BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I had pie this weekend. In fact, I had some seriously kick-a$$ pie this weekend.

Now, in case you are running to check your calendars, no, this was not “Pie Weekend” as designated by the TV Food Network, or even by me for that matter. I just happened to have some pie this weekend. Seriously kick-a$$ pie in case you didn’t catch that the first go around.

However, I suppose I should back up and flesh out the story a bit so that you don’t think I am merely bragging on the fact that I had some kick-a$$ pie this weekend. In point of fact, that is exactly what I am doing, but since I get paid to make up lies – hence the job title “Author” – I shall proceed to toss random words at this blog until I have obscured the fact that I am merely bragging on the pie. Rest assured, that if subliminal suggestion works as it should, while you will come away from this blog thinking it was about something else, you will definitely remember the pie. If it doesn’t work, well hell, you’ll remember the pie anyway, because that’s what this is really all about after all.

So anyway, there was this intimate little gathering here in St. Louis this past weekend. It took place at Tower Grove Park downtown. Like I said, it was small and intimate. Only about 12 gazillion people showed up. Yes, I’m talking about the 16th annual Pagan Picnic.

An event that started all those years ago as a group of Pagans meeting up in the park, progressed to a picnic lunch, and has now morphed into the single largest two day pagan/alternative spirituality festival in the Greater St. Louis area. I try to make it a point to attend each year if my schedule allows, and they always do me up a nice spot in the shade where I can sign books, chat with folks, and even hold a workshop or two. It’s a blast each and every time I go. Just to give you an idea about how much fun this thing is, this year’s guest speakers included Moi, Dorothy Morrison, Mickie Mueller, River Higginbotham (his partner, the lovely Joyce was out of town, unfortunately), Tish Owen, Terry Hinkle, Mike Nichols, Wendy Martin, Don Lewis, and Ellen Dugan, so there was definitely a full ticket. In addition there were musical guests and about a million vendors of all things fine, wonderful, pretty, shiny, funny, wearable, and even edible (no, not wearable and edible like, well, you know, those edible ummm, well… Anyhow, you know what I mean. You could buy a t-shirt, or some meat on a stick. Best 12 inches you’ll ever have… Oh my, this is just getting worse.. Ummm… Back to the pie I think…Damn, that could be taken out of context too… Well, stop it. Get your minds out of the gutter and read along.)

So, back to the G-rated version…The only drawback with the picnic this year was the heat. It was just plain hot, muggy, and whenever there was a breeze, it was also hot and muggy. Plus, it would try to pick up our canopy and make it fly away, but that’s another story. (A legendary story in fact… One they call “Hang Gliding Pagan Authors,” but I’ll let someone else tell that…) Anyway, just to be on the safe side, I have already put in my suggestion for next year to be cooler. I’m sincerely hoping that the organizers manage to talk the parks department into installing air conditioning and sofas before the next picnic. You know, the kind of sofas with the recliner and built in cooler for icy beverages. I could be all about that. Especially if it had pie. (Thought I’d forgotten about the pie didn’t you?)

So…Anyway…Saturday night was what my dear friend “Anastasia the Language Bitch” has officially declared the “Murvmoot”. That being the BBQ and Party at Murv’s house… You know, My house… (BTW, I just officially declared her the language bitch since she speaks like forty gazillion of them, but she doesn’t know about this yet… Imagine her surprise when she finds out her new nickname. Shhhhh… Don’t tell her. I want it to be a surprise… BTW – let me be clear on this, Anastasia is NOT a bitch. It’s a nickname…all in fun…that sort of thing… you know…)

So, on with the double talking -pie- Since we had several out of town guests, including Dorothy Morrison and Tish Owen, -pie- we were set to party. Anastasia and Mike came over, as well as my publicist and bud “Chunkee.” World reknowned artist, Johnathan Minton and his S.O. were in attendance, as well as Patrick Owen, Tobacconist Extraordinaire, and the high exalted poobah of Paganism, Reverend Duane Marhsall and his squeeze, Officer Jackie (Don’t ask. She has a badge and she knows how to use it.)

The evening was ever the blast with much alcohol consumed, followed by many pork steaks, much smoked turkey, cole slaw, tater salad, baked beans, and all the other trimmin’s tossed in there as well. This, of course, was followed by much more alcohol… (No, I didn’t forget….)

Anywho, one of the guests not mentioned above (because he is getting the special mention HERE) happened to be a dear friend and co-founder of the “Murv’s Stalkers” (Yes, that is what they call my official fan club. Yeah. Not kidding. If you are interested in joining, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with them. Or, maybe one of them will put a comment under here with a link or something…) So, to continue… Meester Seitzenheimer (aka just about anything you want to call him) brought along with him a couple of homemade Key lime pies.

He was not aware that Key lime pie is one of my absolute all time favorites.

He is now.

Therefore, I had some seriously kick-a$$ pie this weekend. And, you know what’s even better? The leftovers stayed here. Guess what? I’m gonna go have some more kick-a$$ pie.

See… I told you it was all about the pie.

More to come…

Murv

There are times when it seriously sucks to be the Dad.

I suppose I should back up just a bit and give you some background as to why I make that statement, because I suspect most of you know I am all about my kid. So, let me fill you in…

Some of you may or may not be aware that the animals in my novels – those being the two dogs and the three cats who share the abode with the main characters, Rowan and Felicity – are actually based on my own four-legged cohabitators. The dogs, as I have mentioned in the past, have since gone on to the other side, but they still live on in my books. So too, do the felines in many senses, as they are composites of the numerous cats we have rescued over the years. Emily – the cats in the novels are named Emily (Dickinson), Dickens (Charles), and Salinger (J.D.), go figure – is based on the real life felines, Data and Buffer, both calicos like their fictional composite. Data left us last year, peacefully, in her sleep. She was something on the order of a million years old… Well, around 18+ years to be a little more exact, but for a cat, that’s a fair piece of time. Buffer, however, was still around – until this weekend.

Buffer was only 14, but that is still a good lifetime for a feline. To be honest, where I come from, farm cats rarely made it past 5 or 6 years, but I digress as usual. The especially bad part about losing Buffer this weekend is that she went outside and got into an altercation with a vehicle.

The vehicle won.

EK and the Spawn were out shopping, which was fortunate, because I was the one who found her instead of them. As you can guess, when you are talking Feline vs. Auto, the results aren’t very pretty.

So, I found her… And, I got to be the one who cleaned up the remains, dug the hole, tried to convince my wife that the animal hadn’t suffered – though I really couldn’t know that for sure – and help console an 8 year old who misses her friend. Then, I got to toss and turn that night because the image of the aftermath played back for me each time I closed my eyes. And, you know, as it happens I miss the cat too. But, I have to be the strong one.

Hence, why it sometimes sucks to be the Dad, especially when a shovel an a shoebox are involved…

(sigh)

I suppose I should try to end this on a slightly cheerier note, so here goes…

Speaking of pets, I’m sure most everyone is aware of the latest Myspace rage, that being purchasing and selling your friends as “human pets”. Well, it seems I was purchased by an old friend, and she has since sold me… Since then I have been gifted, traded, and sold all over the place. But, just so all the bases are covered, I’ll mention here that if you purchase me, unlike Morrison, I am housebroken and fairly low maintenance.

BTW, I really like Pizza and beer, but I don’t do tricks. Well, I do, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…

More to come…

Murv