It’s raining, it’s pouring… well, not quite pouring, but it is raining and it is cold out – so rather than run the errands I had assigned myself, I find myself sitting in my nice warm office thinking deep (and not so deep) thoughts.

This has forced me into a conclusion (besides acknowledging that I am being a weather wimp):  It’s amazing the places the human mind will wander when you’re not using it for other, more productive purposes…  places like:

The “What’s Up With That?” Department:

• You ever notice that the people who complain when it rains, are the same ones who complain when the government imposes water restrictions because it didn’t rain enough?

• Do people think they are cutting back on light pollution by not using their turn signals?

• There are some bicyclists who like to ride in traffic lanes… I wonder how they’d feel if cars drove in bike lanes?

• Why do people slow down on the freeway when they see a cop writing somebody a ticket?

• Does anyone out there know anyone who lives with a bunch of other people on a desert island, participating in various contests of skill and endurance while developing alliances and/or stabbing each other in the back?  Or, how about knowing someone who travels the world while being asked to navigate through often-times bizarre situations, all the time searching for clues that will tell them the next place they have to go?  I don’t either… so why do you suppose they call things like Survivor or The Amazing Race “reality shows”?

Or, how about some plain, old fashioned Random Thoughts:

• Am I the only one who thought it ironic to see one of those “Caution: Baby On Board” signs in the back window of a car whose driver was talking on a cell phone?

• We’re within days of hearing those lovely words that all baseball fans can’t wait to hear every year: “pitchers and catchers report”. (YES!!!)

• Speaking of baseball… Vin Scully, the announcer for the Los Angeles Dodgers, is about to start his 63^rd year of announcing Dodger games.  To put that into perspective, that means there are people who are retiring this year, who were born the year he called his first game for the team.

• More Vin Scully – he is such an icon in LA that many Dodger fans listen to his calls of a game while actually sitting in the stadium watching it… and have been known not to cheer or boo an umpire’s call until Scully announced what that call was.

• There are so many awards show on TV these days: the Academy Awards, The Emmy’s, the Grammys, the Tony’s, the People’s Choice Awards, the Academy of Country Music Awards, the MTV Awards, the ESPYs, … and on and on and on.  So, how long do you think it will be before we have an awards show honoring awards shows?

You know, it’s times like this that I wonder if this is how the late, great comedian George Carlin came up with such classic lines as, “Why do we drive on a parkway, but park on a driveway?”

Well, since it’s still raining and blustery out, I think I’ll go nibble on some of our CrispRoot Cassava Chips, and ponder about that for awhile.

Guys, a heads up.  Next Tuesday is Valentine’s Day.  Three words of advice:  Do. Not. Forget.  

I’ve often wondered what’s up with Valentine’s Day.  Maybe women are just more romantic, but face it, Valentine’s Day is the third of the Unholy Trinity of Days a Guy Better Not Forget.  (The first two are your wife’s / significant other’s birthday, and the second being your anniversary – wedding, or of the day you met.)

Many times  I’ve thought Valentine’s Day was the invention of greeting card companies, preying upon women’s romanticism and the occasional cluelessness of guys….. but it existed long before greetings cards.

Actually, Valentine’s Day was originally called Saint Valentine’s Day, and was named for either two or three early Christian martyrs during the Middle Ages.  Somehow, that morphed into what we celebrate today with the buying of greeting cards, expensive boxes of chocolate, and going out to outrageously priced dinners.  I suspect this may be why Pope Paul VI removed Valentine’s Day from the General Roman Calendar of Saints back in 1969, though the Catholic Church sites other reasons.

And then there’s Cupid….. what’s that all about?  C’mon – a chubby cherub with wings, flying around with a bow and arrow, shooting poor unsuspecting slobs and making them fall in love – thus making them liable to remember Valentine’s Day forever or face the consequences?  (Well, supposedly he shoots girls as well – but I have yet to meet a girl who has ever, not even once, forgotten Valentine’s Day.)

Originally, Cupid was neither chubby nor a cherub, but a Roman god.  Though there are conflicting reports, he’s usually considered to be the son of Venus….. and here the plot thickens.  Apparently there was a popular (and probably hot) young princess named Psyche, who made the mistake of detracting attention from Venus.  Oops.  So, Venus ordered Cupid to shoot Psyche with one of his infernal arrows, the intention being to make her fall in love with some vile, hideous guy.  Unfortunately, Cupid didn’t practice safe archery.  He cut himself with his own arrow and thus fell in love with Psyche….. which didn’t win him or her any points with Venus.  (who said soap operas were a 20^th Century invention?)

Long story short, Psyche eventually ticked off Cupid, who left her.  This made Psyche get all remorseful, and she dedicated her life to tracking him down (Today, we call this “stalking”).  After awhile Jupiter, the head of the gods, felt sorry for her.  He made her immortal, and helped patch things up between her and Cupid.  The reunited lovebirds then went on to have a daughter named Voluptas….. who I think went on to become a star in the WWE (but I could be wrong).

However, all this still leaves the question of how a Greek god came to be portrayed as a pudgy little kid.  I’m not sure, but it might have to do with the fact that Cupid the adult is almost always portrayed naked….. which wouldn’t exactly do for the cover of most greeting cards or party decorations.

Oh, and one other question remains: just how did Saint Valentine and Cupid come from their distinctly different pasts to find themselves indelibly tied to a day known for melting most guys’ credit cards?

OK, maybe it’s not as bad for guys as I’m painting it – but I’ve heard enough stories to be able to tell you I’m not making it all up, either.  On the other hand, I do wish to be fair.  So, what’s the feminine take on all this?  C’mon, ladies, weigh in here.  Tell us what you do if Valentine’s Day gets forgotten….. forgive, extract a penalty, or both?  Or, thinking positive, go the other way and tell us about your favorite Valentine’s Day ever.

Put up a post and let us know!  (trust me – most guys will appreciate the pointers!)

Annnnnd here we go.  It’s time for America’s biggest party, and no, I’m not late in writing about New Year’s Eve in Times Square.  This Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday – so let the revelry commence!

It has become a tradition that the first Sunday in February, with the exception of sports bars and Las Vegas casinos, America pretty much grinds to a halt.  It’s a pretty good guess that well over half the country watches the SuperBowl, and half of the remaining half doesn’t necessarily watch the game, but they go to the parties anyway.

The game has created all sort of traditions… like where you choose to go every year to watch, eat, drink, and party.   And then, how about Vegas?  The SuperBowl has generated a business model for Vegas all its own… the tradition of the side bet.

You can bet on things like whether the coin flip come up heads or tails, or whether the first play will be a run or a pass.  I think they even take bets on the over / under of the length of the singing of the National Anthem.  For all I know, they may even take bets on which team’s cheerleaders will get the first TV close up.

And gambling on the game isn’t reserved for the hallowed halls of Vegas, not by a long shot.  Don’t forget the requisite football pool, where everyone at the party picks individual squares for a buck or two apiece.  Yup, this is the game where people who have zero clue about football routinely win lots of money, and the arm-chair experts get bupkis because the numbers involved are assigned at random.  The other fun thing to watch is when fans suddenly turn on the team they’re rooting for, because if the scores changes, they’ll lose out on $50 in the pool.

Alright, enough with the gambling.  How about food traditions?  C’mon – everyone has a killer dish they bring out for special occasions.  You know what I’m talking about, the kind of thing that takes hours to make, then when someone asks you for the recipe, you go all Top Gun on them:“I can tell you, but then I’d have to kill you”?  (Mine is my HazMat Chili.  I’d tell you how to make it, but… well, you know the rest.)

And then there’s the drinking.  It seems no self respecting Super Bowl Party would be without cooler upon cooler of liquid refreshment… water, soda, beer, or all of the above.  When it comes to Super Bowl Sunday and liquid refreshment, two things are sure (well, three if you include the need to appoint a designated river, which you should!).  First, I think it’s safe to say that more liquid is consumed in this country on this one day than on any other day of the year – which leads directly to…

The Super Flush.  It has long been an urban legend that the water pressure in the nation would plunge to near zero, and reservoirs would be in danger of being sucked dry by the sheer number of toilets being flushed at half time.  But, since neither has ever happened, I don’t think they quite have a handle on the exact amount of water used just yet.  (Get it?  Handle, flushing…?  Oh, never mind.  Back to our blog!)

Yup – food, drinks, a lot of fun & revelry with your friends… and oh yeah, there’s a game on the tube, too.  Sounds like a party to me.  So, where will YOU be this Sunday, and what secret recipe will you break out?  Put up a post and tell us all about it – extra points if you can work CrispRoot chips into the story!

Imagine my confusion.  What the man said was, “Get a smart phone”.  What I thought he said was, “‘Get Smart’ Phone”. 

Granted, what I heard was probably a direct result of my being a member of the ‘60’s Television Generation…  but I had a clear image of Maxwell Smart’s secret agent’s phone hidden in his shoe.  C’mon…  if you say “Get Smart Phone” or “shoe phone” to anyone over a certain age, they’ll instantly recall Siegfried, the head KAOS bad guy, pointing out to Max in mid-confrontation, “your shoe is ringing”… and Max would dutifully take off his shoe and answer the phone.

My wife has complained many times that we were hosed, that we were promised back in grade school that flying cars would be along by the early 21^st Century, and that it hasn’t happened.  Not me.  I want to know why the Shoe Phone hasn’t been developed.

Oh, the advantages it would have.  No more losing your cell phone, leaving it behind on an airplane or in a restaurant.  Aside from the beach or the pool, wherever you go, your phone goes… and you don’t even have to think about it.

Ever hear the warnings, “don’t leave your smart phone in your car, someone will break in and steal it”?  With a Shoe Phone, this wouldn’t be a problem.  In fact, taking it a step further, you’d never have to worry about someone stealing your Shoe Phone no matter where you left it… who in their right mind would pick up a stinky, smelly old shoe and steal it?

What about the fashion possibilities?  People are constantly putting fancy, colorful skins on their smart phones, or on the cases they put on their smart phones.  Why?  Because they want to personalize their phone, and make it a fashion accessory of sorts.  No need to bother with that step with a Shoe Phone.  You could get your Shoe Phone in anything from wing tips to tennis shoes, flats to espadrilles.

“Wait”, you complain, “then I’d always have to wear the same pair of shoes.”  No, not really.  Every pair of shoes would be a Shoe Phone, and all you’d have to do is swap out the sim card.  Plus, if every shoe was a shoe phone, then no one would ever want to steal one (even if they could put up with the stink).

For that matter, for even more convenience, they could build programmable sim cards into your socks.  That way, you wouldn’t even have to remember to swap out cards from Shoe Phone to Shoe Phone.

Selling these things would not be a problem.  Think about the marketing tie-ins from people who do shoe endorsements.  Can’t you just see the Air JorDroid phone?  Or what about the hordes of consumers who would wait in line for days to snap up Apple’s new i-Ped phone?

OK, OK.  Maybe a Shoe Phone is an idea whose time has not come.  But, you know, if nothing else?  A Shoe Phone would be a natural for anyone who constantly says the wrong thing at the wrong time.  I mean, they always seem to have their foot in their mouth anyways, don’t they?

OK, it’s mid-winter… with large parts of the country under several feet of snow.  For those who like physical activity, this means football, baseball, golf, and outdoor hoops are probably out -unless you change the rules significantly, anyway.  But, that doesn’t mean you’re not without some sporting choices…

Before we get into this, a disclaimer:  I have lived 90% of my life in Southern California, where snow is something you go visit for a few days, and then you leave and go to the beach.  Ice is fine – we put ice cubes in drinks.  Skating rinks?  Hey, we have a few of those…but this being SoCal, many of them are in malls. So, being as a college professor once advised me to “write what you know”, this week’s blog will be written from a warm weather, sunshine loving perspective.  (and just for the record – I do know how to make a pretty mean snowball.)

So, where to start?  I know… Hockey!  I know hockey.  I even like hockey.  Basically, it’s a lot like soccer, just more interesting.  When guys say they’re hurt in soccer, they’re faking it to draw a yellow card.  In hockey, guys can have blood all over their face and two teeth lying on the ice, but they don’t want to come out of the game.  But, it’s not just blood, guts , and fighting.  There’s passing and checking and slap shots and one timers… fun, exciting stuff.  (But on the other hand, the bumper sticker does say, “Give Blood – Play Hockey!”)

How about skiing?  Lots of people love to go skiing.  Even a lot of Southern Californians love to go skiing – it’s part of our winter “go visit the snow, then come home and go to the beach” routine.  Crisp mountain air, fine white powder, and the exhilaration of hurtling down a mountain.  OK, I get it… but if I may use my best Yoda impersonation, for me, it’s not.  Why in the world would I want to strap two boards to my feet, then shoot myself down a steep mountain full of large rocks and big trees – and the only thing I have to fend them off with is two pointed sticks?

Snowboarding?  OK, instead of two boards strapped to my feet, I’m locked on to a skateboard without the wheels.  I have to admit, it looks more fun than skiing – for one, I know how to skateboard (or at least, I used to).  Plus, there’s no worry of doing the splits in a most painful manner.  But once again, it’s all about going really fast down a steep mountain, dodging huge rocks and big trees – and this time, you don’t even have those pointed stick thingies to help fend them off.

OK, ice skating.  And no, I don’t mean the kind with the fancy outfits full of sequins, where they do things called “triple toe loops” (which to me has always sounded like something a punk rocker wore, back in the day).  No, I mean the kind where you rent skates, then step gingerly onto the ice… where you spend equal amounts of effort trying to move forward while trying not to fall down.  Sounds like fun – for about five minutes.

And this brings me to my favorite winter sport, SoCal style (except maybe for watching a good hockey game, anyway).  I say, if you have to go to the snow, stay in the lodge, get a seat by the fire, have some hot buttered rum (and maybe a bag of CrispRoot chips)…. and watch all that other chaos going on outside the window!  Now, that’s “must see TV”!!!

The holidays and all the traditions they bring are over… the days are getting longer – fractionally, maybe, but longer nonetheless.  Suddenly, as happens every year, a new year is upon us.  This provides a time both to look back and look ahead, and to fill you head with assorted random thoughts such as…

Is it just me, or are New Year’s Resolutions something mothers invented to guilt you into better behavior, even long after you’re an adult?  I mean, c’mon…  how many times can you resolve to lose weight?  To get more exercise?  To finally clean out the garage?

Has anyone realized that if New Year’s resolutions were actually kept, gyms would go out of business?  Think about it – every year people resolve to use the gym membership they just talked themselves into…  maybe to lose weight, maybe to get ready for that reunion that’s coming up, or maybe just to get in shape (don’t forget, round is a shape).  But, by mid March, the gym suddenly looks like a Christmas Tree lot on December 26^th.  Thing is, this is good for the gym – after all, they have your money whether you go or not… and because they know most people quit going, they can sell way more memberships than their facility could support if people actually worked out year round.

How about The Onslaught of After Christmas Sales – aka, the Winter Olympics for Shopaholics.  Do you know there are some people who finish next year’s Christmas shopping by January 10^th?  (and good luck exchanging that particular holiday sweater come Dec. 26, 2012.)

Taking that one step further, it’s also time for the After Christmas, Christmas Merchandise Sales.  This is where you can pick up lights, yard displays, cards and wrapping paper for pennies on the dollar… which seems like quite the deal until you have to rent a storage space in which to keep all that stuff until next December.

Then there’s the debate of how long to leave the Christmas tree and outdoor lights up.  Some lose them the day after Christmas.  Some say keep them through New Year’s.  And then there are those who opt to leave their lights up all year long – and why not?  It saves on labor next year, right?  At least they stop turning them on after January 15^th or so…  thank goodness for small favors, right?

As for leaving the tree up year round… I read an article recently that suggested doing just that, and decorating it for the holidays of each month.  It even suggested observing September 19^th in this fashion – you know, National Talk Like A Pirate Day?  (What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?  RRRR!)

Btw, if you’re seriously considering this year-long tree thing, please tell me you have an artificial tree… unless of course you’re planning on celebrating National Firefighters Day.

And that brings me full circle, back to New Year’s resolutions.  Why?  Because I resolved to get my first Shameless Product Plug of the new year out of the way early.  Thus, I am challenging all you Crisp Rooters out there to try a new flavor of our CrispRoot Cassava Chips this year.  We have four, you know:  Original, Thai Ginger, BBQ Bliss, and tangy Sea Salt.

What’s that?  You say you’ve tried them all already?  Great!  But – have you shared them with your friends?  C’mon now – no fair keeping good stuff like this secret!  And, in order to help you share (we’re always trying to be helpful, after all) – we’ll suggest this:  why don’t you post which CrispRoot flavor is your favorite – and why.

Ready, set… Click!!!

OK, going to bed when it’s dark – that works for me, and has since I was a kid.  Getting up in the dark?  I don’t care for it, but OK… I’ll deal with it for a few months out of the year.  But having to drive home from work in the dark, on the same day I got up in the dark?  Now, that just ain’t right.

The Winter Solstice is almost here.  It comes every December, rain or shine, or for that matter, snow.  Being as it means there’s only four days ‘til Christmas, this should be a good thing, right?  Wrong, at least in my book.  Christmas will come regardless, and my problem with the Solstice is that it’s the shortest day of the year.  In Southern California, that means the sun rises at 6:46 a.m., and sets at 4:46 p.m.  Do the math – that’s only 10 hours of sunlight.  As we Southern Californians love our sunlight, only one word can describe this: yuk.  (in truth, there are other, better words to describe this, but since this is a family-oriented blog…)

OK, OK… being as the Earth rotates the sun, and being as the Earth’s axis is tilted, it’s a fact of life that the length of days will change as the Earth moves about its orbit.  As a result of this, there are two days a year, called Equinoxes, where there is exactly the same amount of daylight as there is nighttime.  One of them, the one in March, I like.  Why?  Because it not only means more daylight is coming, but that we’re only 90 days from the Summer Solstice – that lovely day when there are 14, count ‘em, 14 (!) hours of daylight at our latitude.  But the other Equinox, the one in September?  That one I don’t care for, because it means the Winter Solstice is only three months away.  As I said, yuk.

Could it be worse?  Yes.  We could be in Alaska for the Solstice… where it’ll be pitch black outside for 24 hours straight.   Sorry, but even knowing that in six months there would be a day of 24 hour sunlight could not possibly offset the dread of 24 hours of continual darkness.  Only Uncle Fester working on his moon tan could possibly like something like that.

Answer me this: Are there things better done in the dark than in the light?  (well, yes… but once again, this is a family-oriented blog – and we are so not going there).  Let’s change that question to, are there any tangible benefits to having more hours of darkness than daylight? The answer would be a resounding NO!  For one, more power is used to light lights – that’s not terribly green, now is it?  Plus, more crimes happen in the dark… having more crime isn’t good, is it?  And then there’s bugs… or more precisely, cockroaches.  Cockroaches like the dark.  ‘Nuff said.

And lastly, on a strictly personal note, this year the Winter Solstice is even worse than normal.  You see, the Solstice can move a day up or back from year to year (ask the scientists why –  I’m a blog writer, not an astrophysicist.)  Most years, it’s on December 21^st – giving me one ray of light in an otherwise dark and gloomy day.  December 21^st happens to be my older brother’s birthday… and telling an older sibling he got ripped off by being born on the shortest day of the year is absolute gold to a younger sibling.

But no, not this year – the Solstice is on 12/22.

Yuk.

What is with Christmas and three word phrases?  The season abounds with them… but at least things like “Deck the Halls” and “Ho, Ho, Ho” are festive, joyous, and are known for putting people in the holiday spirit.  There are a few others, though, that bring out completely different reactions.

The first, worst, and most common of the dreaded three word phrases is…  (no, not “Made In China”): “Some Assembly Required”  Except for Tim The Tool Man types, I don’t think there is a parent alive in America that doesn’t live in fear of these three little words… though spouses of Tim the Tool Man types may fear them more than others.

The first conundrum brought on by that phrase is, what to do with the directions that came with the bike/swing set/Barbie’s Dream House?  Guys don’t do directions!  (and neither do a growing amount of girls, either).  The thing is, people who fall victim to this line of thinking usually end up with another conundrum – what to do with the leftover parts when they’re finished?

For those who decide that as the manufacturer was kind enough to provide directions, one should actually use them, well – this brings up another problem: Most of these directions cannot be understood by the average human.  In the old days, that was because they were written by an engineer who assumed we all had graduated from MIT.  Now it’s because the directions are often written in China (more on that later), by someone whose English language skills are, to be kind, somewhat limited.  Worse yet are the directions that are rendered via pictograms.  How is it we are thousands of years more advanced than cavemen, yet we have returned to their method of written communication? (and far less accurately, I might add).

On to phrase number two: Batteries Not Included.  Of course they’re not.  Including batteries would rob the average parent of their favorite holiday activity – figuring out what size batteries to get, and then spending more on them than they did on the toy itself.

Aside from making the Energizer Bunny richer, this insatiable need for batteries did us the favor of creating one eminently practical gift… batteries!  I heard of one father who gave his recently-married son a case of batteries for Christmas – and when his son asked why, the dad just grinned and said, “Just wait.  You’ll see”.  Two years later, the son said it was the best Christmas gift he had ever received.

(Oh, and regarding the size thing?  Nothing gets you a “What, I’m descended from morons?” look faster than providing the wrong batteries for your kid’s toy.)

So, are there other three word phrases this time of year that strike less than joyous reactions amongst the revelry?  Sure.  “Made In China” gets at least an honorable mention…  A few years back, like many others I’ve heard of, my wife declared Christmas to be a “Made In China”-free zone.  After one very long day of shopping, she returned home with nothing more than a declaration that her personal trade war was over… and no, she wasn’t the winner.

And then there is the one phrase I’ve purposely saved for last, the one that strikes fear in the heart of every American parent whose child has been clamoring for the latest, greatest “toy to end all toys” for months… who has roamed from store to store, racking up more miles than a disoriented UPS driver, all in the fragile hope of finding that elusive Holy Grail of Christmas gifts – only to be told over and over and over and over and over and over again, “sorry, we’re out of stock”.

…and some people wonder why real eggnog has rum in it.

Merry Christmas, Y’all!!!

I’ve experienced it first hand – the looks you get when you cruise down a street, leather jacket in place, chrome shining in the sun, pipes emitting that classic rumble… For that matter, you can see it in the way people will stop or backtrack in their trek across a parking lot, just to take an extra, often longing look at the mystical beast parked before them. You can say what you will about their riders – bikers do come in all shapes, sizes, genders, temperaments, and levels of cleanliness… but there is something magical about a Harley that touches the American soul.

Harley Davidson, usually shortened to Harley, is often referred to as An American Classic.  Since 1903, the Milwaukee based company has turned out multiple generations of motorcycles that have enraptured multiple generations of our country’s people.  The question is, how is that?  What is it about a Harley that captures the American spirit so well?

Well, first off, a Harley is Made In America. Period.  Embracing a “one world” culture is a big- picture ideal, but there is always an innate tendency to root for the home team… and Harley exemplifies that spirit.

Second, Harleys are American, right down to their very core.  They embody what made this country great – they’re bold, daring, determined, and proud.  They’re also rugged, independent, and decidedly individualistic… and they state it in no uncertain terms.  (Basically, they’re the John Wayne of motorcycles.)

Third, they’re loud and they’re powerful.  We like loud and powerful – witness muscle cars, or for that matter, vacuum cleaners.  Yes, vacuum cleaners.  Design engineers worked for years to make them quiet, and when they succeeded, America yawned… and wouldn’t buy them.  Luxury is quiet – pampered is quiet – elegant is quiet.  But something that’s hard working?  Now that is supposed to be noisy!

On a side note, did you know that older, carbureted Harleys have their own signature sound, beyond the classic rumble that can still be heard emanating from today’s fuel injected models?  They do.  In fact, an older, well tuned big V-twin Harley will actually talk to you… though in a rather limited, very repetitious one-word vocabulary.   What word?  Here’s a clue: think of our 43^rd state (that would be Idaho, for those of you who aren’t up on your U.S. History).  If you can tell me what makes Idaho famous, then you know the answer.  Yep, when at idle, those bikes quite clearly say “potato”.  (Actually, they say “potato, potato, potato”, over and over again.)

Don’t believe me?  You should.  Import motorcycle manufacturers like Honda and Kawasaki have spent a ton of money trying to emulate that sound on their Harley knockoffs – with rather limited success.  To be fair, even Harley Davidson has invested a small fortune trying to recapture that sound in their fuel injected bikes…

Now, on to customization, a.k.a. “why many riders say HD stands for hundreds of dollars” (repeated every time they step foot in an HD dealership).  Not many Harley riders leave well enough alone – they want to make their bike all theirs.  Things like custom paint jobs, more (or less) chrome, lighting packages, custom seats, handlebars that extend above the riders head (those are called “apehangers”… picture it, and you’ll know why), lowered handlebars, sissy bars, saddlebags…  they all express the owner’s individuality and say, this bike is me.

OK, for those of you raising your hand in the back row… yes, there’s also a bad boy aspect to Harleys – but that, in its own way, is part of the appeal  (just ask any female you happen to know about the appeal of bad boys).  To put it another way, just remember what the British called us back in 1776:  Rebels.

Americans are just that, classically rebellious by our very nature… and that’s exactly what Harleys are: an American Classic.

Ride Safe, my friends!

Don’t look now, but Thanksgiving is only a week away. Yup, just seven days remain until the big feast, football ‘til you drop, and oh yeah… a day in which to give thanks.  Please – don’t forget that last part.

With Thanksgiving comes a boatload of traditions – involving things like where you’re going for dinner, a morning game of football in the park, football on TV, and of course, the meal itself. Some you like, some you may not,  but they are called traditions for a reason, because they’re ingrained in your life and can be as indelible something written in Sharpie.

Where ya’ gonna’ go? As any family can tell you, this tradition can be flexible, semi-flexible, or as rigid as steel.  Do you stay home, or go to the in-laws?  (The in-laws?  Great!  Which ones – his or hers?)  Is your gathering always at the same place, or does it rotate ?  Maybe you have a set deal – every year you host Thanksgiving and your brother hosts Christmas.

Then there’s those who fight the whole tradition thing and go to Disneyland or to the movies.  Funny, but when you do this year after year, there’s a word for it (no, not anti-social): tradition.

Watching Football: Dallas/somebody at 9:00, Detroit/somebody else at 1:00, and now there’s a third game on the NFL Channel at 5:00!  Some wives, girlfriends, &/or mothers complain about this, and loudly.  But others get into it more than their husbands, boyfriends, or kids do.  (Interesting… one type kicks and screams to avoid football, while the other screams and yells while watching football.  They might have more in common with each other than they think.)

Playing Football: Universally called the Turkey Bowl, this is a game played on Thanksgiving morning game between friends &/or family.  For those unfamiliar with the concept, it’s a friendly game fought to the death, or close to it.  The prize: bragging rights for the next year.

The action sometimes gets funny – dog piles for a fumble when the ball is sitting serenely off to the side, the inevitable pass that hits an inattentive receiver in the crotch… basically, a bunch of semi-harmless YouTube moments (like the year I face-planted my sister-in-law into the grass because she kept complaining I wasn’t tackling her hard enough J).  Oh, and there’s always one guy who gets mad because people aren’t taking the game seriously enough for him.

The Food: What’s Thanksgiving without some food…  usually a lot of food…  often times, way too much food.  Of course, there’s turkey  (except for you heathens who have a ham… and btw, what’s up with that?)  Then, there’s stuffing – and the arguments that go with it, like which kind is best, cornbread or traditional… or where you cook it, in the bird or in a pan (c’mon…it’s called “stuffing” for a reason!)

Green bean casserole, anyone?  Do you prefer mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, or both?  How about cranberry sauce – and if so, homemade or canned?   (Canned!  I can’t stand cranberry sauce, but I love the sound it makes as it comes out of the can, and the little ridges that stay in place when you put it in a serving dish.)

Helpings: You know you you’re having more than one, right?  There’s the danger of insulting the cook if you don’t, and besides, on Round Two you get to skip the stuff you don’t like. (for some reason, though, my mom still expects me to eat like I did when I was 18, having three or four helpings – full helpings.  Groan…)

The least-needed question in America: It’s not the question so much as the timing, as it’s usually asked the very second the dinner dishes are cleared away.  Allegedly, that’s because the host wants to be a good host, a polite host… but it may just be because they want to be done with cooking in cleaning – “Is anyone ready for dessert?”

Hopefully, this little tale of traditions rang a few bells, brought up some memories, and put a smile on your face… but we’re quite sure there are more – many more.  So, let us hear about them!! (In the meantime, though, please pass the gravy.)

Happy Thanksgiving, CrispRooters!