Yesterday was my sixty-fifth birthday and I made a huge pot of chili. That doesn't sound extraordinary unless you've eaten my chili, then you understand. It takes about two days to make my chili and a third to meld the flavors and that requires a lot of room in the refrigerator because my chili requires a really big pot. My chili is magical and it makes wonderful things happen, farts do not even cause discomfort, they just excuse themselves, even in sleep without the possibility of becoming sharts (what should have been a fart but liquid). We gathered around the fire and ate copious amounts of chili and cornbread and some delicious home-made carrot cake and played music all evening with Jim Wainwright, Kim Jones, Hollis Sewell, and Robin Smith and several friends, knowing my fondness of good bourbon, brought bottles of Jack Daniels and Gentleman Jack. That would make it difficult to find anything that pleases a now official "Old Fart" any more than that, but they did it and I have been completely surprised, without a clue, totally surprised. For the past couple of weeks, Mayor Rodney, Cedar Creek, and I have planned to get a hotwater heater box and use it to trap Chuck, otherwise known as Bruce, his given name. I was to distract him by getting him to stare at nothing between my finger-tips held closer than his point of focus while Rodney and Chris snagged him in the box and toppled him over, taped the bottom, then we would sit him on the tailgate of a truck and make him hang around all evening listening to us play music instead of drinking too much beer and disappearing before we decided he should leave. Rodney had brilliantly wrapped the hotwater heater box as a birthday present for me and sat it center stage, this might actually work! I figured Chuck might get a little pissed but he never remembers anything the next day anyway. At this point, I should digress and change the topic, so you can glean a little better understanding. The Municipality of Cedar Creek is a small but tightly knit community filled with armed rednecks that shoot pigs and deer, cowboys, Aunt Patty's, a retired federal marshal, Chucks, otherwise know as Bruce, and the official Alabama football beer drinking team. I don't drink beer or watch football so I am honored to become part of this community by proximity and the fact that I can cook really good chili and don't mind helping stuff Chuck into a cardboard box. I mentioned Kim Jones was here. She owns the local music store where I am a customer and sometimes guitar technician. Several weeks ago, Kim got a guitar in on consignment sale for a mutual friend, an Alverez electric/acoustic that obviously had been set up by a talented professional for a professional musician. It played so beautifully that Robin tried to hide it from me, knowing it would be irresistible to my unfortunate inability to refrain from purchasing things that I like, even if I can't afford them. I won't mention Evans Davis from the Leavin' Brothers was selling the guitar that his friend and world renowned Luthier, Roger Fritz had set up for playing, mostly because of the cheesy nylon guitar strap that was reminiscent for Jamaican National Flag, I figured with a strap that ugly, he might want it back. I really liked that guitar so for a few week, whenever I would wander into Bay Music, I would find it in the tiny guitar room and sit and play it for a while, diligently resisting the urge to purchase it and feeling proud of my restraint and responsible adult decision. I did talk about it a lot though. I couldn't imagine selling such a fine playing instrument unless you had found something really extraordinary and needed the money to aid the purchase. Maybe it was cursed, that would explain the brightly colored guitar strap. After an evening of drinking too much and not feeling so responsible, I made a low-ball offer on the guitar and offered to let them keep the strap but mostly I talked about the guitar a lot, hoping someone that really wanted a fine instrument would buy it and remove it from my temptation. I finally decided that I would sell one of my other guitars and buy this one, that equates to selling a child, you know. You just pick the one that causes the most problems and sell the one that gets good grades and never gets into trouble. So I went to Kim's store to tell her I would take the Alverez but it was gone and I must admit a bit of both disappointment and relief that I didn't have to choose to loose one of my other babies. I fondly recalled the Alverez to my closest associates and friends, telling the tale and including the admonition that I was relieved someone had gotten a really great instrument at a bargain and that I would have bought that guitar the first time I played it if I had had any money to spend on another guitar. I'd probably have bought it anyway, if the Election Infection hadn't destroyed our gig schedules and we just aren't performing very much anywhere. So the bottom line was that I was relieved the decision was removed from my guilt spectrum. So back to the celebration of my Old Fart birthday party. People are eating chili and cornbread and having libations. It was colder than a witch's tit but the fire pit was stoked with pecan logs from Hurricane Sally. Everyone kept asking we begin to play music but there were still guests to greet, many bearing hugs, well wishes, birthday cards, and bottles of Jack Daniels. I was ready to begin playing but everyone insisted that I open the big box, so I cut into the top with my knife and I was dumbstruck. The Mayor had gone and bought that guitar and everyone was in on it, even Chuck. I could believe it, that was one of the nicest things I have ever experienced. I have been so distraught at the looming possibility of civil unrest, social distancing, and impending disaster, that I had forgotten what is most important in life, to share. Thank you so very much, all my dear friends. That was the second best gift I have ever received, the first being a reminder of being loved. I hope you enjoy the farts too.
Rudyard Kipling Cold Iron Gold is for the mistress -- silver for the maid -- Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade." "Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall, "But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of them all." So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege, Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege. "Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall, "But Iron -- Cold Iron -- shall be master of you all!" Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong, When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along; He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall, And Iron -- Cold Iron -- was master of it all! Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!) "What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?" "Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall, For Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all." "Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown -- Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown." "As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small, For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!" Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!) "Here is Bread and here is Wine -- sit and sup with me. Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall How Iron -- Cold Iron -- can be master of men all!" He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread. With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said: "See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall, Show Iron -- Cold Iron -- to be master of men all." "Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong. Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong. I forgive thy treason -- I redeem thy fall -- For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!" "Crowns are for the valiant -- sceptres for the bold! Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!" "Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall, "But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all! Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"
Congrats, and Happy Birthday. Wish I could have been there, because it sounds like it was the party of parties! Besides, there was chili and that alone would make it interesting...
Happy Birthday! We have made your chili and it's delicious. It's my go to chili recipe, has a depth of flavor that most others are lacking.
Happy Birthday! I may have to try your chili recipe - they want me to buy carbon credits every time I make mine and Mrs 3M visits her mom for a week.
That was funny !! HB Sir ,, Care to PM that chili recipe,, Need a week off , too many honey do's Sloth
