Southern cookin’, Jack White, and treasures found in a septic tank

Just returned from a two-week trip to South Carolina.  I have yet to remove the stretchy pants from my waist.  People have their opinions on food, this type of cooking, that type of cooking, but it wasn’t until I tasted cookin’ from the South that I realized what cooking with passion meant.  I miss being around it all the time.

I love watching my wife cook.  When we were dating she would cook for us night after night.  I would continually thank her for being so nice, that she didn’t have to cook all the time, but she would always look at me and say, “It’s not a burden, it’s my joy.”

People can keep their pretentious restaurants and foods cooked more to impress than to feed. I’ll take food prepared with a bit of humble passion any day.  If you get a chance to taste some food prepared by my friend, I bet you’ll be convinced of the same.  Sure, I’m biased, but I may also be right.

I miss the manners of the South.  It’s nice to be around people from 8 to 88 who say “ma’am” and “sir” as a standard way of speaking to someone, not the exception.  In such a self-serving time in which we live, it is a nice language to be around.

We spent the majority of our stay at the lake house of my in-laws.  It’s a great spot. There was plenty of great food, hence the stretchy pants which I am wearing at this moment (don’t judge me), and plenty of opportunity to zone out.  The highlight, or lowlight, or eyebrowflaminglight, was when I saw a full septic tank for the first time.  How would I describe it?

We interrupt this regularly scheduled read to bring you this very important message……Please walk away from your computer if you are squeamish.  Grab the mouse, use the little scroll down thingy, now take it for a spin……….no seriously, do it.  You probably need to give it a spin of 40% power in order to avoid the following paragraph.

When the dirt was done dug, and the top was done lopped, it looked like really, really melted down (Okay.  I’ve never done this.  This is future writer going back in time to delete what I originally wrote.  I decided that I just can’t do it to you.  I just can’t describe it.  Those of you who read the original post/description?  What can I tell you?  I was a much different person six hours ago.  Life has changed me.  Just think of something gross and use a five multiplier and you’re close.  If you would like to know what I originally wrote, drop me a line.  Okay.  Future writer is gone.)  Why did I just tell you that?  I have no idea.  The smell cleared Nikki off the porch in 4.2531 seconds.  I was impressed she made it that long.  She hurdled two chairs to get to the door.  “That’s my girl.”  Who’s up for a Pudding Pop?  Moving on…..

We stopped in Nashville on our way back to St. Louie……..

We were on a mission.  We scoped out Third Man Records.  (Owned and operated by Jack White.  The building houses a storefront, rehearsal stage, recording studio, dark room, etc..  Mr. White is a musician who is definately more than The White Stripes.  If you are a musician, you need to read up on his passion for music.  You may dislike his music, but you will love his love for music and where it came from.)


We walked up to the front door.  (There on the left)  Rang the door bell.  Over the intercom a voice said, “Hello, come on in.”  Okee dokee.  Walked into a 15 X 15 ft. room full of vinyl, merchandise, and a wall of which behind was hopefully one, Mr. White.  Hey, the dude signed a girl to a recording contract he heard singing in a Kentucky hardware store, so anything is possible.

Didn’t meet him, but Nikki burped quietly during our stay, so our aura lingers.  Our aura lingers.

We have an interest in all things Jack White.  Why?  His music?  Yeah.  We still reminisce about The Dead Weather coming to St. Louis.  Top 5 concert out of 300+ attended.  So yeah, the music.

But when it comes down to it, that’s really not it.  What is it?  Mr. White has a passion for kids today to be introduced to vinyl records.  Kids, if you’re listening, mp3’s sound awful.  The generation coming up have never heard music how it was meant to be heard.  The purest form, other than live, is vinyl.  CD’s are good, better than mp3’s, but it sounds “tingy” or “thin” compared to vinyl.  Do you know you don’t need speakers to hear a record play?  Give it a needle and off you go.  It’s completely organic and pure when it comes to sound.

I’ll stop there.  Maybe I’ll write another day on the top 10 reasons to give vinyl a try.  The point is, we have traded quality for convenience.  As Mr. White says, “Digital isn’t better, it’s just easier.”  We have traded better sound, for better portability.  Portability isn’t bad.  Convenience isn’t bad.  But they were never meant to close the deal on giving up what is ultimately superior.

Cooking with passion or a microwave.  “Ma’am” and “Sir”, or “Me” and “Mine”.   Hmph.

Onward,,,,,

We stayed at a great hotel in Nashville.  Rated top 10% in the city and one of the cheapest.  Had a breakfast buffet and appetizers at 5pm.

Something must have happened to me as a child.  I didn’t believe in Santa Claus.  I believed in the Tooth Fairy. I took popcorn to school for lunch.  I tried to get into the Guinness Book of World Records by jumping on my bed for half a day.  I don’t know.  Another day maybe.

The breakfast buffet reminded us of our honeymoon.  Days Inn.  Asheville. Breakfast buffet.  Standing water in our shower for the length of our stay.  Aaaahh the memories. Been livin’ on love ever since.  When our marriage needs some spice I’ll stop up the tub in order to create standing water.  Flowers?  Yeah right.  Chocolates?  Please.  A bottle of Draino?  Consider the marriage spiced.

As the Storm Trooper said to Obi-Wan and the gang, “Move along.  Move along.”

Please don’t tell my parents, but as we were driving around Nashville my bestest friend in all the land said, “Hey, it’s a Dukes of Hazzard museum.  That’s great.  We should go in.” I made a hard right turn into the parking lot and made a straight line through the front door.  I did not hesitate.  I have a magnet and guitar pick for proof.

Full Disclosure: I wasn’t allowed to watch the Dukes as a child.  I was told the show made police officers look like dopes.  My parents wanted me and my brothers to have a healthy view and respect for the law.  Sooooooo……..don’t tell my mommy.

We went next door to the Willie Nelson Museum.  I know, I know, you’re thinking…. “Wow!  Wherever you were, it sure sounds like paradise.”  Well, to top off our trifecta we drove about 10 car lengths to Cracker Barrel for dinner.  So there.  If you’re gonna go, go all in.  And to top off the evening we ordered dessert.  Yup.  Pudding Pops.  I bid you a good evening.

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