Picture Sunday

Hotel Room: $95
Ticket: $10
Gas: $45
WV Turnpike Tolls: $7.50
Seeing The Hackensaw Boys: Priceless

Hello, end of weekenders, and welcome to another road tired and sleepy edition of Picture Sunday.

My weekend started on Thursday. After much worrying, gnashing of teeth, rending of garments, etc, I finally decided to make the trip to Morgantown to see my very own Hackensaw Boys. OK, so I don't own the band, but in their own way they're "mine." I left work at 1:30, came by the Pod to pick up my stuff, and headed north, where I kept heading for 4½ hours till I reached that mecca of redneckedness. Found the hotel with no problems, did a slight bit of freshening up, took about a 10 minute nap, and headed into town till I reached 123 Pleasant St, the venue for the evening.

Of course I was early, as I always am to these things. The first band didn't start till 10, and I got there at about 8. I went to the cafe across the street for a cup of coffee, which didn't take nearly as long as I was hoping, and so I went back to the car for a little while and did my usual, "Geez, I'm alone, I don't want to go into that place alone and sit around like a dork waiting for the Hackensaw Boys and no one likes me anyway and I'm going to have a rotten time" routine till about 8:45. Then I took a deep breath and headed back across the street.

When I got there the place was virtually empty, save for a few people coming through to head to the bar. "Hmm, the bar," I thought, and headed out for a beer, then came back and sat at a table. Within 15 minutes or so, though, three hippie kids came in and started up a conversation with me, and so I was fine. We were having a good old time talking Hackies, and then who should come by but the one and only Ferd (that's Four Hackensaw to some), and he gave me a hug and sat down at the table with us awhile. The mysteriously canceled Rocktoberfest (which was to be today) was a topic of conversation, as was Mr M's now being gainfully employed. "What will become of him," Ferd mused.

I also learned at that time a few things. Nice hippie kids will hold your seat for you while you go get another beer, and that you can smoke in bars in WV, and that hippie kids will also hold your seat for you while you go back to your car to get your smokes, and that this night, the six Hackensaws would be five. Mahlon is still off being a dad, and Pokey was off being, as Ferd so eloquently put it, "A solo southern star," and so there'd be no mandolin player that night. A little disappointing.

The first band started a little after 10, and I ambled off for one more beer, saying goodbye to the hippie kids, then found a place on the floor to worm my way closer to the stage. The first band were a fun little outfit called '85 Flood, and the best thing about them was that they didn't overstay their welcome. When they were through, I got bold and moved myself as close to the stage as I could get.

Where I met some more nice folks after taking a ribbing from them about smoking clove cigarettes, and I met a very nice fellow named Grady who was asking me who all I liked musically, and though he seemed quite young, I was impressed with his knowledge of 80s music. He'd never seen The Boys before, and was hoping they'd do his favorite, "Lonesome Train." They did. Go Grady. Grady also tried to buy me more beer, because he was an extremely nice fellow, but I had to cut myself off since I was driving home. He also called me ma'am.

In short order, the five that were normally six took the stage, and it was a blast. The dancing started immediately, and I was in the middle of it. They opened up with "Gospel Plow," followed closely by "Alabama Shamrock," and really, how can you argue with that.

And the fact that they were mandolinless actually put an interesting spin on things. It changed up their set list a bit and also changed some of their arrangements.

You know, it's great being really close during a concert, but I find myself so close sometimes that I can't get the full band in a shot. Which makes for an "individual pictures" type of Picture Sunday. It's OK, though. You know the roster.

How about Ferd doing a little testifying for us?



With Salvage at his side, of course. Ferd was in rare form Thursday night. He seemed to be having as much fun as I was, and I don't think it would come as any surprise that he was having more beer.

I like this picture because of the look of astonishment Salvage is giving BabyJ.



I mean, he was just singing. He's sung before.

A little more BabyJ, perhaps? I mean, really, does anyone ever get tired of looking at this boy?



Bass, guitar, harmonica, accordion. The boy plays everything. Say hello to Cousin Spits, too, of course, don't make him feel left out.

Finally, my favorite picture of the night.



Now there are some nice boys.

It ended all too soon, but not necessarily too early, as it was after 1:30. I hung around a little while just to get the chance to thank Ferd and tell him I'd see him again soon, hopefully in Thomas, WV (going there the right way this time) in December. I stuck out my hand to shake, and though he was squatting on the stage, he said, "Wait, I gotta hug you," and hugged me and gave me a big kiss. That Ferd's good people.

As I was walking out I walked pretty much into Salvage, who looked at me a little like he was looking at BabyJ above, and said, "Ohhhhhh!" I knew why, and replied, "Yes, our dream died." See, Salvage was the one who was really interested in the idea of the Sauerkraut Band and the Hackensaw Boys trying to do a number together at Rocktoberfest. A short conversation and hug later, and I was out the door.

Back at the hotel by 2:45, didn't go to sleep till about 4, then up at 8:30 the next morning to hit the road home, arriving there just in time to shower, get into the prison known as my dirndl, and head up the mountain for Oktoberfest. Which was fun, as was Saturday night, then it was a few clarinet duets, a movie, dinner with Granny & Paw, and I'm finally home.

And need some sleep.

And now, time for the recipe du jour, and a special announcement.

Tonight will be the first-ever guest recipe. Now, I know I've done dishes suggested by you fine folks, but I'm now opening the floor for any of you to make your own recipe. All you have to do is make the thing, whatever you want, surprise me, and take its picture and send it along to me with a description. I'll turn it into a card for you, and you will become semi-famous. It'll be fun. So do it, I know you want to. Just email me, and I'll help you any way I can.

Tonight's recipe is a wonderful concoction created by no less a person than Mr M himself. It comes from the "Satisfying Dishes" file in cardland, please say hello to it now, Cream of Tobacco Soup.



Leave it to Mr M to cook with the one thing that's always on hand in his home. This is a little number that starts with your basic cream base and Captain Black tobacco. Then when it's about 10 minutes away from fruition, you add a second round of tobacco. This makes it, as Mr M says, "rustic," and gives it texture. It is specified that 2 things are extremely important in the consumption of this dish. You never put grated cheese on it, and you never eat it while wearing a nicotine patch. The soup is served with crackers, and cigarette papers, which are to be rolled and dipped in the soup for eating.

As a special added attraction, we even get dessert with tonight's dish. That would be up in the left-hand corner there, Ramen Surprise, a chunk of ramen noodles with strawberry puree and whipped cream. The surprise is that the noodles aren't cooked, which I guess takes the surprise right out of it, actually, but it does help you to have your teeth firmly in place before trying it.

Many thanks to Mr M, and happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* I know Stennie & I were having a podcast discussion of the rudeness of not stopping for emergency vehicles, and I'm all for doing that, even the police, unless the police are after you, then I suggest you hit the gas and don't look back. However, a question: Why are the police allowed to drive faster than everyone else? Here we are toodling along at the speed limit and the police are just going 70, 80, whatever they want, passing everybody and thumbing their noses at their own rules. I find this very unfair, and I plan to write someone about it.