2.28.2010

three toes

By the light of the full moon, old Cheyenne would saddle his horse and ride out into the Badlands. He'd been riding full moons for years hunting old Three Toes, the crippled wolf that haunted Sage Creek. As the moon rose into the night, old Three Toes would howl and cry. Old Cheyenne would follow the lament into the canyon-like creek bottom among the scattered Cedars and sagebrush. He'd ride over the sand bars and wade the alkali waters that pooled here and there, creating eddies of white clay. His buckskin mare picked its path with care and jerked her head sharply at Three Toes crying.
Last night, the full moon rose and old Cheyenne saddled the mare. He rode out on a dusty buffalo trail and down to the creek. Old Three Toes howled on cue and Cheyenne turned the mare in the direction of the call. The steep embankment was littered with snow and ice and the mare stumbled as she descended. Old Cheyenne, not as spry as he once was, slipped from his saddle and tumbled down the steep bank to the creek below. A broken collarbone jutted from his left shoulder.
Old Three Toes approached silently, surveying the scene. With care, he drug Old Cheyenne from the frigid water and onto the sandy, rocky flat. He chased the mare home and set to howling in Old Cheyenne's yard. There was nobody there to hear. Old Cheyenne died that night, but Three Toes is still out there, howling and crying for his best and oldest friend.

2.26.2010

opening all the gates

I still can't get the parking gate to open when I drive up out of the underground parking. Tonight, Anissa, a very pretty Somali came out of the Central Parking ramp office and after I signed the form, lifted the gate with her special gate-lifting device. One way or the other, it's free parking in a heated underground ramp that would otherwise cost me $18.00 a day, minimum. Yikes! I ain't made of money.
Anissa asked me my name and I confirmed hers. Since I like to work fast in matters of the heart, I figure the next step is meeting her parents and/or extended family, sharing some canjeero and subag (ghee) and sugar followed by black tea in the morning and a proper session chewing khat with the elders in the heat of the afternoon. Forget anything you've heard to the contrary, these folks is just folks and I like them. Eventually, one will say, "Xalwadii waad qarsatey!", the phrase that follows a person who has eloped or has a small, private wedding. They are suggesting a kinship via romance. I hesitate before smiling and decline.

2.25.2010

i can't see (everybody notices)

I can't see very well in the shower. I can't wear my glasses in there because they fog up. I can make out the outlines of my Target brand hair and body wash but if I lose the bar soap, I'm done for. I lost the charger for my toothbrush (ain't they all "powered" these days?) so it refuses to cooperate and is only capable of brushing one tooth at a time. It's dang tedious, brushing that way.
I  can't see my sidekick, Willie. He's in Pierre, SD. Hanging there until I can get a place that will accept his weirdness. It always takes time to get Willie in. He's half feral, part nocturnal and pretty much in charge (he thinks) when he's present.
But what bums me out the most is that I can't see my girlfriend in RC (I moved to MPLS). She is my darling one. Sweeter than my Aunt Iva's Chokecherry Jelly. Flashing green eyes, a smile that would beguile the least among us and a disposition that charms me to death. When she's near, I can't take my eyes off her.
Everybody notices.
I'm a creep.






2.19.2010

jerry willuweit

One of the last of the true SD cowboys passed away last month. Jerry Willuweit, August 7, 1943 - January 14, 2010.
From his memorial:
"He loved trailing cows, breaking horses and playing cards ... [but] Jerry's passion in life was rodeo. From riding bulls and broncs as a young man to steer roping in his later years every aspect of the sport thrilled him. [...] With his oversized silver belly tipped to one side and one pant leg tucked into his boot Jerry could be seen sitting behind the chutes at almost any rodeo. He was a lifetime member of the PRCA."
I haven't met very many cowboys that rode as long and hard as Jerry or had as big a heart. I was lucky enough to ride along once or twice. Today I stopped by the State Brand Board to check on the status of my father's brand (renewal due May 1) and it made me think of Jerry. He most likely helped brand some of my dad's cattle. Rest in peace my friend, I'll see you at the big rodeo upstairs. I'm sure if I mention your name, St. Peter will hand me a beer and let me right in, no questions asked.
PS: I'll bring your rigging.

My foot's in the stirrup,
My pony won't stand.
Goodbye, old partner,
I'm leaving Cheyenne.






2.17.2010

marsha

So an attack is underway in some place called Marsha in Afghanistan. It's in one of the "stan" based countries. I knew a guy named Stan from Aberdeen. He once attacked me with an empty ice cube tray after a foosball dispute and I retaliated with a shot to the thigh using a 2 iron. I can't remember who won the game or the fight, but foosball was big then and often lead to fights.
But more to the point, it depresses me that we would attack a city named after a major figure on The Brady Bunch. I know Marsha deserved a lot of heat. She was tall and pretty and served as the perfect counterpoint to the sourpuss Jan. Plus, there was always that Greg "thing".  Awesome plotlines, intensely fulfilling drama. Cars and bikes and science experiment volcanoes. Jeepers!
So - anyway - this attack in Marsha, what kind of scene is that? Sounds really lame. For one gun and a 100 rounds of ammunition I could have the most kick-ass foosball table ever. Sweet!

2.16.2010

be careful

As you may have noticed, Hootenanny has taken a recent turn towards the culinary arts, adding content and links to food-related material. However, we must caution that care be taken. The tools of this art can become weaponry.
To wit, a line from a local police-blog:
"[Ms.] Lone Hill was arrested on Tuesday after allegedly attacking her victim while in a drunken fit". Lone Hill used a common kitchen knife. Enraged and under the influence, she stabbed her victim in the thigh missing the heart by a mere three feet or so. Had she gone inside, she could have nailed the carotid.
Ms. Lone Hill is in custody tonight. The knife cleared the lab and is in the secured evidence locker. The arraignment is Monday in 7th Circuit Court. Ms. Lone Hill will be charged with aggravated assault. She doesn't have the cash to bail out so she'll sit until she pleads guilty.
Kitchen cutlery is dangerous. If used properly, only children and family pets are endangered. Used malevolently,  they can kill.

2.15.2010

horsemeat avocado burritos

3 lbs horsemeat
6 ripe avocados
2 tbsp olive oil
22 oz rock salt chunks
mentholated petroleum rub
drug


1. leave horsemeat in sun to ripen (minimum 2-3 days depending on weather). horsemeat should smell like spoiled meat. pound flat with large wooden mallet. cut into large meat-circles with metal trashcan lid. transfer to roadway to further flatten horsemeat. remove rocks and other road detritus. boil in area hot spring until softened. horsemeat should be stiff but malleable.

2. place six ripe skin-on avocados in blender. blend avocados until blended. blend again. mix with olive oil. blend again to achieve paste-like consistency.

3. coat horsemeat discs with petroleum rub and rock salt. spread with avocado mix. if desired, add crushed lithium or placidyl. roll prepared discs into burrito shaped tubes.

4. last,  and most importantly, hide the results in neighbor's bushes for eight days. hopefully, neighbor's dog who barks all night-every night and poops in your yard will eat them and die.

(JUST KIDDING! It's easier to just shoot an offending dog with an Amazonian poison arrow.)


2.12.2010

pat's meatloaf

Two pounds venison, beef or pork or any combo of the three.
One onion
One pepper
A few garlic cloves minced
Two stalks celery
Mushrooms if you want.
Sautee all vegetables until soft
Cool down
To the meat and cooled vegetables add:
2 eggs
½ cup milk
1 cup bread crumbs or cracker crumbs.
Mix all together and add salt and pepper to taste Fresh parsley if you have it.
Bake for ½ hour at 350 then top with ketchup that you have mixed some brown sugar in.
Cook until done probably another ½ hour.

2.05.2010

not bad oranges

Not Bad Oranges has disbanded again. It was done before I could get to Minneapolis for the tour strategy meetings and was presented as a fait accompli. I'm not surprised. Things were not coming along well with the tour logistics. No bus, no instruments and no bookings. I guess sometimes it's way too early to consider your band a headliner.
But guys, we could have borrowed Terry's Uncle's van. It's done in a purple inflected Prince-The-Artist theme with eight track (only Prince tapes, pre "formerly known as" era), neon replica Prince guitar and working mirror ball. Terry or Pat have my old guitar which I traded for back in the 2609 Columbus days for a Replacements cassette (When The Sh*t Hits The Fans) that I bought in Sioux City on my way back from NYC. The beast didn't have any strings and I think the neck was warped due its leftward angle but it looked extremely cool.
The trouble started with my request to bring my girlfriend on the tour. I met her at the 311 Bar in NE Minneapolis about 15 years ago. She was a Draghounds groupie at the time. Green eyes and a blue eyed soul. Worked at Mayslacks during the day, just up the street, making roast beef sandwiches. Got all her piercings at St. Sabrina's on Hennepin from my friend Leslie. Got her a job at Psycho Suzie's Motor Lounge. Fell in love. Bought a condo. Got a cat. Started working again.
Long story short, the band doesn't like her. She broke us up once before and they started calling her Yoko. That didn't set well with her. It didn't set well with me either and to move on I moved into my Americana-Roots-Music phase. It was a complete disaster. For both of us. Rick Rubin decided not to produce my album of reworked Lightning Hopkins. My car was repossessed. The cat ran away. We broke up.
But she and I repaired the damage. Fell back in love. And in the process broke up the band once again. Dang! Why can't we have our cake and eat it too? I'll buy some candles! Not Bad Oranges is the second most important thing in my life!


2.01.2010

mpls

The moving is finally underway for real. I arrived in MPLS Wednesday night. Met with new Boss on Thursday. Was formally offered (offer had been made previously, just needed to complete some paperwork) and attended an orientation on Friday. My title is Project Manager as it was with my previous company. I like that title. No one knows what it means, but it sounds important.
I found an apartment in NE MPLS a couple of blocks from the Mississippi River and the old Grain Belt Brewery which now houses mostly advertising agencies, artist's studios, galleries and shops. The neighborhood is rife with coffee shops, neighborhood-type, blue-collar bars and ethnic restaurants. I can see I'll be eating a lot of Vietnamese Cuisine! It's not too far from downtown either whose skyline I can see through my bedroom window. Today I'll stop for lunch at Kramarczuk's Eastern European Deli, pick up some cheese at Surdyk's and later stop by Quang Deli on Nicolet to pick up some Bahn Mi Thit Bale, the best sub sandwhich known to man. No time for Pho though I may grab some for later.
It's great to be back in the City. I've lived in a major metropolitan area since first leaving South Dakota (for good) over 20 years ago. I no longer feel comfortable in a rural environment. I can't explain myself there. Of course, I will miss my very good friends who have remained but I will not miss the isolation and emptiness. I suppose I may return to hunt or fish, but not often. I can do that anywhere and most of my friends live elsewhere now like me.
I'm heading back for the last time on Tuesday. I need to pick up my things and my cat, Willie. He is my sidekick and goes where I go. He'll have lots to do here. My apartment in MPLS has a yard and trees and a shared garden. There should be plenty of bugs and birds to draw his interest. He never went outside in South Dakota unlike his wandering ways in Gilbert, Laveen and Phoenix, AZ where he is from (actually he was born on a horse ranch in Apache Junction, east of Mesa). I can't blame him for his insular behavior, South Dakota is crawling with Sweethearts and Hillbillies. Mostly the latter. Willie couldn't find a Sweetheart in SD, I suppose. They are few and are to be treasured when found because they usually are the best.
So that's the story. Willie and I are moving on - or moving back. To place more like home. Where we belong. Maybe we'll see you at a show. The Magnolias play the entry in April. Spoon will take the mainstage the same weekend. Willie scored tics for the sold-out Cymbals Eat Guitars show at the Cedar. Seems he already has a connection behind the bar at Pizza Luce.