Stumpy

Twelve seconds ago, just as it occurred to me that tales of Stumpy, my dog, might make for some haha reading, I turned to see his wee little doggie tail following his wee little doggie butt right into the bathroom, a place he really has no business going. This was a) hilarious to me, knowing beyond doubt that he had nothing but waggish intentions going in there, b) also hilarious in his attempt to be sly about it, and c) fortuitously coincidental in that it galvanized my belief that if nothing else, I'll get a good laugh writing about him. Dogs trying to be covert are simply hilarious.

Stumpy, Stump, Stumps, Stumpasaurous Rex, El Stumperino if you're not into the whole brevity thing.

The Noble Creature

Holmes likes to give kisses. Right after he plays with dead stuff.

We just got back from Auditorium Shores, and I'll tell you what; homeboy ran that ish. I'm pretty sure he's the only dog in town who now has an odorous memory of every single dog that was down there, a history of each of those dog's dealings with other dogs throughout the day, and a detailed cross reference of how each dog there was connected to the others and, in fact, all the dogs in the ATX. He's nothing short of a supercomputer on four legs, a cosmic conduit of highly intelligent energy, a beacon, nay, an oracle of healing holy power.

"I, Stumpy, have found the lost city of Atlantis. Or an empty bottle."

But sometimes he's just a downright dum-dum of a dog.

Mmm, couch flavor.

This is one of the cushions on my couch. You're looking at the underside, because after Stumpy did this, I flipped it and swapped it with the other side's. Then Stumpy did this same thing to the other cushion. Because, hey, why not? Granted, he was pissed because he had been left alone for four days (don't worry, someone was feeding him), but the second cushion, after I had been home for almost a week, well... that was just mean. I mean, this little punk took to my couch like he was trying to stuff a hypothermic Luke Skywalker into it.

I... I thought they smelled bad on the outside...

Anyway, it usually just takes one look like the one above to make us forgive him for any number of puppy indulgences he might take (chewing up the Hopi rug, chewing up the chairs on The Porch, chewing up everyone's sandals...). I think we're gonna go ahead and keep him. It has been over a year now, so I think we made that decision a while ago. In fact, I think we made that decision the moment my lovely wife saw his wee infant baby puppy photo on the Austin Pets Alive website.

Well, that's all I gots tonight. Now go git yoself a puppy.

Robert Johnson, "Star Wars" of the Blues

So, the other night I'm on The Porch with my good buddies Nick and Shaun, and of course, we're talking about music.

Shocking, I know.

Nick: "Get your arm off me, you sleaze."
Shaun: "Hahahaha! Oh, you!"
Nick: "No, seriously, I'm going to go berserk any second now."

So it doesn't take us long to get talking about the Blues and naming our fave artists. Mine come down to Muddy Waters (Mr. Number One in my book)...

From His Viagra Period

John Lee Hooker...

Please, Mr. Hooker, Don't Come Back For My Soul. I Always Been A Friend To You.

And Lightnin' Hopkins...

Dear Baby God, Please Make Cigarettes Safe Again. I Wanna Be This Bad.

Now, before you get all crazy and up in arms about who should or should not be on this list, take a breather. My list of Bluesmen and women whom I adore is quite extensive. But for the sake of brevity, I have pared it down to just a few essentials who are near and dear to me. But this leads us to the topic at hand. After I had announced these three as a Holy Trinity of sorts, Nick (quite tactfully, mind you) pointed out that I had left out the King of the Delta Blues, Mr. Crossroads himself, Robert Johnson...

I Can't Imagine What Made People Think He'd Had Dealings With Satan...

To which I had to tell Nick, "Robert Johnson is the Star Wars of the Blues."

Let me 'splain. No, let me sum up. If I am ever asked what my favorite movie is, I will quickly and with conviction tell you that is Amadeus. If you want to break it down into categories, I'd have to go with Three Amigos for comedy (weeelll... Maybe The Jerk. Or Safemen. Why is this so hard?!?), The Endless Summer for documentary, and so on and so forth.

You haven't seen this yet? OH MY GOD quit reading this pointless blog and go watch this RIGHT NOW!!!

But I will always make sure you know that there is another category that supersedes all of the above, that does not even need to be named as a variable in the equation of what equals my favorite movie. I like to call this particular genre of film "Star Wars." Now, when I say "Star Wars" as a genre, I'm simply referring to Star Wars and Empire Strikes Back. With a few scenes from Jedi thrown in. 

So this is how I feel about Robert Johnson. He doesn't even need to be named when the question of Blues greatness comes up. He's like some otherworldly, spiritual, conceptual entity.

I feel the same way about The Godfather and The Godfather II, but you can't just slap "The Godfather of..." onto just anything. Robert Johnson is much more than a godfather. He's like some ancient alien astronaut come here to show us how to build pyramids and giant stone astronomy sites and shizzz.

Robert Johnson, Ancient Alien Astronaut.

AAA

Oh Montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies

So go the words of the great psalmist John Denver.

I just spent four days in Bozeman, Montana, and I must say, it wasn't enough. Apart from the fact that it was too short of a visit with my wife and daughter, who are on a two-week buying trip, I am also reeling from the aborted immersion into miles and miles of rolling hills of undulating grass, technicolor flowers everywhere I looked, snowy mountains on all sides, and temperatures in the low 80s. The almost-daily afternoon cloudbursts, stunning sunsets, and great food didn't hurt, either, and needless to say, my return home to Austin was certainly rife with mixed emotions.

However, I am choosing this day to serve the emotions of gratefulness for the home I have and offer up my thanks to the cosmos for the following AAAs (Amazing Austin Aspects):

The Porch

Our Own Little Bayou Slice of Tejas

I love our porch. The Porch. At least to us, it is. The great thing about a great porch is that anyone can make any porch great. These are abundant here. Ours has plenty of room, chimineas, cheesy paper lanterns and Christmas lights, quirky knick-knacks, a couch, a hammock, and even a record player. Let's not forget the washer and dryer... they make the whole porch vibrate when they're goin. We've got a whole waiting list of people who want to come do laundry here.

Even The End of The Porch is Awesome

Sure, if we were living in another city, in another state, or even country, we could have a great porch there. But this one happens to be here, now, and it is regularly populated by what really makes The Porch amazing:

Our Peeps

Yeah, we have found some good ones here. All creative, all talented, all loving. Our peeps.

Hoping This Will Entice Some To Return...

The Baddest of the Baddest

SoCo Sisters

E Baby!

Mama T

Rocker Dads Unite. And Get Drunk.

No, Seriously, We Put the "Chill" in Achilles

We Might Have Eaten Too Much

Pretty Sure We'd Be Lost Without This One

Alright, So We Met In L.A. Close Enough!

Whataburger RULES

Alright, alright, we're not really friends with the Brad. Just seein' if you're paying attention.

Now, what would we do with all these friends if it weren't for the next AAA?

The Bands

It's done to death, of course, to talk about bands and live music when talking about Austin. But whatevs, isn't that why this city is still here? The wonderful thing about the hype is that it's not just hype. There really are some kick-ass bands in this town. Here's a short list:

To Get Your Ya-Ya's Out in the booziest, struttinest way possible: The Happen-ins

To Get Your Garage Rockiness On: Shapes Have Fangs

To Get Your Long Hair On and Your Eardrums Gone: Scorpion Child

To Get Your Soul All Buttered: T-Bird and the Breaks

I told you it was a short list, and yes, those are all my buddies. But hey, PROMOTE YOUR FRIENDS' WORK. Just sayin'. Trust me, there are a ton of other great bands to see here.

Homeslice

If you've ever been to Austin, you don't need me to tell you. Sure, there are lots of killer slices like this all over the world, but Homeslice is the only one that scents the air of my 'hood and is often brought straight over by these two members of Olympus:

If Only She'd Lighten Up!

The Arlo Bishop Experience

My kid eats at Homeslice. She was also #1 Student in her class. You do the math.

Hey, If Avery Likes It, You Know It's Good! Uncle Dan Seems To Be a Fan, Too.

KUT

I love KUT. It's pretty much always on in my car. Sure, it's not perfect, but there is usually something interesting coming through the airwaves. The news gets me to work, John Aielli captivates me all morning with his space-cadet thought processes and eardrum-massaging voice (haters to the left), and the healthy dose of NPR sprinkled throughout the day is always massively informative. We even get to hear our friends on there daily, either playing music or talking about it! 

No Really, We Love It!

The Girls

Truly, the best thing about the ATX is the GIRLS. Specifically, these two:

She Rings Like a Bell Through The Night, And Wouldn't You Love To Love Her?

She's Like A Rainbow

Okay, so that's just a short list. Clearly, I like short lists.