Okay -- I have a semi-serious post rolling around in my head, but first I need to get this one out of there so there's more room for reflection. Bear with me -- this one's gonna be kinda long, but it's mostly for me so I won't forget all this stuff. Some is kinda irreverent, but it actually happened, so documentation is appropriate. Some is just fun memories.
This is Grandson#1, all decked out in his new Razorback gear on Christmas Eve at The Son's house. Heh.
This is
Trevor, The Son's lucky puppy, not in motion. This needed to be documented because it's a rare occasion when Trevor, the lucky puppy, is not in motion.
This is a group of good friends and family at She-Who-Should've-Been-My-Sister's Little Rock home on New Year's Eve after we devoured all the food brought to the potluck. SWSBMS's other home is in Hong Kong, so it's wonderful when we can all get together on the same continent in the same hemisphere. You'll note the conspicuous absence of SIL#1. He and his college buddies had met in Ft. Worth to watch TCU's first BCS Bowl appearance together, without wives and significant others. Thus, Elder Daughter and SIL#1 spent their first New Year's Eve as a married couple in different states. Elder Daughter, being Moogie's progeny, devised a way for SIL#1 to make it up to her, however; she persuaded him to secure 4 tickets to the Sugar Bowl from her FIL and went without him, taking
her college friends, now living in Upstate New York, and Younger Daughter instead. And they were Club Level seats to boot! Clever Elder Daughter.
Here is what midnight in New York looked like on New Year's Eve at SWSBMS's house, and Pepper. You can tell it's
really Pepper because there's a Blackberry in his hand. Unlike at most of our recent New Year's Eve celebrations, we actually stayed out past midnight in New York, and beyond when it became midnight in Little Rock.
This is what New Year's Night looked like: a 1-1-11 wedding in the Chapel at Camp Robinson in North Little Rock. The Son was best man (he's the squared-away, handsome one with raised saber). I managed to catch the precise moment when the other groomsman lowered his saber to swat the Bride on the rear end and shout, "Welcome to the Army!" The newly-married couple would leave central Arkansas on January 3rd to honeymoon at Moogie's Mansion where the Bride was lucky enough to share one bathroom with her new husband and 4 of his best friends. The Bride was a very good sport.
Here we are at the Super Dome, getting ready to head inside to watch the Hogs trounce the Buckeyes. There were plenty of raucous Razorback fans to add to our Sugary spirit. And there was apparently at least one young lady (at the far right) who looks like she has not been adequately schooled in just what, exactly, a Hog Hat is.
Here are tens of thousands of Hog-callers and the Razorbacks thundering onto the field before trouncing the Buckeyes.
In cased you missed it, The Hogs failed to trounce the Buckeyes. And that's enough about that.
Before the Big Game, several happy events, and one rather bizarre event, took place at Moogie's Mansion. We celebrated the 30th birthday of Elder Daughter's college chum with mimosas, brunch and cake. Cake, both birthday and wedding.
The wedding cake, and tons of other leftover wedding reception fare, was courtesy of the honeymooners, who got the very best guest room and pink roses.
After the Razorback fans departed to return to a soon-to-be-frozen-over Arkansas and other destinations, and after Moogie quickly changed a few beds and cleaned a few bathrooms, two Mardi Gras revelers arrived to join us at the CAMAN Ball -- our first big celebration of Carnival season. Reveler#1's daughter was ever-so-slightly embarrassed by #1's gleeful immersion in the Carnival spirit. Can you tell? R#1's daughter was also less than pleased when Moogie manipulated several eligible young men to dance with said daughter, but she's young and will get over it.
The Ball's theme was "CAMAN Under the Big Top," and the decor was quite festive.
King CAMAN XXXVII enjoyed his entrance and hammed it up for his subjects, also showering them with doubloons of the realm. Queen CAMAN XXXVII was regal, radiant, and very, very happy.
Following the Ball, the Revelers were snowed out of Arkansas, so their departure was delayed by three days. We took that opportunity to turn their extended visit into "The Early Winter Eating Tour of New Orleans." This was one lunch, at
Pascal's Manale, on Tuesday the 11th -- Mushroom Ravioli with Crab Alfredo Sauce and Crabcake. Oh my freakin' goodness!
The Revelers got the "all-clear" to return home on the 12th, and it's been kinda quiet around here since then.
Oh yeah. I
mentioned something a few days back about ambulances and other emergency vehicles.
While we were brunching before the Big Game, Honeymoon Man meandered into the dining room from the front porch and said, "There's a Viking in a track suit leaning against your fence." I peeked out the window, and, sure enough, there was a Viking-ish looking guy (or a lost member of ZZ Top) leaning against the fence. I asked Honeymoon Man whether the Viking needed to talk to me, and he replied, "I don't think so." I gave it little more thought, this being New Orleans and all.
Twenty minutes later, Honeymoon Man, having been upstairs and having looked out the window, came back down and announced, "The Viking's down." I thought it prudent to go check on him; one male Hog Fan accompanied me as my protector, fearing that the wrath of a prematurely-roused Viking might befall me. He took his camera.
Meet the Viking in a Track Suit.
I called to him in a loud mother-ish voice, "Sir? Are you all right? SIR?!?!," while also noting his rather battered and swollen face. Then I hot-footed it inside to call 911.
Here are a few of the emergency responders. When they finally got the Viking onto a back board and roused him a bit, they asked him the typical questions -- what's your name, do you know where you are. To the name question, he responded with a strong display of the one-finger salute from beneath the back board straps. To the location question, he replied, "Pennsylvania." We're still not sure what happened to him, or who he is, but if he planned on being in Pennsylvania, he definitely took a wrong turn somewhere.
Here are the Honeymooners with emergency responders in the background. They kept the discarded instructions on "how to apply a neck brace" as a souvenir.
After the excitement quieted down, one police officer noticed all the people wearing Razorback tee shirts and told us he really liked the Razorbacks and wanted us to win the Sugar Bowl. Then he said he really liked "that cheer," too. Then he asked us to teach him how to do it. So, with the Viking strapped to the backboard and being rolled to the ambulance, we all called the Hogs along with New Orleans first responders on the sidewalk. The cop "woop-wooped" his siren at us and waved as he drove off.
Several of the Hog Fans were smokers. They did not empty the ash tray provided for them on the front porch. And you know who you are!
It was a hectic, sleepless, delightful week. And there's lagniappe! One pair of Fans brought a bottle of wine, another a lovely piece of Who Dat art, and the group of guys brought this delight for the nose and the palate -- 21 year-old single malt! Ahhhh. I didn't realize that Pepper had partaken as much of it as he has until I took this pic today; I've enjoyed one tiny snifter, preferring instead to keep it forever and savor it by occasionally removing the cork and deep-breathing the aroma.
So. Such is life at Moogie's Mansion. And Carnival season has just begun.
I'll sign off with this pic snapped before Christmas, en route to Little Rock, in heavy traffic. It just reminded me of all my wonderful Blog Buddies, and a few in particular. See if you can read the name and home base of of the trucking company.
Heh.
