I was in the shower today and suddenly I noticed I was naked.  Usually its just such a common act (gladly), like brushing your teeth, you just go through the motions not really thinking about what you’re doing before stumbling out the door.  So there I was in the shower naked, and I thought about how some people sing in the shower even if they have a really bad singing voice.  Maybe it’s the acoustics, but for whatever reason it seems like a lot of people think its American Idol audition time in the shower.  Hmm…Paula Abdul…, nevermind .  I consider myself a musician, but I do NOT sing in the shower.  However, I do shout random unintelligible words.  Today it was something like this:   

“AHHH BBUNAKKKAAAAAA!!!  ICK ICK KAHHHH KAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEELLLLLL!  LOLLALALA DDDDUB BBBRRRR VVVVVVV NILLOOOOOOOOONIIIIAAAHHA HAH AAAA ALA SON OF A BISCUIT!!!!!!”

I encourage you as a reader to re-read the quoted passage above, and to yell it now.  Loud!!!  You can do it, just sound it out.  Also, feel free to come up with your own shower-yell or “shell” that you find particularly invigorating in the morning.  Share it with the rest of us shower shouters.  Are you “shellin’ what I’m shellin’?”

Happy desultory vociferation!   

If you recall from my first blog talking about my life history, I mentioned that I was born in Germany.  I very much like to celebrate my German Heritage at various Festivals/cultural events/etc...  This weekend gave me the opportunity to attend Bockfest.  What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is Bockfest you say?  Don't worry I'll tell you all about it.  But first, a brief aside:

     At one time I was one of those poor souls who would often say to myself and others: "Cincinnati Stinks, there's nothing to do here."  The problem with that, I came to realize, is that I didn't know what I wanted to do, and I expected Cincinnati to just show up and entertain me.  Its when I started exploring and reaching out, I discovered that there is a heaping pile of things to do in Cincinnati.  Ok enough with this, back to the Bock.

 Check this out from the Bockfest2008 website:  "Cincinnati is the home to the world's oldest Bock festival, but many Cincinnatians are unaware of this tradition. If you are one of the unfortunate who have never attended a Bockfest (or who have but can't really remember that weekend) here's a quick primer. In the 1800s, Cincinnati was one of America's most prolific brewing cities. Cincinnatians drank more beer per capita than any city in the country, and Over-the-Rhine was at one point home to more than 50 breweries. A tradition developed among the breweries to release all of their bock beer on the same day. Bock beer is a rich, complex, robust lager that marks the end of the Winter brewing season and the beginning of Spring."

Thats right, this blog is about BEER!     

"Bock" is a corruption of the name of the German city of Einbeck.  "Bock" also happens to mean "billy-goat" in German.  Here's a great poster that I ended up buying:

Great pic isn't it? The guy who draws these posters was there to sign them also.  So was the goat gentleman who posed for the picture.  Just kidding. But really, he was.

Bockfest Hall was the main hangout area and it was located at the old Red Cheetah on 12th and Main.  There you could get food and adult beverages.  I had the Hudephol Bock which was fantastic.  A traditional bock beer is a dark, strong, malty lager.  Very smooth and tasty.

I walked around to some of the tables where they had old Steins for sale.  These are a big collectors item, and some were very expensive.

<- Das Boot

To eat I had a bratt mit sauerkraut.  It was sehr gut.

So overall it was an interesting way to spend my sunday.  The weather undoubtedly had an impact on the festivities, but write this one in on your calendar for next year.  It was also cool to drive around the historic Over-the-Rhine neighborhood and see all the renovations that are taking place. 

Here's me and a friendly reveler.  My Lederhosen are at the cleaners unfortunately.  Though its hard to see, I am wearing my green hat.

German Maufia

Next week, I get Irish and search for the lepprechaun's pot of gold to help pay off all my student loans.  Stay tuned...

I drive out to Harrison, Ohio a couple times a week.  Its for my practicum so the State of Ohio can see that I'm a "highly qualified" individual. There are several ways to get to Harrison from Cincinnati.  Some are more scenic than others.  I was driving to Harrison one day, and I was lucky enough to see something that stuck in my mind, and made me think about life.  I don't really know what this will become one day, but I thought that I'd relate the experience in the form of an ongoing fictional story.  Kind of like a textual comic strip to supplement my blog entries.  So here it begins:

 (Based on actual events)

Josiah Freedman and the Roadkill Chronicles

Episode I. Frozen

    It was a cold clear day and frost was on the gound.  Josiah Freedman slowly trugged to his County Maintenance Vehicle.  He put on his bright orange relfector vest.  A familiar routine.  He climbed into the vehicle.  The maintenance vehicle struggled to start up like a life-long smoker, coughing and hacking to clear a worn down throat.  Like Josiah's.  Josiah lit up a cigarrette.  His frosty breath was visible in the cabin of the truck.  He sat a minute.  Then pulled out down the road.

This had been Josiah's job for the last 15 years.  At one time in his past, he had studied to become a veterinarian.  He really liked animals, and felt it was his obligation, even Christian duty to protect and help these creatures of nature.  Josiah abhored hearing about cruelty to animals.  Dog fights and the like.  It was bad enough humans could treat each other so inhumane, but to include innocent animals was simply disgusting.

The road winded through pockets of trees reaching out, and small homes that were quiet in the cool morning.  The county job kind of fell on Josiah.  He was numb to it now, like any simple work.  Just a job.  Josiah couldn't even really recall the circumstances of how he ended up where he was in life.  That had faded away.  Fifteen years ago.

He was hoping for an easy day, but up ahead he could make out a shape in the road.  Maybe a fallen branch?  No.  No.  Josiah slowed down, and pulled off to the side of the road and flipped the switch to the flashing orange caution lights attached to the rear of the County Maintenance Vehicle.

Then, Josiah walked over to the broken raccoon carcass.  Josiah picked the raccoon up by the tail.  It was frozen solid all the way through.  Must've been sitting out there all night.  Josiah tossed the roadkill into the back of the County Vehicle, then lurched back into the cabin and lit a cigarrette.  He drove down the road.  Scanning the cold pavement.