BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…And an E…BOOZE RUN!

Okay, so I’m not so good with songs, but that was the best I could do with the word booze since the song BEER RUN was going through my head.

Now, in reality I had intended to blog about Jane (aka The Bitch in the Box), because yes, I really do think Jane is kinda hot. Even if she is simply a box of electronic components with a sexy voice that sits on the dashboard and barks orders. (turn here, turn there, take the motorway, etc…)

But, Morrison beat me to it. Go figure. (But, what with Morrison getting on in years and not really being quick on the draw, I guess I should just let her have that one and call it good ) If you want to read about it, go here: Bitch In The Box.

So…Anyway, back to the Booze thing. What I am about to tell you is a little known secret about Morrison. She’s a bootlegger. Well, actually, I don’t suppose she’s a bootlegger in the strictest sense, but that’s what I like to call her. Why? Because it’s fun to pick on Morrison.

Anyhow, here’s the deal. New Hampshire has no sales tax. They also sell their booze in State owned and operated, discount liquor stores. So, wine and spirits are much cheaper there than in most other places throughout the US. Anywhere from a few bucks to even 20 bucks per bottle, depending on what you are buying.

So…Whenever we are on tour through New England, and have a need to pass through New Hampshire, or near New Hampshire, or within some secretly prescribed spitting distance radius (to which I am not privy) around New Hampshire, we go liquor shopping.

Not for just a couple of bottles, mind you.

Morrison fills a suitcase.

A big suitcase.

Really.

There have even been threats of leaving me and my luggage on the side of the road in order to fit the bounty into the vehicle.

I’m serious.

Now, lest you think wrongly and assume I am telling you Morrison is a drunk, let me dispel that. Morrison rarely drinks. I’ve known her for years and have seen her take maybe three drinks that entire time. She’s just not a drinker. No kidding.

Smoker? Well, that’s another story entirely, but she already lives in a place where cigarettes are cheap…And, of course, there is always the coffee.

(Yes, folks, that is REALLY just coffee in that cup…I know it for a fact. I’ve made enough of it for her when she’s stayed with us…Hell, I even have a 2 burner, 3 minute Bunn™ that I keep going at all times when she is here. Note, that when she is staying with us is the only time that piece of equipment actually sees action. We affectionately call it “The Morrison”. as in, “Hey, did you get The Morrison out of the basement? Morrison is gonna be here any minute,” and “Hold on while I fire up The Morrison. If she wakes up and there’s no coffee we’re all gonna get killed.”)

So, nope, Morrison is definitely not a drunk. But, she still fills a suitcase with assorted bottles of booze. You see, whenever we are going to be within the secret spitting distance of New Hampshire, Morrison’s husband and friends make out a list, check it twice, and then send her on a mission to return with good booze at discount prices. So ritualistic is this practice that I have now been on three separate “booze runs” with Morrison. It’s a good thing the folks in New Hampshire put several of these liquor stores right out on the highway near the state line. You almost have to wonder if they are doing that just to lure folks in.

Anyway, this tour we did a booze run. As usual, while Morrison was in the parking lot tossing things everywhere in order to fill the suitcase, I stood by with my diminutive personal stash– a bottle for me, and a nice bottle of Scotch as a gift for my wife.

Now, here’s the sad part of the story. And, it actually has nothing to do with Morrison, as amazing as that may seem.

I flew home on Saturday (6/2)…I had left behind my open bottle at Morrison’s place because I drink enough of their booze when I am on the road with her that I am sure I owed them at least that. Probably more. Unfortunately, I was so wiped out from the 15 days on the road, (yes, from the time on the road, not from the drinking) that by the time Saturday rolled around, my brain was firing on only one cylinder and it had a bent valve at that.

Yes…Without thinking, I put my wife’s gift– a rather expensive (even by New Hampshire discount standards) bottle of 16 year old, French Oak Cask Aged, Reserve, Glenlivet Single Malt Scotch– into my carry-on. I know better than this. I have logged more hours in the air than some flight attendants, so I know what I can and cannot take in a carry-on.

But, I did it anyway…Like I said, without thinking. Most likely because my brain simply wasn’t up to thinking.

So…At Dulles International airport, there is now a TSA official with a very nice bottle of Scotch. They told me they were going to throw it away, but I argued with them about that, insisting that at least ONE of them HAD to be a Scotch drinker, and that if they were going to confiscate it anyway, they needed to do me the kindness of keeping it as a gift, with my compliments, and raising a glass to me as they enjoyed it.

I’ll admit, it was my mistake stuffing it into the wrong suitcase…This certainly qualifies me for the idiot of the year award…

…But, if those TSA folks threw that bottle of Scotch in the trash, then I think I am in no danger of winning, because that would make them bigger idiots that me.

More to come…

Murv

Okay, so this blog isn’t going to be about Firefly or Serenity, but I am a fan and I love that line…Plus, Wacky Fun was definitely had…

Yesterday (Sat. 1/27/07) I drove out to Columbia, Missouri. For those of you not familiar with this Midwestern parcel of dirt, Columbia is right around the middle of the “show me” state. It is a college town, built up around the University of Missouri, Columbia. (One of the finest Journalism schools in the country, among other subjects)…Anyhow, it is also home to a thriving pagan community and an annual wintertime gathering known as “Magickal Hibernation” sponsored, put together, organized, and otherwise presented by Ozark Avalon. This was my third year as a guest speaker at this event, and as always it was a great time. While the gathering isn’t huge by any means, there is a respectable attendance. They set up at a local hotel where a ballroom is set aside for vendors and conference rooms are set aside for workshops and a hospitality suite. Registration is positioned in the lobby, and everyone from the con staff right down to the attendees are wonderful, friendly, and a joy to hang out with.

This year, Author Ellen Dugan, Artist Mickie Mueller, and Author Mike Nichols were headlining the event as well, so we all presented workshops on everything ranging from Wicca’s Wonder Years (a witchcraft and pop culture seminar by Mike) to Spells for Love (Ellen), as well as  Magical Body Art (Mickie) to Magick in the Trenches: No Fluff, No Sparkle, Just Results (yours truly)… But, enough about them…this is all about me! (Just kidding…sort of…It IS all about ME, but believe me, the above listed are all good friends, colleagues, and wonderful folks; each of them. And, I love them all dearly.)

But, back to me …

I presented two workshops, the above listed as well as the Unconscious Magick workshop which has now been made available on Youtube (watch it via the link above). Both were well attended, but the Magick in the Trenches seminar definitely ended up being a full house. I wasn’t sure what to expect because this particular workshop is somewhat controversial, and when Dorothy Morrison and I have done it in tandem we have actually upset a few individuals with our view on “no fluff, no sparkle”…However, I was met with a wonderfully open minded and curious crowd. We discussed various aspects of magick, and I even enlightened the group on a few things. (Something tells me a few folks are probably going to be visiting cemeteries and asking ancestors to borrow a bit of dirt in the near future…If you don’t know what I mean by that you need to see the workshop!)

So, anyway, in addition to getting to hang out with great folks, wear my voice out trying to talk over a band that was playing next to the workshop area, and getting my picture taken with THE Smokin’ Hottie Babe of the Pagan Art World (Mickie), I also had another bizarre and wonderful experience…What was that you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.

Two long time fans, one of whom I had met at a past booksigning, and another with whom I had only corresponded via email, were in attendance. Now, these two folks are insane, I have to tell you. But, they are insane in a good way (read: same kind of general insanity from which I also suffer…) They had warned me that they would be there and that they had a surprise in store. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect out of these two, as I had yet to discover just exactly how wacky they really are. Fortunately for me, the surprise didn’t involve the plot of Stephen King’s Misery.

However, these two wingnuts DID come dressed as stalkers…How did they do that, you ask? Well, just check out the picture below….

Left to right: Johnny “Force Majeure”, me, and Tasialue

So, as you can see, not only did these two nutcases come dressed as stalkers, but they also presented me with my own sweatshirt which readily identified me as the object of their stalking…

Like I said… Wacky Fun!

Now, I have to get back to writing, so till the next time!

MR