Fire People

Well, much to my chagrin, I found out today that "Ramblin' Root Beer" is no longer made; it was a Pepsi product, and it was replaced by Barq's, which, as I mentioned a few days ago, sucks. Or, as Monty Python would put it: "it has a tast like an Aboriginie's armpit." I apologize to all my outback friends . . .

There is a whole root beer culture out there, and it is kind of interesting to see the history of all the brands. Another great one was Hires, or I should say "is" Hires, since apparently one can buy this today. Hires is made by the Cadbury-Schwepps company. Arent you so interested in this? Hires was the first mass produced root beer, manufactured with the claim, like NO ONE ELSE seemed to suggest back then, that it was a "cure all" or "pancea" (that was for you jay and john). Enough root beer.

Today Sally and I worked outside for most of the day. I had some scrap wood from my friend Krazy Karl, so I figured I would build a trellis, since Thomas P. got me some Clematis for father's day--Clematis, for those who don't know, is an extremely viny plant that will climb all over anything it can; it produces really pretty red flowers, but not until next year. A picture is included for your viewing pleasure. I took a two hour nap while Amanda read her book outside--I was so deep into sleep that I didn't even hear the phone ring; I missed out on doing some great Striper fishing with my friend Dave. Oh well. I was tired from A.J.'s bachelor party last night. Tony and I headed up to Strong to meet Uncle Dana at his house, have a couple of drinks at his FANTASTIC bar which is being constructed in his basement, and then head up to Salem, Maine, which is think is one of the T-R18 types of towns (that is what they call towns in Maine that are so far into East Japeepie that they dont merit their own name). There, at the Reed camp, we watched a bunch of Iraqi war vets drink Bud, shoot each other with paint ball guns that cost more than my house, and fire off "Desert Eagle's," these pistols that I think the special forces are using over in Dirkadirkastan--they fire 50 caliber "bullets;" you can watch the fire spray out of the barrel as they pull the trigger. Then we ate some of the best venison steak I have ever had--shot by Gilbert Grape up in Anacosti Island in Canada.

Amanda and her mom cleaned the house at the Tall-Trees estate yesterday, in preparation for G-mom coming home in a few days. Today, after all was said and done, Amanda and I went for a nice long walk around Fairfield, got ice cream at Belanger's Dairy Bar, and made our way back to Military Ave. On the way, we noticed a family all sitting around a fire pit--mother, father, three kids. We are dead set on getting one soon; there truly is nothing like sitting around a fire, whether inside by the stove, or outside by the pit, to procure good, healthy "talk." The conversations fires seem to inspire are priceless--there's just something about sitting around something burning that is absolutely mesmerizing; maybe its the smell, maybe its the sound of the crackling knots, maybe its the different kind of warmth that doesnt seem too hot, even in the already spring or summer heat. But its truly magical. I think we are fire people. Some of the best moments Amanda and I have had at our house have involved, in some capacity, wood, wood splitting, woody from Toy Story, wood burning, and wood stacking. We feel blessed to have our wood stove and the ability to provide our own heat. Maybe some day some out of staters will come up in Fairfield and sit around our fire pit with us, and have some good old fashioned talkin'

Big week coming up with an "addition" of sorts being put on the house. More to come about that later . . .J & A