Get your filthy paws off my turkey you dirty elf!

The time is near to celebrate my personal favorite holiday.  No.  Not Christmas, even though I like Christmas just fine.  I’m talking about Thanksgiving.  The red-headed step-child between Halloween and the 800 lb. gorilla in a red and white suit.  I’m talking turkey, dressing (not stuffing Yankees), and pumpkin pie.  Mmmmm…pumpkin pie.  All the other holidays have some sort of gimmick attached to them.  Christmas and Easter have the gift thing.  The 4th of July has fireworks.  Don’t get me wrong, I love those things.  But, Thanksgiving is simple and unique.  There’s really only one thing you do to celebrate it.  Try your very best to eat yourself into a tryptophan-induced coma.

That’s it.

How beautiful is that?

No stress of trying to buy gifts and wondering if they will like what you bought, or if it will fit.  No worrying if this will be the year Uncle Bubba blows the fingers off his good hand with the cherry bomb.  All you have to do is show up and eat.  Thanksgiving?  You better believe I’m thankful.

Another thing I would like to bring up while I have your attention.  I would like to ask that all you obsessive Christmas people to quit trampling Thanksgiving to death with your filthy glitter-encrusted shoes.  There’s no reason I should be seeing Christmas decorations the day after Halloween.  Come on guys.  There’s a whole other holiday in there.  Don’t blaze by it in your hurry to OD on tinsel.  Christmas won’t be any less awesome if you just hold it in a couple more weeks.  I promise.

Just take some time to be thankful this year, before you start “Santa Watch 2010” (said in monster truck commercial voice).  Or you could even be like me and be Meta-Thankful™ .  Because let me tell you, I am thankful for Thanksgiving.


The Secret Sisters

My mother-in-law told me the other day that her best friend’s nieces were about to release an album.  I figured it was a small, local, self-produced album.  Then she showed me the article in the Times Daily (scroll towards the bottom half of the article to read about the sisters).  Turns out I was wrong.

They call themselves The Secret Sisters.  Their debut album, Silver Threads and Golden Needles, is coming out in October, with T-Bone Burnett (O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack, Robert Plant|Allison Krauss Raising Sand) as executive producer.  What I have heard of their music is very retro sounding.  Which isn’t surprising with Burnett as a producer.  Their harmony is fantastic:

Their first single (iTunes link) was released last week.  It’s a cover of the old Johnny Cash song “Big River”, produced by Jack White (The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, The Dead Weather) and featuring him on guitar.  I love it.

I’m really looking forward to hearing what the rest of their album sounds like.  If you get a chance you should definitely check them out.
The Secret Sisters on MySpace

Frequently Asked Question

I have been getting this question from a lot of people lately: Why do you shave your head?  Or it’s twin sister:  Why don’t you grow out your hair?

My hair started falling out when I was about 19.  I started shaving my head when my hair was getting so thin that it was seriously noticeable.  I decided I would get it before it got me.  At this point there is not enough left to do anything with.  So even if I let it grow, all I would have is “The Picard”Which, while awesome, is not the look I’m going for.  This also means there is no real point in attempting to grow my hair back out, other than to make myself look a little older than I already do.

This ends the public service announcement.  Thank you for your attention.

My son is going to hate me one day

Brantley got a classic Star Trek uniform onesie from Think Geek.

Mom sent me this picture she had taken.  I thought it just needed a little something extra.  Please don’t hate me Brantley…

There is something wrong in my brain

Last week, I had one of the most bizarre dreams of my life.

I rarely ever remember my dreams, and the ones I do remember are usually pretty pedestrian.  Dreaming about work, or something from my childhood, etc.  This particular dream, I have no idea where it came from, or why.

The dream began with me riding in the DeLorean from Back to the Future with Marty McFly.  It was the current year (2010), but he had come from 1985.  I can’t remember the exact conversation, but the gist of it was that Doc Brown had gone off the deep end and we had to find him.  Marty wouldn’t tell me exactly what was going on, just that it was endangering the whole space-time continuum.  We then hit 88 mph and went to the early 90s (can’t remember the exact year).  We spent the next several hours driving around street after street lined with stereotypical, suburban ranch houses, looking for Doc’s hideout  He wasn’t hiding very well, because we found the house by the DeLorean parked out front.  We went inside and I saw one of the most horrifying things I’ve ever seen.  Doc Brown had visited himself at various points in his life and assembled a “Family” by kidnapping himself at different ages, from infant to adult. Marty then tried to convince Doc that this was crazy (not to mention that it broke all the rules about meeting yourself that the movies established).  Doc disagreed and pulled a gun on us while holding his infant self (which was just a miniature version of Doc, not really a baby). Then he started screaming, “THIS IS THE ONLY WAY TO FIX IT”.  At which point I woke up in a cold sweat, feeling very disturbed.

I have no explanation for this.  I haven’t even watched Back to the Future in a couple of months.  This came completely out of left-field.  I don’t think I will ever be able to purge the image of Doc holding his baby self out of my head, and I’m sure I will never see the movies the same way again.  I do sort of wish I had stayed in the dream long enough to figure out what could only be fixed by kidnapping yourself at different points in time…

I’m Not Dead Yet

I am slowly beginning to emerge from the fog I have been in since about April 27th.  For anyone who doesn’t know that’s when my son, Brantley, was born.  It has been the best thing that I have ever done, but at the same time it is exhausting.  Ordinarily if someone peed on me, spit their food on me, screamed in my face, or woke me up in the middle of the night I wouldn’t like them very much.  Oddly, when Brantley does it I don’t mind at all.

I haven’t been doing much of anything except working, eating, and sleeping.  This week I have been feeling a little more rested and had some more energy, so hopefully I will be able to get my brain back in gear to blog more often.