway, trying to keep both warm and unnoticed by The Authorities, which is not an easy thing in these days of modern times.
Herself and I enjoyed our traditional Christmas Eve dance last night (one of us was limping a bit), and this morning while sipping our coffee we listened to my cousin Joseph Thompson and his colleague James Bishop-Edwards performing their arrangement of J.S. Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” from their album “Baroque Masterworks for Two Guitars.”
We’ve downsized the old solstice tree. The cats are less likely to try climbing this one.
Now “Performance Today” is rocking the house, ’cause that’s how we roll on Christmas.
There are no gifts under the tree. There’s not much room beneath it, for starters. And we’ve been fortunate enough to be able to buy things as we deem them necessary, rather than delaying gratification until Dec. 25. It helps that we really don’t want much.
So instead of littering the floor with wrapping paper we jotted down some notes about organizations in need of financial support. This year we went heavy on animal rescue, free speech, independent journalism, justice, and outfits that help those whose tribulations often go unnoticed because they don’t have free internet, scads of executive time, and a nice big White House from which to make their case.
Happy happy joy joy to thee and thine. May your days be merry and bright. And if you feel like kicking up your heels a bit, give a listen to “The Rebel Jesus,” from The Chieftains and Jackson Browne. I bid you pleasure and I bid you cheer, from a heathen and a pagan on the side of the rebel Jesus.
The day after
November 23, 2018
Chicken cacciatore as envisioned by Emeril Lagasse, a gent of Canuck-Portagee extraction but a Cajun by temperament.
As is often the case, Turkey Day was not turkey day at El Rancho Pendejo.
Longtime inmates of the asylum will recall that we generally cook something other than the usual on Thanksgiving, and yesterday was no exception.
I went with a pairing from our greatest hits — chicken cacciatore a la Emeril and a side of stir-fried succotash with edamame from Martha Rose Shulman — while Herself contributed a delicious apple crisp from Diane Kester via Allrecipes using local apples supplied by a colleague.
As I rooted through Thanksgivings past it struck me that this iteration of the Dog Blog recently reached its 10-year anniversary. As hard as it may be to believe, it was in 2008 that we shifted over from the old self-hosted WordPress model so that all y’all could contribute comments, and those comments have been part of what makes the place hop.
Anyway, while I was zipping around and about in the Wayback Machine, and just ’cause I could, I snatched up 10 years’ worth of Thanksgiving posts for your amusement, a little waddle down the Memory Lane Buffet. Grab a tray, click the link, and help yourselves.
A friendly gesture
November 22, 2018
Shut up, kid.
There’s a chain across this dump and a big sign that says “Closed on Thanksgiving.”
Here’s hoping that you’re all having a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat. Don’t forget to pick up the garbage. Look out for Officer Obie, the judge, and the seeing-eye dog.
And if the “Alice’s Restaurant Back By Popular Demand Tour” comes around on the guitar, well, remember — if you want to end war and stuff you gotta sing loud.
Bring out your dead
October 31, 2018
That’ll be ninepence. And a happy Halloween to you.
International Cat Day
August 8, 2018
Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment), at ease.
“Today is ‘International Cat Day,’ you say? When is it not?” enquires ’Is Lardship.
He’s not kidding, y’know.
Tanks, but no tanks
May 25, 2018
“Goddamnit, just look at that traffic. I knew we should’ve taken that left turn at Albuquerque.”
More than 41.5 million of us will be traveling this weekend, most of us via suburban battlewagon, according to AAA.
What, you thought they were all taking the electric bus? Brother, have I got a bridge for you.
My man Hal Walter beat an estimated 760,000 of his fellow Coloradans to the exodus, motoring north on Thursday to help his mom celebrate her 80th birthday. But he should meet plenty of them on the way back to Weirdcliffe, especially if he’s late getting to Mile High and Bibleburg, the traditional pinch-points along Interstate 25.
“Plain and simple, people just aren’t worried about pump prices,” said AAA Colorado spokesman Skyler McKinley, who predicted “a busy summer travel season.”
Hm. Maybe so. But Herself and I will be staying put, for this weekend, anyway. Traveling on holidays is like pub-crawling on St. Patrick’s Day — strictly for amateurs.
Thus we will be riding our bikey bikes, and pulling some weeds in the back 40, and listening to the little girls next door squeal as they run through the sprinklers surrounding the nice little bit of lawn that their parents just had installed for their summertime enjoyment.
What are all y’all up to?
Sinko de Turko
May 5, 2018
¿Tengo sed? Claro que si! Haz que llueva, pendejo.
Come the dawn, after a long night’s duty, Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) likes to refresh himself with a drink from the sink, holiday or no holiday.
And speaking of no holiday, at least one learned sort thinks Cinco de Mayo may be one of them there — created largely to sell beverages, and plenty of them too.
“It’d be like if the Fourth of July were reduced to beer and hot dogs,” said UCLA prof David Hayes-Bautista.
Dude. How long you been on this side of The Wall, ese? I bet you can’t find three gabachos off campus who think the Fourth is about anything else.
Happy New Year
January 1, 2018
The evening meal consisted of bean burritos smothered in green chile with a side of Mexican rice. Dessert? Raspberry cobbler.
It was a quiet New Year’s Eve around El Rancho Pendejo.
Since I no longer smoke, drink or dance the hoochie-koo, I’m no fun on the big night. And we didn’t have any invites to fancy shindigs at which I might not act the fool. So we spent the day catching up with distant friends and family, cooking a bit of this and that, and going to bed long before the ball dropped in Times Square.
Neighbors with more stamina blew me out of a sound sleep as 2017 sequed into 2018, discharging their muskets, flintlocks and blunderbusses with wild abandon. If there was any body count, it didn’t make the morning paper, no doubt because those misfits were out in the street banging away too.
Having already achieved perfection I have no New Year’s resolutions. I’m taking a 30-day break from Twitter that may become permanent because I think it’s making my head fat and I’d like to be able to squeeze into my old hats again. Plus I think there may be more productive ways to pass the time, like pounding sand down a rathole, pissing into the wind, or baying at the moon like some infernal hound.
And there’s riding the bike, too. In 2017 I managed 2,767.8 miles, more than in 2016 but without a single, solitary tour. Bad Adventure Cyclist! Bad, bad, bad! Go sit in that office chair and think about what you’ve (not) done! And then blog about it.
This unspeakable sloth will persist throughout today. After a light breakfast Herself and I plan a short New Year’s trail run. At some point the black-eyed peas and cornbread will make an appearance, and the burritos smothered in green may get an encore, too. The raspberry cobbler, alas, is a goner.
Meanwhile, happy happy joy joy to thee and thine, and a thousand thank-yous for popping round the old cracker barrel during 2017. Let’s do it some more in 2018.
