Alfie and I were at the dog park the other week when there was a 60 degree day and bright sun. I decided to let him go and run while I would work on my school portfolio at one of the tables in the park. When we got to the park there happened to be a pack of four dogs already running around and playing so off Alfie went, to play with the other dogs. I set up camp at a table and began working and it wasn't long until this guy with a camera came up to me and asked to take my picture for the local paper, the Arkansas Democrat Gazette. I said sure and just went about my business. Then, Alfie, inspired by Gisele Bundchen, decided to climb up to the table and start bashfully playing with my paint brush as I painted, licking my face, turning this way and that and generally hamming it up for the camera. When the guy was done he came over and asked if that was my dog. I told him yep and apparently he has aspirations of becoming an elite fashion model and is never shy in front of a camera. The photographer told me to look in the next day's paper for our picture. Below is what was printed.

Kate Lynch of Little Rock paints while her dog Alfie, a redbone coonhound, keeps an eye on a pack of dogs at Paws Park in Murray Park in Little Rock on Monday afternoon. Lynch was using watercolors and painting from a photograph she took in New Zealand.

When it was printed it was a space filler in the paper on the Arkansas section, thrown in between a story about a fiery bus crash and a convenience store robbery. Alfie could usually care less about visiting with me when he is running around the dog park so I thought it was funny that he decided that day to come over and interact with me all cutesy and what-not. Just so we're clear, it's an act. He's a charlatan, don't trust him for one second. I'm still not clear what his motives were but I believe it might have been to buy a one way ticket to stardom and outta this one horse town. I will keep you apprised.

I thought that the extent of people recognizing me would end at the three people I know here in Arkansas. Turns out, more people read the Dem. Gazette and read the captions of random pictures, than I thought. For instance, I dropped Alfie off at doggie day care (yes day care, I'm not working and I use dog day care, I'm that person) and the first thing the guy at the place said to me was "hey, I saw you guys in the paper!" But they were dog people and had watched Alfie at their center so it wasn't so unusual. About three days later I was throwing some trash into the dumpster in the back lot of my townhouse/apartment unit when Reno (named by me, not his given name), the homeless guy that sifts through the dumpsters for redeemable cans and bottles, scared the living shit out of me and then proceeded to tell me that he had seen my dog in the paper too. At which point he jumped out of the dumpster and started playing with Alfie. I found it a little weird that the dumpster diving homeless guy recognized my dog and knew him by name but I figured it was fine and heck, we're sort of neighbors.

Today I was walking Alfie, the weather was a balmy 25 degrees and we were sliding across and ice sheet that was the intersection near the local bar Juanita's when a gentleman donning bright red pants with chili peppers printed all over and a black bandanna with a confederate flag placed conspicuously in the center of his forehead, crossed the street and met us at the other side.
"Hey, is your dog friendly?" he then bends down and starts petting Alfie and Alfie starts licking the day old salsa off his knees and I needn't say that he was friendly. "Boy he is a good lookin' dog" confederate flag kitchen worker says and I say" thanks, his name is Alfie."
"Alfie?" says kitchen guy, "I saw him in the paper! you're just so cute, yes you are, you are cute, ooohshy, booshy boo...." and this goes on and I'm thinking, hello? I was in the paper too. Aren't I friggin' cute? why don't people cross the street to come and hug me? Why does Alfie always get the overly affectionate conversations and kisses from perfect strangers?

Then later, at the library, I am sitting on a bench outside with Alfie, getting ready to walk home when one of the many homeless guys that patronize the library during the cold months, stopped, looked at me and said "hey girl"
looking up I realized he too recognizes Alfie and wants to wrestle on the frozen ground with him here in front of the library and I say " oh yeah, this is my dog Alfie, you can pet him if you want, I'm sure you've seen him in the paper"
and homeless library guy says "nah girl, i ain't care 'bout your dog, I like your shoes." He smiles at me, winks and walks inside.
So it seems that not everyone is in love with Alfie, some people still notice me and more importantly, my shoes.

SEE BELOW

Alfie's Christmas Goose

Hi everybody! It's Jamey, and I need your help. I run a rodeo website (what?!?!?!? I know, trust me, no one is more surprised than I am.) The link to the website is http://www.espnrodeo.com/ or http://www.espnbullriding.com/ . I need you all to please, please come to the website and click around on stuff so that I can keep my job.

And forward these links on to anyone you know who's either
A.) interested in rodeo or bull riding,
B.) curious about the strange customs of cowfolks,
C.) compassionate enough to take some time and click around for a good cause, or
D.) afraid that if I lose my job Kate and I will come live at your house for an extended period of time (you know who you are!).

The best time to visit is now and everyday after that - http://www.espnrodeo.com/ . The best thing to do while you're there? Whatever you want - read one of my incisive articles about steer wrestling, bareback riding, or team roping, for example - but, the easiest and best thing for our traffic numbers is to go to any link that says photos, open a couple of photo galleries and click through, and then open another one and click through, etc...

The deal with our traffic is that we get to count every click, no matter where it comes from, so if I sat here at my computer and clicked through photo galleries (which I'm doing right now as I write this) and viewed 1,000,000 photos, we'd get 1,000,000 clicks. People buy ad space on our website depending on how much traffic there is and my boss' boss' boss decides that it's worth keeping Jamey on staff for at least a little while longer.

Thanks in advance for your support - each photo gallery you view means that Alfie (our dog) is that much closer to getting that Christmas goose and getting off those crutches... God bless us, every one.

It's a bit out of character for me to have several blogs just days following each other but i feel like i need to shout from the mountain tops or the Ozarks or the ghetto liquor store down the street. I am, like many, many people in this country, so relieved and elated to witness Barack Obama take the presidency. Win, out and out, no bullshit, win the presidency. No recounts, no supreme court and no accounts of voter fraud or corruption. How freaking refreshing. I feel like this oppressive scary stranglehold from this Bush administration has been lifted. As soon as the CNN projection came on the screen and the cheers went up i knew everything was changing and it was really, finally happening. I could breathe again!

For those of you who don't know I live in downtown Little Rock, a predominately black and poor part of town. It is as we speak being "revitalized" and what that means for this town isn't yet clear. I'd like to think Jamey and I are mavericks (just to use that word one more time) and we are singlehandedly reintegrating downtown Little Rock but alas, I can not take credit. My street for example is all med students or law students of different styles and persuasions but just one or two blocks away you get abandoned lots, abandoned Victorian homes and abandoned people living off the street or under the overpass on I630. This is the reality of this town. It isn't perfect, its an ugly American reality and we live here deliberately because we don't want to hide away in the white neighborhood and pretend that things like poverty and homelessness don't exist. We also know that by just renting a place down here we aren't going to change these realities but at least we think about them on a daily basis and we are constantly challenging ourselves to find solutions and sustainable ideas to address them as citizens of this city. And the people in this part of town know what it is to struggle for a myriad of reasons and so the Obama victory is felt on such a deeper level. It gives people an ounce of hope where there may have been none before.

Anyway, the other night we had a choice in locations for the election results parties but we heard that the UALR black law students were congregating at a bar close to our house so we decided that is where we wanted to be, surrounded by a sea of exceptionally smart people who understood the meaning of hard work and success. So it was me, Jamey and our friend Seth and we headed to our neighborhood Mexican bar to watch an African American man elected president. I wanted to be surrounded by people who were feeling this momentous occasion so deeply and to see on their faces the enormity of the event. Obama being elected was big for everyone in Little Rock and I have been feeling it for some time.

I was really reluctant to move to the South because of many reasons but facing the reality that racism and all the ugly trimmings that go along with it are still very much alive in this part of the country was one of the things that scared me the most. Our trips to Mississippi this summer were eye opening, scary and amazingly beautiful all at the same time. Living here has helped me to understand our sordid past as a country and the deep thriving culture that abounds here in the deep south. It was not lost on me that as I was celebrating in the streets after the projections were made, that I was just blocks away from Central High School and where the Little Rock Nine paved the way for social change and integration in 1957, 51 years ago. 51 years ago my parents were living the reality of the civil rights struggle and here I was today living the reality of what the brave people of that time had given me and the generations to come. Hope! Success without barriers.

By no means do I think that the struggle has ended. We may have leapt a large obstacle but there are many more battles to be won. Especially evident by the fact that most of the citizens of California still believe in taking away the rights of people based on their sexual orientation and that Arkansans believe that homosexual couples should never raise a child together. I wish that they would just wade through the bullshit talk and put what it is they really mean on the ballot:

Issue 1: Because the person proposing this bill is ignorant and scared, gay people and heterosexuals who don't want to get married should never raise or foster a child-
check yes/check no.

Anyway, I digress. I just feel so damn proud. I feel proud of my country, finally. I feel like I can travel overseas and not pretend to be Canadian (although I never did because I wanted to prove Americans were cool cats like me). I feel like I can believe that the leader of my country has its people in its best interest and understands the word democracy and community. I feel like this administration doesn't believe in governing using fear and oppressive scare tactics. I feel like the youth is finally AWAKE! I feel like dancing in the streets and hugging random people! oh wait, I already did that! And I was here, in Arkansas, voting for an African American President. Oh I see that promise land, indeed I do.

(this is sort of a random picture but I saw it on shirt in Provincetown once and I thought it was hilarious, just sharing the hilarity with you)

Even today, two days after the election I felt like I could walk into the Community Bakery, stand on my chair and yell "OBAMA" and I would have a chorus of whoops and hollers ringing along with me. It wouldn't be weird it would be an jubilant expression of how most of the people in this town feel. Usually when I stand on my chair and shout things I get food thrown at me so this has been a refreshing time. Although this state went Red, its very core is blue. Right smack in the center, here in Little Rock. And damn it, if Virginia can vote for a Dem anything is possible.

So I have learned several things over the last few days not excluding the Obama shuffle, which if you don't already know you apparently don't belong to an African American Fraternity at a state university. I have learned to trust the American people again and to believe that really, it is all possible. Anything we believe in and work for we can achieve. And we may not have a woman president now but I tell you what I'm voting for Michelle Obama in 2012. Hey, we don't even need to change our yard signs! Recycle!

Just a quick thanks!

Hi Y'all!
Thanks to all of my friends and family that supported me in the Little Rock Walk to support the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Little Rock raised enough money ($28,000.00) to start a chapter of the AFSP in the state to help fund research and support for people struggling with depression and other mental health problems. I think this is a pretty big feat for only 500 people raising money the first year. YEE HAW ARKANSAS!
I attached a picture of me in my Out of the Darkness shirt so there is proof the money went to the walk and not to buy a new keyboard to practice my Roberta Flack songs. Also, my mom was here this weekend and she went on a really tough, long hike in the craggy terrain of Petit Jean mountain with me and my hound dog Alfie. Alfie was born near this mountain and I wanted him to remember his roots so he got to sniffing early and his nose never left the ground. I'm very proud of my mama and how healthy she is now. Congratulations to Rosemary for hiking her second trail ever! (she is from the Bronx after all) Kick ass!

my momma in da grotto

reflections

Just finished and still peppy!

nite nite after the long hike

Oysters, bar fights and Red Sox heartache

We took the most beloved weekend on the cape and made our journey to enjoy the festive delights of the annual Oysterfest in Wellfleet. Wellfleet is the town where Jamey and i first met. i handed him a basket of dirty laundry and asked him to bring it to my room to which he looked at me and said nothing. What a jerk. It was total love at first site. Wellfleet was the first town I ever lived on my own, out of Virginia and it will always have a piece of my heart.

Wellfleet was our stomping ground for about a year. We frolicked and played along the towering golden sand dunes, drank good new england beer by bonfire on chilly nights and howled at the full moon in the dead of winter. There is nothing that is more Cape Cod to us than that crusty fishing town squeezed between the bay and the Atlantic ocean. In one afternoon you can surf with the harbor seals and in a matter of minutes be digging oysters out of the bay for a salty seafood smorgasbord. And that is why we worship the wellfleet oyster. They are much like the salty people of its town. Its tough exterior and rough edges can cut you but if you are careful enough you can cajole one to open up and reveal to you the glory of a surprisingly loving core. If oysters can have a loving core that is, which for this metaphor, they do.

Oysterfest started the year before we moved to Wellfleet. Ever since we lived up there, whatever our situation, we always made it out to Wellfleet for the festival. It was a chance to catch up with old friends and neighbors and of course, drink a beer at the Bombshelter. The bombshelter is this little gem of a bar, underneath a restaurant called the Bookstore. Yes, the Bombshelter is in fact underground and ever there was a reason to need a fall out shelter I would hope that it would have a full bar just like this one, and of course a pool table and a juke box and a really surly bartender that has worked there FOREVER. The first night of the Oysterfest we met up with some friends a new restaurant on the waterfront that was spinning some good music and had a great laid back atmosphere however we were soon itching to leave because we knew the Sox were playing game four of the ALCS against the Tampa poopy Bay Rays. After a couple of drinks from the hot pink punch, a bunch of us moseyed over to the Bombshelter to watch the game. This year we were excited to actually be in Mass. when the Sox were in the finals. Every year prior we have been either in a car loaded with ALL of our belongings headed south for the winter or, well, yeah, usually that is what we were doing. Moving. Again. So this year we did things backwards and we were actually going to Massachusetts and we were psyched to be able to celebrate with local fans.

(Go Wellfleet!)

After ordering a round of beers and I think there was some tequila thrown in there for good measure, we were enjoying the game and the sox were up three runs. It was all fun and games until all of the sudden we started feeling a great pressure and pushing from the crowd smushing us up against the bar. I looked back at Jamey to try and figure out what was wrong and low and behold a short but very round woman was throwing her weight into the crowd. Now, mind you, I wouldnt have thought twice about it except that she was about 250 pounds, about 45 years old and clearly hell bent on getting to the bar to order another drink, oh yeah, and there were 5,000 people in the bar already. When this beauty finally did reach the bar, after much rolling and sloppy grossness, she started stringing words together, from which we could only deduce she was ordering another drink, because clearly she hadn't had enough already. For whatever reason the bartender did not see her or chose to ignore her or was unable to understand flobbersloselnoodlelam, the drink she ordered. At this point we were thoroughly grossed out and annoyed at the amount of space she was demanding and we started trying to push her away from the bar and out the door. Her poor friend, clearly sober, was embarrassed and asking her to stop acting that way and to leave but doing nothing to really help the situation.

Well, then it got really interesting. We just wanted to watch the Sox, not this disgusting drunk blob. When we were against the bar this lady started caressing Jamey's hair and fondling his back as she attempted to keep herself standing using the bar and the crowd to right herself. It was at this moment that Jamey had had enough and started shouting into the crowd for people to help get her the hell out of there. Ummm, gross about sums it up. After trying to call attention to blob drunk lady and no one seemed to be responding, Jamey decided to take matters into his own hands and force her away from him. He was able to push her about 12 inches before all hell broke loose and she went from loving Jamey to wanting to kill Jamey with her fist. And she tried. As he pushed her she whipped around and cold cocked him in the face. Stunned, Jamey kept shouting to get her out of the bar and proceeded to use a modified hog tying technique by grabbing her flailing fists and locking them together and using all of his weight to push her out the door. Somewhere in the middle of all of this her elbow caught his lip and drew blood. At this point I realized that I wanted a piece of her because I knew Jamey would never hit a "lady" if that's what we want to call her. So I started to charge the woman because I really wanted the opportunity to defend my mans honor with physical violence. I mean, I am never in that situation, I was ready to throw down. This was a good cause and it was the Bombshelter and behavior like that is generally permissible. So as I went into a dive to land on top of her like a wrestler, Jamey caught me and lifted me back behind him with little difficulty. It was a futile attempt. At this point, my friend Amy had informed the bartender that there was a lady throwing punches. When he heard this news he was surprisingly agile and leapt over the bar, landed near the scuffle and began to drag the lady out while Jamey kept pushing her from behind, hands still hog tied.

Now the question I ask now is, does this lady wake up in the morning and have a good laugh about her crazy night out or does she hide in a hole for the rest of her life because she's an embarrassment to women and mankind in general? All in all the night was a success, the Red Sox won that game, we danced and caught up with friends we hadn't seen in years and we beat up a drunk lady or a drunk lady beat up Jamey. It was all I could have asked for, it was an authentic Massachusetts night out.

For a clearer picture of what this lady looked like I have rendered a drawing for dramatic effect.
This picture shows the bartender that eventually helped us boot the drunk lady out. He's in the background, never mind Amy and I enjoying the rinds of our limes. Yum.

oystershucking on main street

Below are some pics I took on the plan ride up there of the fall colors! enjoy! and Please keep the peace, fight with your minds not your fists people. It only gets you fat lips and bruised eyes.

Boston on approach

dead people in a cemetery enjoying the fall colors

golf course!

This Ain't My First Rodeo, no, It's My First "Bullnanza"

Now I imagine the title being read with enthusiasm and the "Bullnanza" part accompanied by Jazz Hands. If you don't know what Jazz hands are I suggest you Google that because I bet the urban dictionary definition will be funny.

Recently Jamey was assigned to work one weekend in Guthrie Oklahoma at a little event called "Bullnanza". For all of you rodeo freaks out there, I'm sure you know what Bullnanza is and probably have even had some dirt kicked on you from an enraged bull, so you can appreciate the story I am about to tell. We arrived in Oklahoma on a Friday night after a 6 hour drive from Little Rock. I accompanied Jamey with the intention of helping him with a portion of the Rough Guides research that was to be done in Eureka Springs Arkansas, hands down, the coolest town in Arkansas. Sorry Little Rock people. We were going to stop in Eureka on the way home from OK. Until then we were hangin with some cowboys in Guthrie.

On Saturday, I decided I couldn't miss out on this cultural phenomenon of bull riding in the heart of the USA. I wanted to experience the cowboy culture surrounded by people who's passion for bull riding could be likened to the European passion for cricket or the other American passion of drinking bud light at a Nascar race.

The competition wasnt an actual rodeo. It was an event called "Bullnanza" which I guess is more of an exhibition of the best bull riders in the country. The Bullnanza competition was judged and the whole holding on for dear life for 8 seconds did apply. The bulls were angry and aggressive and ready to kill. The cowboys were more than willing to jump on them in a cage and then ride them into the arena, get thrown off and sometimes pelted so hard in the spine that they are unable to coordinate their thoughts or motor skills for a good five minutes. And then you win $50,000.00. How this is different from a real rodeo, I have yet to figure out. Nevertheless, it was Bullnanza and I was a part of this grand tradition in Guthrie Oklahoma.

The evening started with Jamey, his co-editor Melanie and I being allowed press access because Jamey and Melanie work for some media outlet called "ESPN", a sports network which apparently is really popular or something. So we had all access to the cowboys to ask the important questions and pick their brains about their love of this sport. Turns out, most of them speak Portugese so there was a little bit of a language barrier. Brazilians make up some of the most successful competitors in this sport. Who knew? I was there as a fake reporter and basically just walked around wide eyed and confused looking because I have never been to anything like this in my life. I did realize at one point (about the time I saw the guy get hooved in the spine) that I had been to a similar event before. It was called bullfighting and it was in Valencia Spain. There were shinier costumes, big red capes and more blood, so it wasn't exactly the same but the two events had remarkable similarities.

Jamey brought up at one point that we were watching a gladiator sport. Spectators waiting for the thrill of blood, the adrenaline rush from the infinite possibilities of injuries and perhaps seeing your hero reduced to a comatose vegetable or end the night with a bull horn through the windpipe. What a thrill. I was amazed, despite the mixed feelings of disgust and joy, that I was actually beginning to learn the riders names and differentiate the mean bulls and the not as mean bulls.

The beginning of the show started with a tribute to a bull riding announcer who had recently passed. During his tenured career he was known for telling life stories about inanimate objects. We were introduced, in first person, to the American Flag. This Flag has lived a hard life and made it through wars and blah blah blah and "I was born for freedom and God willing in freedom I will die". All this while in the spot light following Mr. Flag riding atop a horse (well a person holding it but it would have been much better showmanship if a flag itself riding on the horse alone, maybe next time). Next we were introduced to the stars of the show, two enormous raging bulls. The lights went out and the smoke machines blew smoke into the arena and the two bulls were let out to strut and warn the crowd of the possible maimings in the next few hours. They walked out, were obviously trained to stand and blow smoke out of their enormous nostrils and then saunter back into the cage thingy. It was weird and exciting all at the same time. The scary bull was named Voodoo Child, which coincidentally is the name Jamey and I were going to give our two person folk-synthesizer band. Once they were back in the pen the competition was on. The lights came up and the cowboys began to ride and clutch the rope thing for what seems to be an interminable 8 seconds.

(One of these guys isn't a cowboy, can you guess which one? You guessed it! It's the guy wearing the backpack and running shoes to a rodeo.)

The next few hours went by with little blood and the competition ended with a winner and prize money and lots of oohs and aahs. Towards the end of the competition I followed Jamey to the super exclusive press/family/cowboy area behind the bull cages. I was standing near the exit door for the cowboys once they have been bucked off and all of the sudden I felt I was getting pelted in the head. I immediately looked up to blame the crowd for throwing popcorn and trash at the confused looking yankee in the bull pit but to my relief it was only dirt chunks being spewed from an angry bull charging the exit door five feet away. It was one of those moments in my life where I take pause and wonder what the hell I'm doing and how I got there. I've had a lot of those during my 20's.
After the competition we decided that we needed some tall boys so we headed to the upstairs bar for a drink and some two steppin'. We rocked out to some G&R and traditional country hits and then called it a night. All in all it was a great, authentic, weird, American experience.
I'm still not sure how I feel about Rodeo or Bullnanza's for that matter. I'm stuck somewhere between letting it be what it is, another bizarre sporting event or being adamantly against the exploitation of bulls. I'll let you know when I figure it out.
Meanwhile, on the domestic home front, after a brief goopy eye illness, Alfie is better and the countdown is on until his surgery to lose his physical manhood. We've recently taught him to "shake" which we are now regretting because he has enormous paws and his "shake" generally turns into a right hook to our face. We'll be working on this one. Below are some recent pictures of Jamey and Alfie wearing life vests dangerously wrong.
I hope everyone is well. Stay on the look out for Jamey's blog. I know I said he would be writing one but he's slow and we don't want to read some lame dribble so we have to give him time and no pressure. The Panama book officially went to the typesetter so that one is in the bag! YAY! Be well and be happy friends and family!

"take everything down highway 61"

Our first trip for the USA Rough Guides was planned about two weeks ago. I was madly trying to fit a week long Rough Guides trip in a 2 day time slot and Jamey was slaving away at ESPN and hardly even thinking of Rough Guides or spending a hot 105 degree weekend on the Mississippi Delta. After all the frenzy, we kicked back and decide we didn't want to go that weekend. Instead we held off for another weekend when the Sunflower Blues and Gospel Festival was to be held. What a fantastic ending to our procrastination. We headed east this past weekend and for authenticity we packed some beer and our hound dog and headed to the Delta.

We had a few days to travel about 3 hours over the River to Clarkesdale, Mississippi where the festival is held each year in early August. And just our luck, a cool down descended upon the deep south and we even felt saw some rain drops scatter across our windshield. Traditional team JK style, we found some cheap i.e. free accommodations at an RV park. The highway to one side, an old Christmas float, waiting to be ridden down sunflower ave., on the other side. In addition to this magnificent float there was plenty of wide open space, homeless dogs and random people in gigantic RV's who offered us coffee and walked around shirtless. It was exactly where we needed to be.






There is so much to say about this town I dont even know where to start. What I can say is that there is at least 20,000 people from Mississippi that are voting for Obama. Clarkesdale is an awesome little liberal enclave in the deep conservative south. Anyway, I'm going to write less and instead post some pics of the weekend and let them do some of the talkin' and let Jamey do the rest. Yes, that's right, Jamey was so inspired by the Crossroads that he has committed to writing about the trip on the blog. If you have ever crossed out states like Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas or any other southern place from your cross country itinerary, you should have reconsidered. We met a blues playing, harmonica jamming man and his son from Holland, taking a cross country trip from Florida to L.A. He told us that he wanted to give his young son this memory and specifically to give him the gift of blues music where the Blues was born. He told us his son was enjoying the music but more importantly he really wanted to come over and pet Alfie. He came all the way from Holland and purposefully visited the south, and in the dead heat of summer. That's serious dedication. Dutch people are so cool. Never met one we didn't like.















Mississippi is alive with culture and gives you a history lesson that you will never forget and one that should be mandatory for every American. To visit a place with such a dark, heavy history and to see that history alive in music and song and dance and in peoples faces and even the signs on the highway, its inspiring and humbling all at once. It was a crazy experience and almost made me feel that I was in a different country all together. People were more or less unimpressed that we were from Little Rock. They actually tended to be disappointed that we were from LR because they viewed it as more unauthentic than other places in the south. Agree or not, Mississippi probably does take the prize for music culture and a bit more scary and interesting American history.









Enjoy the pics, the link to the right gives you access to the whole album on Flickr.com. A blog from the big JB coming soon............





Oh, and P.S.- yes, that is authentic cotton from the field hanging out of Alfie's slobbery mouth in the pic at the top.

Introducing the new Dairy King Frizzard!

When we moved down here I knew the summer heat was something I would have to get used to, especially considering June in Massachusetts ( on the Cape) reaches about 80 as a high and then creeps up to 85 at the peak of summer. Here in Central Arkansas we reach about 95 everyday and the heat lingers until late evening. You only feel it cool down after about 9pm or later. It’s been okay so far because I’m not working on the highway picking up trash or the ultimate worst job ever- paving a street in mid summer, or wait, picking up bloated road kill, yeah, that’s the worst job ever. Everyone tells me that this is nothing and that it is only going to get worse. Worse? What the hell? I have been nearly on the equator and I have never felt heat like this. I was standing in front of my house the other day, in the middle of the road while Alfie was sniffing something disgusting and dead and I was thinking that I was literally melting. I have never felt a summer so hot. So usually when the heat starts getting to me I jump in the nearest body of water, which in downtown Little Rock happens to be a puddle of urine left by a bum. Okay that’s gross and over-exaggerating but sort of true. Considering this may be my only option, and the gas prices are a little too pricey for me to drive for the natural body of water an hour away, I think I’ll just tough it out and stop bitching. Done and done.

So to make things a little bit more dramatic here with the summer heat and the sun burning my skin off my bones, there is no ice cream. Sure, I could go to the store and get some but it’s just not the same. I want an authentic ice cream shop on every corner. Well, not really. My parents were here for the Fourth of July and we drove up north to see Jamey’s family and mid drive we stopped in a small town and purchased $1.00 ice cream. $1.00?! I love it! It was so yummy and the 90 year old lady that served us was even better! Jamey informed me the other day that Dairy Queen has begun the most genius partnership in the history of ice cream partnerships (maybe aside from Mr. Ben and Mr. Jerry of Vermont). DQ has announced their mixture of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies as a BLIZZARD! What?! This is a remarkable moment in history. The Blizzard is awesome just as it is but then add some Girl Scout Cookies and you’ve got heaven blended and stirred with yummy chunks of mint and chocolate! AHHHH, I can hardly contain myself only to learn that Little Rock does not have an F’in Dairy Queen. Okay, now I’m really pissed. What city in America or street corner near a KFC and McDonalds does not have a Dairy Queen? Am I in America still or have I time warped somewhere else? I’ve done a bit of research on this important matter and it turns out the closest one is 20 miles away. What has Little Rock done to offend the DQ franchise? I’m not sure we’ll ever know but I do have a plausible theory.

My theory begins with TCBY, the international chain that in recent years has fallen on some hard times and can be tricky to find in any city. In fact, I used to frequent a TCBY in Alexandria all the time and then one day it was gone. I mourned for months. It turns out that TCBY had its headquarters here in Little Rock for many years and the large building where the HQ was housed was even called the TCBY building. My theory is this: TCBY has some major beef (no pun intended, I swear) with DQ because they are their biggest competition for soft serve and so they had the city zoned so DQ could not open franchises within the city limits or they will get their knees capped by masked men in jumpsuits. That about sums up my theory, I mean, what else could it be? People in the south don’t eat greasy cheeseburgers, oozy cheesy hot dogs and ice cream sundaes the size of your head? Umm, I doubt that, in fact, the obesity rate here proves that’s not true. It’s definitely the knee-capping masked men theory. I am going to change the fate of this town and open a Dairy King and sell Boy Scout cookies and ice cream mixed in what will be called a “Frizzard.” Let me know if you want in on a franchise in your town. Add that to my list of business ideas that will make me millions.

Finally, an update on our pup Alfie. He’s awesome. That’s about it. We’re totally in love. Here’s a picture or two for your enjoyment. He’s gained 8 pounds in fourteen days and is continuing to grow. Alfie and his cousin Arnie have bonded pretty well, they talk about their ears and life as a hound dog and they generally get on really well. Hope everyone is happy and healthy and thoroughly enjoying their summer!

Oh! P.P.S.- Jamey landed another freelance job working for Rough Guides this summer. He will be contributing to the Rough Guide to the USA, which is fortunate for us because that’s where we live. Jamey will be covering Mississippi, specifically the Delta Blues Trail and Arkansas. Hey, that’s where we live! Arkansas! So we will be the backpacking and touring authorities on the Delta region of the South in addition on how to evade the police in Panama. Road trips! We’ll keep you updated!

Meet Alfie

Hi friends and family,

I thought it would be a good time to introduce you to our new dog Alfalfa Sprout. We just brought him from a beautiful Arkansas farm near Petit Jean mountain. I know he and his brothers and sisters had a good life there so all we can hope for is that he is as happy with us as he was on the farm. His mother was surprisingly tall and the sire is supposedly big for the breed meaning that the paws on Alfie are telling of whats to come. He is a Redbone Coonhound and we fell in love as soon as we saw him.

His first night I was warned about so many things, mainly that he would whine and wimper to alert his pack to find him. I knew I had to be tough and realize that he isn't "crying" like we might think. His first night he slept and slept and was soooooooo good. He slept the whole night while I tossed and turned and stayed awake and alert should there be a time when I had to rush him down the stairs and out the door to use the bathroom. He just slept. I kept thinking that there was something wrong with him and was thinking for a while that he must be dying from heartache thats why he's not showing the signs of the new puppy first night crazies but nope, he just kept sleeping. So Alfie is well rested and Jamey too since in order for Jamey to agree to get this dog I had to assume all puppy duties; breaking habits, house training, etc. So I am tired but it seems that if day one and day two are any indication of the temperment of this dog I will be relieved from a lot of stress.

Jamey and I have agonized over getting a dog for a long time. Since we were so transient for so long we never had the opportunity to get a companion but now we've made a commitment and there ain't goin back. I think that is what freaks Jamey out the most. Jamey has given me a pet before. My first Valentines Day gift from him was a Beta fish named Nikhil. Jamey surprised me and made me close my eyes and put my hand in the fish bowl. I pulled back my hand and opened my eyes as I felt the water. To my surprise, there was my brand new Beta fish, swimming upside down on top of the water. Apparently it wasn't a good idea to transfer a new Beta fish from room temperature distilled water to freezing cold well water in a glass bowl. I was confused at first as to why he would want to give me a dead fish but it turns out that he didn't mean to, from the time he transferred the fish to the bowl in the kitchen to the time he got to the living room, the Nikhil 1 died. It was the thought that counts. That's the last present I ever got from Jamey. I'm just glad he consented to having a dog. Its much more fun to play with Alfie than with a dead Beta fish, trust me.