You say "uvula"...

This area of Wisconsin is filthy with one fest or another throughout the summer. Each town has its corn fests, broiler fests, bean and bacon days, beef-a-ramas, oktoberfests, beer fests, blues fests, you name it.

One summer, probably a handful of years ago, Fahjah and I went to one of the local fests. As we stood off to the side, each enjoying a corn dog...

Pop: "There's no unweird way to eat a corn dog in public."

Me: "I know. Then there's the danger of stabbing myself with the stick in the hangy-down at the back of my throat."

Pop: "Uh huh." (pause) "Isn't that the vulva?"

Me: I shake my head. "Lower."

Pop, in a lower voice: "Isn't that the vulva?"

Stop your damn whining already

Apparently, I need an explanation regarding the use of stereotypes. People seem to treat them like derogatory names and get all weird when they are mentioned in conversations. Don't confuse this with pejorative words that are meant to hurt or offend.

But back to the stereotypes. Are they not based on fact for the most part? Can the majority of crackers jump? Are our dark-skinned brothers and sisters not more inclined to be fluid in movement while dancing? Do butch lesbians not dress like dudes?

My guess is if you're offended by a generalized statement of your race, creed (treehuggers avoid shaving), religion (Lutherans love lemon jello), or gender (women are emotional), you probably have a more personal problem.

Then there's people who rush in to defend another race's issues. When the Native Americans get pissy about schools using their tribes as mascots, I'll back them. But not when some fat white PTA mom starts picketing. Besides, if I was Native American, I'd be pretty flattered. There's no high school I can think of whose mascot is  "The White Guy" (no, we don't really know for sure what the Lancer is under that visor). I suppose if there was we whites would be stereotyped as oppressive. Woops, there's another one.

So here's the thing. If you're a woman, and somebody tells you women can't drive, but you are a good driver, have an umbrella drink, and let them have their opinion. Don't start railing on the person, you'll make us all look emotional.

It's just cherry ice, yo

If I had to pick the one innovative thing on the planet that has altered the fabric of good-natured humanity for all time...

The familiar strains of a bullhorned lullaby drifting through the humid summer air a few blocks away would send Bromas and I into a shrieking, money-sucking whirlwind of glee. No coat pocket in the closet was safe from the grasping hands in search of cash when the creepy white delivery truck with the side window tracked onto our collective radar. Yes, once you threw yourself in front of the crazy-eyed driver, you could count on finding a Chocolate Eclair or a Bomb Pop and that mushy, gross chocolate chip cookie sammich. But the one ice cream novelty that, time and time again, sated our lust for sugar and cherry flavor was the Screwball. With that mushy, gross gumball in the bottom.

As we aged, and the happiness of childhood was slowly swapped out with the ennui of adulthood, the Screwball had faded into distant memory. Until, that is, a day that normally wouldn't have been anything more than a mopey event, turned out, well, screwy.

My grandfather had passed away in October of 1999. The following Spring, Bromas had come to visit from Eau Claire and intended to pick up Grandpa's seldom-driven and well-kept 1984 two-door, two-tone Caprice Classic (remember when the gashole (I said it) was behind the rear license plate?). It was a classy, smooth-riding, velour-coated, land yacht of a car.

While we were hanging out in the driveway of our soon-to-be-sold grandparent's house, Tom (age 24) and I (age 28) were in conversation and abruptly halted when the tinny sounds caught both of us simultaneously: SCREWBALLS!

Nothing else was said, it was a mutual agreement on what we must have and when we must have it. We hopped into the couch on wheels. Tom played wheelman and I hung my head out the window like a Labrador Retriever, tongue lolling, desperately zooming in aurally on that childhood need. Once the ice cream man was spotted, Bromas halted in front of the frightened driver and his white truck, this scenario all the world looking like a modern stagecoach holdup, as if to say, "There is no way IN HELL we're letting you get away without the gold."

I waited in the car while Tom went around the side of the truck. And returned with Screwballs. A CASE of them. After I stopped laughing hysterically, it occurred to me that, being in that car, Grandpa meant for us to keep one more memory of him, just for us. Riding down the expressway, windows open, radio blaring (push-button baby!), glomming down Screwballs. Just a pinch of childhood revisited.

* * *

Fast forward to 2005. Fahjah and I embark on a three-day dual Harley excursion with stops in the Wisconsin Dells, Spring Green and Prairie du Chien. As we arrived in PdC after a good span of time hanging out around Frank Lloyd Wright's old hangout (and TOTALLY dumping Fahjah's custom-painted Softail at the bottom of FLW's driveway), I spotted an ice cream truck. The Screwball bulb popped on and I switched it back off. Then I thought, "Why the hell not?" and went ape-shit. My father could only follow after me in what had to appear to him as a fit of throttle stickage. After barely remembering to put the kickstand down, I ran straight up to the window of the (again) creepy, white delivery truck's side window, pushed aside an indecisive young boy and his flabbergasted father, and ordered breathlessly, "TWO SCREWBALLS PLEASE!" The look on my own dad's face was priceless, as I tried to spill out the Screwball history and shove my face in the plastic-coned goodness at the same time.

Of course, in the spirit of good old sibling rivalry, Bromas and Fahjah were on a trip somewhere together not long after, and needed to rub in that they were enjoying another round of Screwballs.

Jeebus help me if I wasn't so easily amused. When my time comes, if you decide to show up for my "wrap party," Screwballs are on the house. Then you'll know.

Snakelips and Hamster Belly

When I was a kid, I think my mom got bored of hearing us ask, "What's for dinner?" She started coming up with new and exciting meal options. One night "snakelips" appeared on the menu...and it stuck.

Snakelips became the go-to name for Kraft Mac & Cheese. Hamster belly just started from a Mad-Lib I remember my brother and I doing in the car with my mom while we were waiting outside of the Walgreen's in Hanover Park. We never really applied that to an actual food, however, now that I'm giving it some thought I think the best fit would be chicken Kiev. Yum.

Does anyone else out there have better names for meals? I can't wait to try out some new ones the next time I cook...if ever. :)

Inaugural installment of "WWYD?" (What Would You Do)

I found this on PostSecret:

I wondered the same thing. I could only guess because I haven't had my abode completely burn down yet. That kitchen incident, I only left after I was sure I put the candle-induced fire out (thereby coating the entire room in white) and my next-door neighbor and good friend Jody grabbed me by the arm and forcibly removed me.

Don't dwell on it. Just ask yourself. What's the first few things you think of that you'd grab if you could (or have had to)? All I could come up with (after grabbing my brother, obviously...no one's gonna make me another one of those) was my computer and the box of photos in the basement. If you're thinking the computer because of the ginormous hard drive full of music or the scads of video games installed on it (what a hassle to lose that!), it's actually the largest repository of photos I have besides the box in the basement.

I would mourn the loss of handmade gifts and memories associated with them, but, aside from my strength of olfactory-triggered memory, my visual memory is right up there and I don't get the same response from a heart-shaped dish my grandmother kept on her dresser as I would of the photo of her sitting on Santa's lap at the family's Christmas Eve party so long ago. The picture of my momma and I sharing a VERY stinky bedroom at a B&B in Salem, Massachusetts one Halloween elicits more emotion than the VERY beautiful, Momma-created ceramic cup. Okay, so I'd grab that too (and the raven necklace). But we're talking only seconds of time and whatever you can hold in your hands (unless you happen to have a backpack in every room...which I seem to).

This question caught me, though, at a time where I just want to get rid of so much "stuff." Things in the basement that are just sitting there...old memories, no-longer-important items, floppy disks and Tae-Bo VHS tapes for Pete's sake. I feel so much better when I purge belongings...actually, now I think I might be on to something. Maybe I should make sure the insurance is up-to-date...

Just a booger on the fingernail of the Universe

That's us. Actually we're much smaller.

I was following along with my friend Wood's Astronomy class and learned some really cool stuff. Everywhere you look on the internet, it is mentioned how difficult it is to grasp the age of the Universe and Earth. Big numbers don't explain the concept very clearly. So this example (also, found everywhere on the internet) was kind of stunning.

If you compressed the timeline of the Universe into a calendar year, meaning the Big Bang is January 1st and present day is midnight, December 31st, here's what it would work out to...

• January 1st - The Big Bang (the Universe begins to form)
• February - Our Milky Way Galaxy forms
• August - Sun and planets form
• September - Oldest known life (single-celled organisms) forms
• November - we see the beginning of multi-cellular organisms
• December 15 - Cambrian Explosion (burst of new life forms)
• December 17 - Emergence of first vertebrates
• December 18 - Early land plants
• December 20 - First four-limbed animals
• December 21 - Variety of insects begin to flourish
• December 24 - First dinosaurs appear
• December 25 - First mammalian animals appear
• December 27 - First birds appear
• December 29 - Dinosaurs wiped out by cataclysmic event
• On December 31st, in the morning, is when any speck of human ancestry appears on Earth
• 12/31 - 10:15a - Apes appear
• 12/31 - 9:24p - First humans to walk upright
• 12/31 - 10:48p - Homo erectus appears (shut up, Beavis)
• 12/31 - 11:54p - Anatomically modern humans appear (that's SIX minutes before midnight, brothers and sisters)
• 12/31 - 11:59:45p - Invention of writing
• 12/31 - 11:59:50p - Pyramids built in Egypt
• 12/31 - 11:59:59p - (1 second before midnight) Voyage of Christopher Columbus

It was only about 12,500 years ago that the very spot where I sit today (killing time during the slow part of the academic year) was only just beginning to thaw out from the last Ice Age.

The thought terrifies and amazes me all at the same time. We humans have done so much, it seems, in such a short time. My parents were watching black and white television and standing, umbilically connected to the rotary phone on the wall. My grandparents were driving early cars, and listening to radio programs at night. And yet, a look at geologic time shows just how small we we really are in the big picture.

I Will Never Forget

Taking some time today to contemplate the meaning of Memorial Day, I find myself feeling genuine heartache at the ultimate sacrifices of our men and women, young and old, at home and across the oceans in times of strife. Some made a choice, some were drafted. Most put aside their way of life and did their best.

Parents lost children, children lost parents, loved ones dying on foreign lands in order to free people of other nations and defend our own.

I am small, I am selfish and I am unworthy. But most intensely, I am grateful to all that I live in a country of peace and prosperity where there are STILL people who are willing to sacrifice their lives in service of our nation.

Thank you, dear Americans, and to my loved ones in particular, for making that profound choice. I will always be in awe of your courage to follow through.

Sigmund Kopec, KIA, WWII

Chester Kujawa

Daniel Kujawa

Donald Barberini

Richard Kujawa

James Pauling

John Kawa

J. Scott Holley

Erin Howle

Benjamin Bridges

Jacob Veness

Jeffrey Juhnke