BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

A gentle reminder: I don’t just spout silliness here on this blog. I also write novels. Those are what put the bread on the table, but bread is just about it as far as that goes. My wife has to bring home the bacon (and broccoli, and eggs, and milk, and…) That’s not what this is about, however…

If you have read my official bio over on my regular “author type person” website then you have probably run across the part about us having a pair of rescued felines, both of whom I describe as “the competition.”

Why “the competition?” some have asked.

Easy. They’ve got a thing for The Supreme Redhead. Yeah… E K.

Now, I realize that sounds a bit paranoid, but let me tell you a story. A recent story, in fact, and not at all unusual around here with these furry lunatics.

Just the other night, E K was on the sofa, and Competition #1, AKA Asphalt (because we rescued him from the middle of a highway on-ramp) immediately climbed onto her lap. He does this every time she parks for more than two minutes. Yes… I can hear you now, “But, Murv, that’s normal for cats.”

Yeah… sure.

As usual, E K babbled at him a bit, making all those “wooja-wooja ai lub yoo” noises and scritching him behind the ears. Now, remember, Asphalt started life as a kitten the size of a large hamster, but has grown to better than 20 lbs and has a head the size of a small melon. So, with him sprawled across EKay’s lap, she is sort of trapped.

The bag of tuna breath waited until she was finished and had directed her attention elsewhere. Then, he looked around, stared directly at me for a moment, then shifted a little, raised a paw, and copped a feel.

Yes. Pardon the colloquialism, but the old lardass planted his paw on EKay’s right “boob,” and left it there. Then, he looked at me with an expression on the order of, “Neener Neener, What’re you gonna do about it?”

And before you tell me that it was just a cat being a cat, I’d like to remind you that I saw the look on his face, so I know better.

All I can say is that if he starts bringing her dead stuff, he and I are going to go out back and have a talk. I’m pretty sure I can take him…

More to come…

Murv

For the title of this blog entry to actually make any sense, we really need to jump into the “wayback machine” and set the dial for 2008.

Well… I suppose that would technically make it a “recent back” or maybe “near back” machine…

Suffice it to say, we have to take a short jaunt back in time.

Ready?

Okay, here we go…

Kerchunk, flumminerp! Glorp. Chonk. Chonk. Glorp.

And, here we are…

In 2008 I attended a wonderful little gathering called “OstaraFest.” It was held in Killeen / Fort Hood, Texas, and sponsored by Sisters of the Earth and Sea, a fantastic little spirituality store there in town. The owners, Joyce and Lolly, brought Morrison and me in for the event, and were not only by proxy, but by self-assignation, our handlers. This meant Joyce took care of Morrison, and Lolly took care of me – as in, seeing to it I was where I needed to be when I needed to be there, that I had a ride to and from the hotel, and very importantly, that I ate.

This is where the fun began. So much was happening at the 1 day festival proper, that Lolly forgot to “feed me.” Not for the whole event, mind you. Just lunch on Saturday during the event. It was really a comedy of errors to be sure, as it went something like this –

Lolly: “Murv, have you eaten yet?”

Me: “No, but I’m giving a workshop in 5 minutes.”

Lolly: “I’ll get you some lunch as soon as you are finished.”

2 hours later…

Lolly: “Murv, have you eaten yet?”

Me: “No, but I’m giving a workshop in 5 minutes.”

Lolly: “I’ll get you some lunch as soon as you are finished.”

2 hours later…

Lolly: “Murv, have you eaten yet?”

Me: “Nope…”

Lolly: “Ummm… the vendors ran out of food.”

In all honesty, it wasn’t a big deal. Seriously. I hadn’t even thought about eating, plus I’m a fat guy. I could probably go for a week without food, no worries. Still, the entire debacle became a running joke.

Back into the “way-near-back-forward machine” we go…

Prolg. Knohc. Knohc. Prolg. Prenimmulf, knuhcrek!

And here we are, back in 2010. Morrison and I were invited back to Texas for the second OstaraFest (they had to skip 2009 for a variety of reasons). Again, Joyce and Lolly were our defacto handlers, but this time they also enlisted the aid of their husbands, AND everyone else within a 25 mile radius. It seems Lolly was dead set on making sure “Murv gets fed.”

After the harrowing experience of the Flight Attendant from Hell, not to mention being up since 3AM and hanging out in airports, I was ready to relax when I arrived. Lolly hauled me off to their house, where they set me up in a guest room with my own private bath – complete with a huge faux fish tank and flamingos – see photos…

Then, once I was settled in her husband Doug began providing me with beer. Now, I already liked Doug to begin with. We had met during my previous trip and he’s a really great guy. But, now he was giving me beer. Therefore, we was instantly elevated to best friend status. That evening we had Beer Butt Chicken, Brisket, Baked Beans, and Cole Slaw. And, of course, more beer.

But, that was just the beginning…

The next morning, Lolly had to head off to the festival early to do setup. I wasn’t due there for a while, so I became Doug’s charge. Apparently he had been told not to feed me beer for breakfast, so we drove over to Joyce’s, where Butch, her husband, was tasked with preparing breakfast for Morrison and me. Upon entering the house it became obvious that all would be good. Not only was there coffee, but pepper bacon, sausage, biscuits, cantaloupe, sliced tomatoes, and even chocolate muffins; Butch was simply waiting for us to arrive so that he could find out what we wanted in our made to order omelets. Nope. Not kidding. See photographic evidence on the right…

So, after having a breakfast that simply couldn’t be beat, we were off to the festival itself. This is where things became a little crazy – if I was asked by one person, I was asked by thirty-five of them, “Murv, has Lolly fed you yet?” Well, as it happens, a young man with a menu had searched me out and taken my order, then delivered lunch right back into my hands. Therefore, I had been the recipient of an utterly fantastic Brisket Sammich with all the trimmings. Of course, as soon as I finished it I was asked by Joyce if Lolly had fed me yet. I told her “Nope,” to which she immediately went into a tizzy and told me she would see to it that I was fed. Unfortunately, Morrison stopped her and told her I was lying before I could get my hands on another sammich. Ahem… Curse you Dorothy Morrison… Of course, it was probably a good thing I didn’t get that second sandwich because that evening Butch and Joyce hosted us for dinner and we were treated to both Chicken Gumbo and “Sweep the Swamp Gumbo” (crawfish, shrimp, and alligator). And, I have to say it was probably even the best gumbo I’d ever eaten – maybe even better than any I’ve had in NOLA over the years – of course, Joyce is from Louisiana, so I don’t suppose I should be surprised.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. Once again, I was shuttled off to Butch and Joyce’s for breakfast. This time, in addition to all of the original fixin’s, Butch was preparing pancakes and fried eggs.

Now… I suppose you are wondering at this point why I have all of these pictures of said food items. Trust me, everyone there was wondering why I was pulling out my cell phone and snapping pictures.

Well, what’s a blog entry from me without a few pics, right? Besides, since there was this running joke, it was pretty much a moral imperative that I see to it there was photographic evidence of the chow.

And again, after another incredible breakfast, we were off to the store to do seminars and sign books. Near the end of my workshop, the door to the room slid open and a hand slipped through. It belonged to Lolly of all people, and in it was a dressed hot dog. It seems that after everyone else had seen to it I was fed, Lolly wanted to make up for having NOT fed me at the last event. And so, she has her own photographic evidence of having “fed the author”…

Yep, that’s MY hand in there grabbing the plate… I was hungry!

That evening, we were hustled off to Ernie’s, a local bar with utterly fantastic burgers. During all of this, whenever I would sign a book or simply be on my way to the restroom, people would ask me, “Murv, has Lolly fed you yet?”

I think maybe I put on elebenty-twelve pounds while I was there. But, I think we’ve finally answered the ages old question – How Many People Does It Take To Feed Murv?

Half the state of Texas, apparently…

More to come…

Murv