Bubba's Patio Critter Feeding Station

My father in his old"er" age has decided to make pets of all the stray animals in the neighborhood. Here's a video of a possum and a pair of mated grey foxes. At the end the momma stuffs her mouth full of cornbread to bring home to her litter.

That's right- every night my dad makes cornbread for the foxes.

Real Dad and Green Dad

Green Dad can be seen on the first floor of the City of Frisco Municipal Building. Real Dad can be seen in Colleyville.

Bruce

This is less expressive than the others, but I am glad I dipped my hand in photo-realism... if just a tiny bit. The rest of the week will be more painterly.

"Bruce." Oil on canvas. Approx 8 hours.

Mom

This week I am essentially working on a painting a day. I will go back on Friday to add some final touches, but this is day one.

On this day in 1969...

...my parents were married! Happy 40th, Mom and Dad!

Channel 5 wants in, too.

Romans 8:28, baby!

I'm wondering what Dad was thinking with the red bandanna and camouflage suspenders... but somehow God is using that for the good, too. ;)

28And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Fox 4 Follows Up

That's my daddy!

I just wish it wasn't under these circumstances that my parents' church made the news. I am really proud of my dad and the rest of the congregation, though, for saying, "We're Christian. We will forgive them." What a witness. :)

It's Christmas?

Really? Because it's 60°F outside.
I didn't decorate or put up lights this year; my parents didn't either. As a matter of fact, here is the extent to how far they decorated:

That's right- apparently instead of a Christmas tree, this year we are placing the gifts under the TiVo/DVD player. À propos. If you look closely you can see my dad's gift to my mom... wrapped in tin foil. And the frog wearing a silly Santa hat in the background? Doesn't count. That's been out all year.

The day started nicely enough. I woke up in my old room (but new bed, new furniture... whole lotta creepy) to a barrage of holiday texts. Don't get me wrong- I like them; I sent one out myself. But if you asked me on a date and then never bothered to call and finalize and therefore I haven't heard from you in a month, why don't you go ahead and TAKE ME OFF YOUR GENERIC "MERRY CHRISTMAS" TEXT LIST. Thanks.

After responding to a few choice texts, I went into the kitchen to tend to the mashed potatoes and managed to break a toe. So that was pleasant. Brother arrived... Mom and Dad arrived with my stocking:

I want to know how Santa got that much cold and flu medicine into his sleigh without being accused of running a meth lab. But I appreciate it.

We opened gifts. Please for you to enjoy by brother's ninja-like gift-wrapping skills:

I'll save you the suspense. It's a CD.

We ate lunch, and that should have done it. I mean, didn't it at least smell like Christmas in the Nelson home with the ham and pies baking? I WOULDN'T KNOW. I can't smell (or taste) a d*mn thing. So thanks for making my favorite meal, Mom. It looked like you guys enjoyed it. And the two pounds of Twizzlers you got me, Santa? I appreciate it, but: rubber. My favorite candy tastes likes tires to me right now.

Alas... no matter how lame the day is, I can always count on my favorite Christmas tradition. Every year for 6 years running (and longer before that), after we have had as much family fun as we can stand, my best friends and I descend upon the Bennigan's in Bedford, drinking our Irish coffees and dodging former classmates. We laugh about the year and create a cheer for the next. What is this year's cheer you ask?

2009: Bennigan's filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy in June of 2008.

Oh, that doesn't rhyme?

Marbled Eggs

Marbled eggs have been a holiday tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. They're basically just salted boiled eggs, but if you have never seen one they can really throw you off. Once I brought these to a party and one guy thought they were chocolate. Yeah... his first bite was a quite a shock.

I don't really know how marbled eggs became such a staple in my British/German household. All the research I have done labels them as a Chinese dish. But I could care less... done properly, they're greatness.

The recipe is quite simple.

Hard-boil the eggs.
Remove from pan.
Crack the egg shells, but DO NOT peel.
Return to pan.
Add soy sauce, salt, and tea bags.
Simmer for 1/2 hour.
Peel and refrigerate.
Serve cold.

Here's the result:













Yummers!

My mom's the bomb.

About a week ago my mom called to say that we would be having beans for Thanksgiving. Now I know times are tight... but, beans?

Beans.

Don't get me wrong. My mom makes a mean pot of beans. They cook all day with garlic and ham hock, then we eat them with fresh onion (well, my dad and me anyway) and cornbread with so much sugar it's more like corncake. But still. It's Thanksgiving, and Carolyn wants turkey and dressing. And leftovers.

Well I give thanks today because Momma Nelson came to her senses and cooked a FEAST for the four of us. Turkey, dressing, gravy, broccoli with hollandaise sauce, marbled eggs (more on that later), candied yams, and two pies: pumpkin (of course) and pecan (southern staple). Plus, my father searched far-and-wide for fresh cranberries (Sam's) and made his famous relish... it's good enough to eat alone and sends that canned jelly crap running. It was a good day.

See, my grandparents are no longer living, and most of our extended family is out of state. The few who are still in the area are, unfortunately, not available to us for one reason or another. My immediate family is rarely all together, and when we are, we rarely get along. But we did yesterday. Props to you mom.

And to prove that things never change: