hazelnut/cinnamon/mocha/wimparoon

I don't care what anyone says: They don't come any cooler than Freddy Fender.

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THEBOY was playing with his Leap Pad the other night. exploring the new Toy Story 2 book we got him. One part is a maze, and the book gives him clues on how to move.

At one point, the Leap Pad said, "Good. Now move ahead two spaces."

And THEBOY said, "Where's the head?"

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Tired of all the hazelnut/cinnamon/mocha/wimparoon coffee that's been served up here this week, I bought two new bags of something at Albertson's yesterday, a twofer deal. I forget the brand... Aromatic maybe? From Santa Fe.

I made a pot of something called Organic Black Lightning.

And it tastes like engine de-greaser.

Crap. Bring back the wimparoon.

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I don't care what anyone says: They don't come any cooler than Dr. John

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Ever wonder what Bill Rebane, director of The Giant Spider Invasion, is up to these days?

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Been on one of my periodic Mystery Science Theater 3000 benders again. That is, I'm dubbing my VHS tapes to DVD. Some titles lately: Hercules vs. the Moon Men, The Sinister Urge, The Magic Sword, Robot vs. the Aztec Mummy, Gamera vs. Barugon, the Sidehackers, and Stranded in Space. I don't get to watch them per se since I'm always running around with kid stuff or doing homework. I just have the dubs going in the background. There's plenty of stuff I've forgotten, and it always seems like there's a new laugh to be had.

Last night, for example, I stopped down briefly to catch a scene from The Sinister Urge. A guy kills a girl in a pond, and as the ducks swim by Crow gives them dialogue: "Quack! Didn't see a thing!"

Ha!

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Dad got me a really cool Navajo tomahawk (yes, this image is exactly like mine). Our family's Cherokee/Choctaw heritage is something I'm fiercely proud of (and I'd like to thank both tribes for this skin that doesn't burn very easily). I came close to officially joining the Cherokees several years back, actually becoming a member of the tribe. We qualify, and the paper trail, which consists of birth certificates and death certificates linking us to someone on an official roll like the Dawes list, is pretty easy to produce.

But I hesitated. I'm hesitating still, I guess. I attended a few pow wows back in the day, and enjoyed the experience. But I just saw a few too many blonde haired/blue eyed fancy dancers. I know, I know... if I'm qualified by the tribe's own guidelines, I should sign up, right?

It just felt sort of empty. I'm not an Indian. I'm a guy with a nice dose of Indian blood, and that's a distinction I just can't get past. You know what a cultural nerd I am: I love the fact that once in a while a Mexican addresses me in Spanish first.

But I'm also a blend of a lot of stuff. Cajun, Dutch... and I think it just makes me an average cracker.

Maybe someday I'll get past my "white man's guilt" and do it.

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The tomahawk is quite a nice piece though. I've given this thing a really good once over, and there's a ton of detail and craftsmanship there. It's no tourist trinket, that's for sure. There's this beadwork on the handle that just blows my mind. No idea how they did that.

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There's a story in the family that my great grandmother, Luella, was offered a land grant in Oklahoma as part of gov't reparations back around the turn of the 19th/20th century. The family checked out the land, which was deemed "too poor to grow peas on." They declined.

It later became one of the best-producing oil fields in the state.

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Kelli has been accepted to grad school at SMU!! Reading the acceptance letter to her over the phone yesterday was one of the highlights of my week.

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Current music: "Still Dream" by Varnaline. Yeah, I do, I do.