Picture Sunday

Hello, end of weekenders, and what a weekend it's been. And welcome to another round of Picture Sunday.

My weekend began Thursday night, or the seedlings of it did. I decided what a nice idea it would be if I cleaned the hell out of my house that night, since I was going out of town Friday, and then on Saturday I could come back to a nice house and not worry about anything the rest of the weekend. About somewhere halfway through mopping my kitchen floor, I heard a *twang*. Actually, it was more of a *twonnnng*. It was not unlike the '60s cartoon sound of a spear twanging into the earth. (Those of us who have our TVs on every waking hour remember sounds like that, thanks.)

And so my back was out. It was so out it was in. Thursday night was miserable, and Friday morning was more so. I thought about canceling my trip, but found everything I'd booked was non-refundable, and as I don't have $100 to light up with a match, decided to head on out.

And after all, I mean, it was a trip to see the Hackensaw Boys.

I drove. I drove five hours, two of it in the pouring rain. Got to the hotel, and decided maybe it was a good idea to bulk up on some Tylenol before I went. I did.

Got to the bar, which is my favorite place to see them, heard a soundcheck, said hello, got hugs and some conversation, a couple of beers, and then went to have some coffee. Came back, a couple more beers, the show started, and even though I was still in pain, I was right at the stage, so I had something to hold onto while I gingerly bounced around.

The boys were great. Probably my favorite set yet. Only one song I can think of I would have liked that was left out, and some songs that for my money were getting a little long in the tooth were out of the set. They rocked, they hollered, they stomped, and I just love those guys. What joy they have in them.

And you know who else rocked? The crowd. Normally I'm oblivious to crowds, they're just minor annoyances to me, but the house was packed and there were some die-hard Hackensaw fans there. They knew the songs, and they were nice folks, and, well, let's give them some appreciation.


















Now being so close to the stage as I was, of course again I couldn't seem to get all six Boys into a shot. Poor Plantain Hackensaw, who I talked to a while on Friday and found to be very, very nice guy (real name: Sean), got left out of the banner shot there at the top of the blog. So let's give him a little time in the spotlight.
















And of course, not to be left out is Baby J Hackensaw, who as he was coming up to me on Friday, said, "I met your friends," while making a pinching motion on his cheek. (Those of you in the know know that Stennie saw the boys in LA recently, and pinched his cheek.)
























Boy, look at Baby J's arms. He must do a lot of yard and brushwork, or own a cat like Mr M's.

It was at the halfway point of the show that the stage, which had until then been at my waist, suddenly was hovering around my nose. And also suddenly, I was unnaturally hot. I asked someone in that great crowd to hold my place and watch my stuff, and had to vamoose for a while. And when I did, I learned something.

You know, I'm always learning lessons at Hackensaw Boys gigs. Don't be afraid to talk to a Hackensaw, don't use Mapquest directions under any circumstances, don't be afraid to hand your camera over to a hippie to take some photos. Friday, it was: Don't drink four beers, a cup of coffee, take four Tylenols and forget to eat the entire day.

It wasn't pretty. Three songs of heaving, though, and I was back in my rightful place taking pictures.

But back to the show. Who always has the best seat in the house? Not me, even at the front of the stage. It's Sherman, of course.


















In fact, Friday was a banner night for Sherman. After hanging on the speakers for a while, he decided to hang out with Baby J and Plantain when the Boys came to play right at the front of the stage. But he's rather small, you see.

























And then, out of the blue, after taking the above picture, I looked up and there was Salvage Hackensaw motioning for me to give him Sherman. He actually made it to the stage.

























Thanks, Salvage. Major photo opportunity there.

Anyway, it was a wonderful night, I'm very glad I went, and I still feel like complete and utter hell. The back is still out, I can't sit, lie down, or stand. Walking is OK, though. I need to just go outside and walk till I'm better, and see where I end up. Maybe at the doorstep of one of you fine folks.

And to the recipe. I was communing this afternoon with Mr M and the DeepFatFriar, for they'd invited me down for a dinner of bunny and vegetables (I'd never eaten bunny before, and it was very good), and we worked up tonight's fare. It was something, let me tell you. DFF was going for tricky wordplay to come up with a recipe, Mr M was going for the Yuck Factor, and I was looking for something with meaning. I won out. And so will you please welcome, from the "Wear Gloves" file at cardland, Popcorn Flambé.

























Yes, the finger food I wouldn't recommend you eat with your fingers. All you need for this recipe is some popcorn, a very sturdy skillet, and something to douse your popcorn with. Light it up and, well, to be honest, all I can hope for is that you experience the thrill I did when Mr M lit that popcorn and it whooshed into that bigass flambé. It was a thing of beauty, and I mean that.

By the way, Popcorn Flambé? An outdoor dish. Please.

Happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* My back hurts. I have a month to get over it. Next Hackensaw Boys concert, October 19th.