Picture Sunday

It's not 9:30 already, is it? Dammit to hell, weekends are fleeting little things.

It was a busy weekend. Began it by working on The Beast, then went to Lowe's to get the materials for the big cabinet paint this week. Did fine on paint, primer, and the like, but in handles and hinges things went off the rails.

Well, I was OK on the handles once I accepted the fact that no handle was going to fit in the old holes left by my current eons-old handles, and that we'd have to re-fill and re-drill. Picked a couple of handles I liked, then finally got it narrowed down to one. Then I just went all hinky in the hinges. I realized I'm going to have to use a different hinge than the ones I have now. They all looked so big and I realized quickly I was No Man's Land, Hinge City. So I left those and thought I'd ask Mr M's expertise. Which I got.

Then it was back home to finally finish up The Beast, a quick if unexpected nap, then out to that nightspot of renown, Los 3 Amigos, to see the one and only Stetsons, featuring Taytie, Andrew, and the rest. Talk about feeling older than the room. Now, I know I wasn't the oldest person there, but I counted. I was the 8th oldest person there. It was 7 olds, me, and a room full of teenagers.

But it was fun. They were actually not only surprisingly good (especially Andrew's vocals), but very endearing in that they played current songs and old songs ("That'll Be The Day" was very good), and that they'd go off on a tangent and start improvising weird shit - sometimes it would end, sometimes it would trail off like a Monty Python skit. One of those, a rousing "Black Betty," had people coming in from the bar and restaurant area to hear, and another, a version of "Milkshake," was just priceless. Anyway, here they are, ladies and gentlemen, your Stetsons:



And here they are again:



(The bikini-clad girl was cardboard, and not part of the band.) And of course, I couldn't let things go without a shot of The Boy at work:



Now - something amazing happened last night. You'll never believe who was there. In fact, when I saw him I just lost all control and ran up and grabbed him and gave him a big hug. Get ready for it - yes, it was dear, brave, valiant, stalwart - Mowing Boy! In fact I was so happy I actually called him "Mowing Boy," and he laughed, either at that or the fact that I attacked him. Dear Mowing Boy. The Navy seems to have done him well, he's bulked up and looks like a young man instead of a scrawny boy.

Ahh, Mowing Boy. He'll be going back to Florida soon to complete his schooling.

Anyway, after the show I hit the road to B'burg and got there very late, just in time to have Mr M read to me from the myriad of textbooks he's studying at the moment. You'd be surprised how amazing "R" and its components can be.

Then it was clarinetting today, where I felt totally out of place because of my inability to read weird time signatures. To be sitting there with two other people well-versed and naturally talented in the area, well, I just kept saying, "I wish you two could just feel for one minute the stupidity I feel right now." But they couldn't, and so it was all futile and I took a little break and let them play duets. Then we went and ate really good hamburgers. The best part of practice.

Then back here. But let's get to The Beast.

Now, it's hard for you to understand how amazing this all is, because no one has seen the "before" Beast. Even in my first pictures of the Poderosa I took a picture of a closed door. Just imagine a room with a chest, some small bookshelves, a table and chair - then total chaos. Plastic bins of clothes, handbags, store bags, boxes, books, backpacks, arts & crafts supplies, wrapping paper, laundry racks - everything - just strewn about the floor willy nilly and upside down.

Now look at this:



And this:



And this, if you dare:



And just to show you how empty my floor is, check this out:



So, The Beast is tamed. Just like The Bumble in "Rudolph," though he doesn't have a "looky what he can do" trick like lighting the Christmas tree. But that's OK, all he has to do is sit there and be clean to make me happy.

And now to the recipe du jour, which is quite bland this week. If in fact fried chicken can be boring. But this isn't just any old fried chicken - this is Fried Chicken New Orleans!



So, what makes fried chicken New Orleans-worthy? Let's see: well, basically cayenne pepper in the breading. Woo hoo. I'm sure the city of New Orleans is peeing its pants with excitement at knowing cayenne pepper has gotten their name on a recipe card. However, the cucumber boats are exquisite, and there should be some potato salad somewhere on that card that's missing, and cherry tomatoes? Just there in a Tupperware container? Couldn't you at least marinate them or put decorative flags in them or something? Apparently not.

However, also missing from the picture is the suggested dessert, brownie ala mode, which I'd personally kill someone for if I could have.

Happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Watching the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame ceremonies, because nothing else is on. The Pretenders are a mere shell of their original selves, but anyone who made "Tattooed Love Boys" deserves a sacred and permanent spot in the Hall. Oh, and there's Rod Stewart, inducting Percy Sledge. We all know about Rod, don't we? Poor Rod. I'll be he won't do that again....
* I'm going to try to gird my loins and garner enough strength to start my taxes tonight. Probably won't take me a half hour, but I just can not make myself get started. Oh, in fact, I haven't done my Community Band mileage sheet yet, so maybe that gives me an excuse to put it off till tomorrow.