Astral Cheeks

Little Yevgeny is just over her first bout with fever and bacterial poisoning - she went all wimpy there for a spell, back to toddler on demand now thankfully.


Her she is after Mama Newman's brisket.



This is what happens when you get a green basket. Before and after on the roast beets, plus mexican eggs with beet greens and cheese grits.




Front moving in. Pouring now. The tin roof is a pachinko parlor.




Reading about caps, verbatim recital.



Pretty handy on the iphone.





Listening to Soft Pack, coon mating.

Scotty Hotbody

OK, the Nyquil commercials are #2 most insufferable. Atrocious!

Like that Maria Carey Olympics song. Ban her!

We're actually enjoying all of it, Jane thinks anything with a helmet on is a robot. She's hooked. She can also say Bob Costas. This is what I'm talking about: classic rock, ghetto choreography, vests, backflip.






It totally snowed here today. The weathermen were going shitza.




Compulsory mohawk shot.



She's sleeping in this ensemble tonight, the Dukes up.



The real Dr. Dan, Bandaid man. That's for my fans in Korea.




Listening to Coral, "Boxtruck", thinking about a ski trip to Hawksnest, NC, circa 7th grade, during which Neal Hendrix declared to me he was "frenching" everything that moved. Still got it! I miss those molehills.

Are You Picking up What I'm Putting Down, Yevgeny?

The Subway Five Dollar foot long commercials are pure crapsicles. Much worse than the "ice dancing" I've been subjected to. Please let me know who I need to write a strongly worded letter towards. At least Beav lets me guffaw guffaw when the pantsuiters feather finger the crowds and cast coyly raised brows to the peanut hawkers. These adverts remind me of why I should be building cabinets.


What happened to men's figure skating? As Beav pointed out, that used to involve bald dudes in leather vests and bare chests, whipping around to Bruce Springsteen, gayly clapping, doing backflips. Badass! When did this become Knots Landing?


JB, inspired by the patriotism, training for 2024. Let's hope they program beerhunter and washers.


We got culture, Jane and I checked it out.



Daytona, home of the Franklin Mint appreciation society.



Hit the trail this morning, 70 here. Inspired me to come home and bag leaves. Which resulted in some form of rash, on top of massive abdominal cramping, caused by a flat sandwich from a mortuary on wheels.



Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Doug Henning.




Moments after this snapped, finger injury. Dr. Dan, bandaid man, summoned.

Here's a little jig set to some Surfer Blood. Who let the patient out on good behavior?

Cancel.

Yard Dogs

Our neighbors, the Percys, are killing it. Saws ablaze, rocks being smashed and sculpted, piles of leaves appearing. They are renting too, our sister house. I'd say it's inspiring, except I took three naps this weekend and did my damage on the couch. Does suggest we'll ramp it up and put the leaf blower to use shortly. A kegger may provide the motivation.

Did not rattle the rims today at ball. Cheated a bunch, managed some savory chants, missed ten lay ups. It was beautiful out today though, and we planted it on the porch for a bit.




V-day dinner, dad cooked, mom handled poetry. Both winner winner.


The source of my powers.



Jane and Liam, discussing the merits of markers.


KOCPCB.



Jane designed this on Beav's iphone. Many meltdowns followed.


Music class, making her Beethovens.



Down dog, on request.



From ACL, maybe 2005.


Looking forward to the SXSW out of towners.

Currents of Belize

While ago, I posted some pictures of a trip I took to Belize to shoot a piece on Permit fishing with some very accredited locals. It was a glorious adventure, and the kind of thing you feel lucky having been a part of. If you're looking for real gnarly experiences and the off beaten path destination, head to Hopkins. Look up the folks at Blue Horizon, and go fishing with these dudes. Nuts.

The film is finally finished, directed by Bradley Beesley. Linked here, in its entirety:

Currents of Belize from McJ Digital on Vimeo.

Cole Mookers

We've nailed the source of the varmint screeches and shed specific rough housing; COONS! Two of them, easily Jane's size, with the same fatty diaper butt. Busted them shagging in the cooler section of the woodshed. They seemed unfazed. Wouldn't be an issue if Kaiser JaB were on the property. Watched him slay a 35 pounder with a log and Rambo knife once. True story.

Maybe not worth mentioning, unless you assume that escalation will result in some regrettable man-act. Or rabies.

We hit the east side for a party billed as having magic pizza. They had the Ultra Man pinata, this was a beast to crumble. Jane poked it once and determined it of little interest. Fat Albert was playing on the 16MM. Good times.







Helping dad with chili assembly.




Her best Tammy Wynette.


Beav's killer quiche, born of Hunter bacon.



Post-ball mane and swollen cheek. I took a forehead to the kisser, but was most affected by my match-up, whom after every shot - hit or miss - queried his opponents "any questions?". Getting faced on both counts.


New hats arrived.



Two poops, prepping for the Queso Coma.



Just finished the Mighty Quinn starring academy award winner Denzel Washington. Skip it, unless you value your evenings. I'll never get that 90 mins back.

Cuz is 1!

Not quite "Happy Birthday"...
From Jane on the occasion of Cliona Burke McKenna's first birthday:



Happy Birthday Clee!
Love A+W+J