Elvis has left the building...

The (use your best Hispanic accent here…) “Car-ooosa” is no more.
The Landcruiser we affectionately called Elvis, got traded away today.

We were its second keepers, having bought it from our friend Scotty in Aspen almost 10 years ago.
No one can accuse the Baker’s of over consumerism, that’s for sure; this baby was a 1994.
And in it’s place, a 2007 Nissan Maxima.
We’re big believers in letting the other guy take that instant depreciation hit!

This picture makes me feel a little sad.
It’s the cruiser being driven away from us for the last time, with our new car in the background waiting to take its place.

Lots of good times were had in that truck, I wish I could count the laughs.
But I also remember moving to Texas and Aunt TC running along side it as we pulled away. She was just willing Jordie and Nick to stay behind; she didn't want to miss even one day of their growing up.
It’s also the truck that got us back to Kansas when her cancer came back.
And to countless doctors’ appointments too, I'm sure.

Most of our Sunday drives were taken in the cruiser.
Mikey’s propensity to find gravel roads in the middle of no-where made the decision on which vehicle of ours to take an easy one.
The Landcruiser was made for those rides; he’d often pull off road and 4-wheel to the kids delight.

It never left us stranded, never let us down.
These past couple of years in fact, we were probably less of a friend to it than it was to us.
I was less than gracious the few times Mike and I had to swap out cars for the day.
And Jordie… for being a 15 year old with a restricted license sure has some audacity to “refuse to be seen dead driving that thing”.
But I think when Mike’s boss bummed a ride to a meeting with him a few weeks ago Mikey finally realized this about the cruiser…

You ain’t nothin but a hound dog!

Rest in Peace Elvis.

Change has come to America...

Excerpt from today's inaugural speech:

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive ... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Thank you. God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.

No Wine-ing

I dislike January.
A dreadful month for several reasons, though none more aggravating than this.
Mikey stops drinking on January 1st every year.
He calls it the Noah’s Ark diet and got the idea from our friend Frank.

40 days and 40 nights… no drinky-poo’s.
His New Year’s Eve birthday wraps up a 2 month holiday season of excessive eating and drinking, and then he abruptly stops.

Mike doesn’t do it because he has to, or even because he wants to.
He does it just to make sure he can!
Not a bad idea…
Unless you live with him.

We were at a party last weekend and I actually overheard someone say “You’re an asshole when you don’t drink”.
Hmmmm… no one ever says that to me.

This year, in the spirit of solidarity, I too have given up the hooch.
Although only for the month of January.
31 days is plenty in my book.

I’m halfway home; it’s day seventeen.
A snowy Saturday evening here, we’re hunkered down after a great meal.
But something is missing…
The simple enjoyment of a nice dry red.

Man do I love February.

One Dumb Bird

I ran to the store this afternoon. Like most of the country we’re in single digit temperatures and that’s before figuring in the wind chill factor….Brrrrrr!
A big pot of White Chili seemed just the thing to warm our bodies and feed our souls.

It’s a simple recipe; I typically have everything in the pantry other than the chicken. A few small skinless, boneless breasts were all I was after.

Now granted, to hear Mikey tell it, I would rather have a tooth extracted without anesthesia than go to the grocery store. I’ve been known to break out in hives over the mere anticipation of going. Why is it by the way, that if you are all dressed, hair done, make-up on… you see no one? But the moment you run in un-showered, wearing your husband’s sweatpants and reeking of coffee breath, you see everyone in your rolodex! Every stinkin time!

Today was a “tweener”. Showered and in my own clothes, I kept my head down and focused on the chicken aisle hoping not to run into someone I know .

A quick glance at my choices, I grabbed the closest package with 3 pieces in it.
Not typically price conscious, I think most of us are paying a little more attention to what the tags say lately. Could it be 3 pieces of chicken costs almost 10 bucks these days? I checked the price per pound; $6.37… for chicken!!!

Free range (whatever that is) was my first thought.
Organic perhaps?
Nah… this chicken is way better than that.
It’s smart.
It’s so smart, (read the small print) it has an MBA!

Did it graduate from the University of Tyson?
Does it know “why” it crossed the road?
Did it score a 36 on the ACT (Acclaimed Chicken Test)?
What makes it so smart?

I don’t know the answers to any of those questions.
I just know the dumbass chicken was $2.49 per pound.

That white chili was damn good.
And I’m feeling smarter already!