Going home

So it has been almost a month since Mr. Vasey, Flaire, Steamers and I returned from our very quick trip back to "The Good Life" ... back to Nebraska.

There are some things that I really miss about my hometown, and about Nebraska in general.

First and foremost there is Runza....

Oh how I love me some Runza

There really is nothing like a Swiss Mushroom Runza with Runza fries and everything dipped in a little tub o' Runza Ranch. Runza seriously has the best freaking Ranch in the entire world. It's a little bit like heaven on earth, I'm sure, actually no I'm positive it's heaven on earth. My mouth is watering just thinking about it....oh Runza how I miss thee.

If you have never had a Runza sandwich, then you need to go to Nebraska and have one. It truly is something that everyone should experience. I won't even go into details about how wonderful a Runza sandwich is becuase honestly I don't think you can handle it. Lets just say that it really should be considered one of the great wonders of the world. Those triangles out in the desert have got nothing on a Swiss Mushroom Runza...nothing.

The second thing about my home town that I especially enjoy is the purple house. It's somewhat of a landmark there.

"Where do you live?" one might say..."Oh just turn left at the purple house...."

Or someone lost, needing directions, "How do you get to the high school?" and once again..."Just turn at the purple house and it's a block down on the left."

We don't know street names, just landmarks...and the purple house is one of the best landmarks in town.

She is a majestic beast...a little weathered with time. But there is nothing cooler than having a purple house in your hometown. Especially a purple house with turquois trim, a psychadelic privacy fence and 2 Dish Network satellites in the front yard....

This is the street I grew up on, the same street that I was declared the street tennis champion, even though I've never really played real tennis. The street I ran across every day, without looking both ways, to get to my best friends house. The street I skinned my knee on learning to ride a bike. I ruled this street...


Ya I know, its really not much of a street.

I also took Mr. Vasey down to the crick. (It's crick not creek in these here parts) There was something I really wanted him to see.

This is the same crick that a few of us would tube down in the summers. When the water was high enough, all these rocks created "rapids" and gave us our thrill. This kind of tubing is not tubing for wussies. Many a teenager, myself included, usually came away with a few abrasions due to slipping off said tube, falling on said rocks and getting pushed downstream. But none of us died, none of us needed rescued...all in good fun. No one got their eyes poked out either.


So I made Mr. Vasey take a little walk with me, while I told him a story about the mystery of the Medicine Creek...

The old folks say that a terrible thing happened here about 70 odd years ago... a bunch of teenagers were down here at the crick 'parking' (if ya know what I mean) when the great earthquake of 1950 happened, I believe it was a 9.0 on the ol Richter Scale, and the earth just crumbled beneath them all and launched them straight into the water... They all perished, under her mighty current, they were helpless. The townspeople left the cars in the exact spot where they fell in. They were too devasted, losing so many young people, and also in rememberance of what happened that terrible night. They also used the wreckage as a lesson to the younger generation, to keep their hands to themselves....


No one is sure how many lost their lives that fateful evening. Some say 50 others say 100.


But legend has it, if you go down to the Medicine late at night you can hear their screams and water splashing as they gulp for air and fight for their lives...


Just kiddin', that's not really what happened...but the truth isn't nearly as exciting. Apparently these cars are there simply to stop or slow down erosion. To make sure the banks of the Medicine Creek don't wear away too much and take over the golf course, which is on the other side. See wasn't my story way better?

After our exhausting hike through the wilderness on the banks of the Medicine Creek, I thought I'd capture the tranquility of our downtown. On a Saturday afternoon, most businesses are closed, which allowed me to have my pick of parking spaces.

I really wish I could've seen Stan the One Man Band....





The main reason for the trip though wasn't to go sightseeing. It was really to celebrate the union of a very special pair. The patriarchs of our family. The people who raised seven children out on a farm south of town, the grandparents to over 20, and great-grandparents to gosh...I really don't know...but it's a lot, more than 20. But they've been together for over 60 years, and still share the love they had as newlyweds back in 1949.


So with our bellies full of my Uncle Roger's prime rib and cheesy potatoes, and a red mustache from drinking too much red drink (Kool-Aid to those of you not as saavy as Mr. Vasey and I) we said good-bye to Nebraski. It was a good trip and of course we'll be back.

Although one other thing worth mentioning is this.

If you ever find yourself driving along Interstate 70 in Kansas, make sure you look to the north.

There are simply hundreds and miles of windmills, and we decided that they change direction with the wind as well, becuase we swore they were facing the other way on the way up to Nebraska.

And they are huge, I kinda wanted to get out and go stand by one but they were pretty far off the highway, and probably a lot further away than one realizes. Plus Mr. Vasey said "no". But they gave us enough tailwind to push us along, back home to Texas.


So there you have it, all the sights and sounds from the heartland. From Nebraska "The Good Life"

I'm not a hick...I'm correct

So I'm back from my big, bad, fly-by-the-night trip to the heartland, to "The Good Life", that's right....Nebraska. (I'll have more on my trip later.)

I was talking to Spanks McDuders last night on the phone, we stayed at her casa in the sprawling metroplex of McCook. (pop. 7,994) She wasn't there for the weekend, she decided to take off to California to visit another friend of ours, so we had the run of the place. On the phone last night she asked me. "Um, so I come home, and my dictionary is out, left open to the 'L's' what's that all about?"

It took me a minute to remember, you see after spending the day with the family on Saturday, Mr. Vasey and I retired to the hacienda de Spanky with an 18 pack of Coors Light. I distinctly remember getting the dictionary out but I couldn't remember what we were looking up...

"The only L word that came to my head, that the two of you would be looking up was lesbian, but it was open to the 'lu' page."

Hmmmm still thinking....no we weren't looking up lesbian, pretty sure we both know what the meaning of that is..."Oh yes!" I told her. It all started coming back to me, "we got into a discussion about accents and how, I don't have an accent becuase I'm from the midwest," and he, Mr. Vasey that is, said that even though I'm from the midwest there are things that I say that are distinctly midwestern. Like how I put the word "right" in strange places in sentences, or I say "pop," and not soda or what the people round here call Coke, even if they want a Pepsi they say Coke (now tell me how intelligent that is?) and how I refer to lunch as lunch, supper as supper and dinner can be either or.

Mr. Vasey was brought up that dinner is always the evening meal. And brought up to believe that is correct way to refer to the evening meal. Referring to it as 'supper' is just country in his opinion.

It actually brings me back to a time when his mother called to ask me over for Christmas Dinner one time....the conversation went something like this.

"So I was wondering if you would like to join us for Christmas dinner?"

"Sure," I say. "Would that be dinner-lunch or dinner-supper?"

She, clearly confused by my question, responds. "Well, dinner-dinner."

Me, clearly confused by her response, had to ask again, "So...like dinner at night or like dinner at noon-time?"

"Well...dinner..." she says.

Finally we get it figured out, she meant dinner, the evening meal....

Well I have always been brought up that dinner was the big meal, or a fancy meal. Lunch is just lunch, you have a samich or maybe a burger or something, but if you have a roast for the noon meal, where the whole family sits down and eats, that's a dinner.

For instance, after mass on Sunday we would have a Sunday dinner, a roast or some other hearty meal, and for supper on those days we would have popcorn and milk...num num...

But there would be occasions where the big, sit down meal would be the evening meal, so instead of it just being a supper of goulash or spaghetti, we would have pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy or something, that again is a dinner.

Just to be clear breakfast is always breakfast as the morning meal, that is unless its brunch.

So that's the way I've always referred to dinner, the big meal, the sit down meal. And Mr. Vasey thought I was wrong. So we looked it up in the dictionary. And just so that everyone else can be clear. Here are the definitions we found.

Lunch: a light midday meal between breakfast and dinner; luncheon.

Supper: the evening meal, often the principal meal of the day.

Dinner: the main meal of the day, eaten in the evening or at midday.

So there. Never doubt a midwesterner when it comes to issues of speech...

Take that "ya'll" I'm fixin ta open a can o woop ass up in herra.