Chia Obama = Blooming Patriotism

I hate to spoil it for all you folks on my Christmas list, but I can’t wait to share what I’m getting everyone for Christmas. I have considered in the past making a pact with myself to purchase every single Christmas gift at convenience stores. I’m not doing that this year, maybe next year (I can see you squirming with excitement already).

However, I have found the perfect gift for every single person on my list. From plant lovers to patriots, I’ve got you covered.

It’s the Obama Chia Pet from the Proud to be American Chia series.

Or maybe you’d rather have the Statue of Liberty Chia with the “ever-glowing flame.”

Feeling a bit more revolutionary, there’s the George Washington Chia.

There’s also an Abraham Lincoln Chia edition, but I can’t understand why they didn’t manufacture it where Lincoln’s beard will also grow green plants. Only his hair grows. Shouldn’t Abe be wearing a stovepipe hat to cover his hair, leaving his chin as the best spot for luxurious growing greenery?

Happy Thanksgiving

Have a ball on Turkey Day.

While I won’t be heading to the Turkey Testicle Festival, I will be traveling to dine with friends in Memphis and I’m so looking forward to sharing the community meal.

And for the musically inclined, here’s a link to a ton of food tunes you can stream while eating your turkey repast.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Superhero

Halloween offers adults a chance to pretend they’re something or someone they’re not. Unless you’re in a local theater group or participate in live-action role-playing games or make $$$$ as a magician or work at Disney World, you’re not likely to don a costume on the average day.

Halloween is that one night a year you’re allowed to be Superman or Wonder Woman.

Little kids don’t know how great they have it. They can be a superhero just about any day. Drape a bath towel over their shoulders and suddenly they have the ability to fly. Put on a glove and they can shoot webs from the palms of their hands. Don a cowboy hat and they’re Woody. The trappings don’t have to be fancy. The imagination takes care of the rest. Sidekicks can be invisible or stuffed. Any day, every day.

And they save the world every time.

For those of you recalling those days with rough terry cloth held neath your chin by your sibling’s diaper pin, this site is for you.

Growing up Heroes shows us all those pics – old and new – of youth in all its super glory.

Baseball Beats Fireworks

I wrote a column for my non-digital gig about how much I really don’t enjoy fireworks like 85 percent of the rest of the good ol’ US of A.

Chicks Queens dig the longball, not the exploding fireball.

Here ya go.

“Fireworks on the Fourth eventually all fizzle out”

I’ll admit from the start that I’m not one of those black powder geeks who spend half of their gross income buying Black Cat firecrackers, bottle rockets in bulk and colorful bombs purchased under a striped tent along the roadside in the hot and humid weeks leading up to the Fourth of July.
Fireworks are just too short-lived for me to enjoy. I like my excitement in a more long-term format. The quick KABOOM and sudden splash of color across the night sky is undeniably both attention-grabbing and beautiful, but I still usually find my mind wandering before the acrid smell of the accompanying black smoke wafts into sniffing range.
Maybe that’s why I’m a baseball fan. The long 162-game season sets a pace a languid turtle could love. No clock limits the time it takes to settle the final outcome and record those 27 outs in a winning effort. Even at the midseason all-star break, the team at the bottom of the standings still has a chance to scratch and claw back into title contention.
Some fans complain the length of the game has stretched out to an interminable span, but I appreciate the longer games. It just gives me more of a chance to explore the sights, sounds and smells of the ballpark like a bloodhound on the trail of an escaped serial killer.
For me, people-watching during the game is probably more eye-catching and interesting than any fireworks display shooting streaks of flame and color across the evening’s ebony sky. Whether it’s the super stat guy who keeps score — noting every pitch, base hit and error — or the Little Leaguer staring at his idol’s every move on the diamond, swinging a tiny bat and mimicking the stance of his favorite player, I appreciate all the fans in the stands.
I also prefer my fireworks on the field. Be it a well-turned double play with the second baseman leaping and pirouetting to make the throw to first while avoiding the sliding runner or a pitcher dropping a curve ball off the table as the batter’s knees buckle, baseball is a beautiful thing.
And hey, they actually have fireworks at a lot of baseball games. None to me are more spectacular than the ones ignited immediately after a home run blasted over the fence by a player from my favorite team.
Now, don’t let me  your ruin your fondness for fireworks, whether they are the hand-held sparklers, the rat-a-tat-tat basic firecracker or the bombastic big blasts. Set them off, light up the sky and enjoy this Independence Day weekend.

Happy Fourth of July

The land of the free and the home of the brave is having another birthday.

I won’t be lighting a Roman candle, but I will be eating some grilled goodness to celebrate.

Here’s a link to a reading of the Declaration of Independence by the folks at NPR to remind us what today is all about.

Feel Good Good Friday – Good Golly Miss Molly

It’s Good Friday, so I thought I’d post a song with GOOD in the title for Feel Good Friday.

How about Little Richard performing “Good Golly Miss Molly” with a little “Lucille” thrown in for “good” measure.

It’s a performance from France in 1966.

Oscars and The Legend of Boggy Creek

It was an official holiday at my house. The Oscars hit the air waves, and I settled in on my couch to soak it all in.

I spent tonight watching the 82nd Oscars, but it felt more like 82 years of my life passed during the long production.

“The Hurt Locker” eventually hauled in the big awards, winning over “Avatar” and “Precious.” History was made with Kathryn Bigelow earning the Best Director statuette, the first woman to do so, for helming “The Hurt Locker.”

The 2010 version of Hollywood’s big night was a bit anticlimactic. The energy in the theater seemed low with little reaction and or interaction to what was happening on stage. Even the customary polite applause for most of the faces that pop up on the screen during the Memorial Montage was lacking.

And, by the way, why wasn’t Farrah Fawcett included in that? Of course, she is better known for her work in television than on the silver screen, but what about “Logan’s Run,” “Cannonball Run” and some other movies that didn’t have Run in their name.

The dance montages still wear me out. I haven’t wanted to watch people do the robot on stage since that tragic encounter I had with Shields and Yarnell back in the day. Don’t ask. I’ve signed legal documents that keep me from talking about it.

The duo of Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin as hosts wasn’t quite so dynamic if you ask me. I think they should bring back Neil Patrick Harris and his Liberace jacket to host next year.

Even the dresses didn’t WOW me nor even induce too many cringes.

I did enjoy the John Hughes tribute with the actors and actresses he made into stars speaking about working with him. The clips brought back so many memories for me – memories of both his movies and my life that paralleled several of his story arcs at that time.

Then when the Oscars finally ended in a flurry of awards handed out in a matter of 10 seconds, I started surfing the web and ran across a headline involving a movie legend not affiliated with the awards show.

It read, ‘Boggy Creek filmmaker Pierce dies in Tenn. at 71‘.

Come to find out director Charles B. Pierce, who brought “The Legend of Boggy Creek” to the silver screen and drive-ins everywhere passed away in a nursing home in Dover, Tennesssee,  just 50 miles from my home.

If he’s not included in the Memorial Montage next year, I’m throwing a hissy fit and sicking Sasquatch on the Oscars.

Fat Tuesday

It’s been too long since I’ve been down in the Big Easy.

I think the recent Super Bowl win by the Saints has amped up my desire to make a return to NOLA.

I’m missing New Orleans. Days like today, Fat Tuesday, make me crave it even more … the food, the music, the beads, the beverages.

Speaking of beverages, I’m not Catholic, but I am giving up something for Lent this year. I’m swearing off sodas. Bye Bye Mountain Dew. See ya later Dr. Pepper. It’s been sweet, but I’m going to eliminate you.

I did this a few years ago and erased Diet Coke from my list of liquids of which I partake. As a matter of fact, it’s now been four years since I swilled a Diet Coke.

Hurricane Katrina has paid a horrible visit to New Orleans since I have. She ravaged it. I hope to make a much more gentle landing in the Crescent City.

I’d love to  feel the heavy air and smell the amazing aromas that waft out of doors and windows of restaurants of both the five-star and the tiny five-table variety.

The music pulses through the humidity moving your feet along the cobblestones and sidewalks, pulling you toward the rhythm. Brass boldly squawking at you. The felt-covered hammers inside the piano striking and making the strings vibrate to match the pumping of the blood through your veins. An accordion wheezing and breathing, yelling more than whispering, urging you to come inside. The city and its music speaks to you.

To put you even more in the spirit of New Orleans, Newscoma called upon Buckwheat Zydeco this morning.

I present to you Dr. John performing “Iko Iko.”

Giant Bleeding Heart Gummy Candy

Valentine’s Day is rapidly approaching.

I know all of you out there are wondering what to get your loved one … flowers, chocolates, a massage.

How about a bleeding candy heart?

Come on. Nothing says “love” like an ooey gooey sticky sweet treat that gushes blood with every bite. Nom nom nom.

Of course, this gift might not be the best for those “faint of heart”, but who wants to hang out with them.

via ThinkGeek

Super Bowl Sunday

It’s Super Bowl Sunday.

Hip hip hurray! It’s a holiday in the Squirrel Queen household.

A day for the best finger foods and snacks of all time. A day for football. A day for creative advertising. A day for comradery. A day for beer!

Unlike many seasons, I’m not rooting against a team, but I will be pulling for one this year.

Peyton and the Colts already have one Super Bowl ring and a Lombardi trophy. Let Drew Brees and the rest of New Orleans celebrate tonight. It would be great to be down on Bourbon Street this evening.

Like the song says, “this aint your daddy’s Saints.”

No matter which team wins today, I’ll be OK with it.