- I met Conni for lunch at Cahoots in Hartselle today. What a visually fascinating place! Looking forward to taking Lea over there.
- I showed Nathan True Romance this week. I love this film, though I’d forgotten how quirky the score is. It’s almost playful, though given most of what happens on-screen, it’s disconcerting rather than calming.
- Hopefully, my combat with our dishwasher is near an end. Its new drain pump is installed, and its new inlet valve will be tomorrow evening. Probably another $100-150 saved, thanks to RepairClinic.com.
- The new Formula 1 season is upon us. Here’s hoping the changes to the cars will make for better competition. (They certainly look better.)
- I was on vacation when we had to change the damned clocks this time, so it was largely transparent to me. I’ll have to remember that.
- We might be done with any reasonable prospect of a freeze. Guess I’d better cut the onions this weekend.
- Posts (and/or possibly post series) in progress: A wet shaving primer; best and worst ROI for high quality in daily use items; and a new feminist manifesto.
This is part of an ongoing series reviewing hot wings in the Huntsville area. Visit #HsvHotWings for a comprehensive linked list.
Taylor’s Wing Shak, suggested by reader Amanda Conger, is located out Winchester Road a piece, in always-bigger-than-I-remember-it northeastern Huntsville. Rachel and I went out for lunch to check it out.
Taylor’s is nearly full service, with the only you-tote-it part being the check at the end. Of the numerous combos available, the eight wings and fries for $9.25 seemed the best option for lunch, so I went with that. You’re allowed to get two flavors with the eight-wing combo, so in a bit of a departure for the post series, I got four supernova wings (“with heat like the sun”) and four lemon pepper wings. Celery is an extra buck, but you get a lot of it (interesting detail). Our service was friendly, prompt, and unobtrusive.
Quality: 5/10. My wings were appealingly basketed, with clear delineation between fries, supernova wings, and lemon pepper wings. They were fried effectively, with crispy skin yet juicy meat, and served at a good temperature. Unfortunately, size was rather lacking. I had a couple that approached reasonable, but most were small, and one was a two-bite runt.
Flavor: 7/10. All of my wings tasted good. The supernova wings have an immediate chili pepper kick, and then smooth out on a sweet barbecue note. The lemon pepper wings had an appealing salty tartness, with a good bit of black pepper background. Yummy.
Heat: 5/10. The supernova wings come out of the gate warm, and then climb a bit. I got a little sheen on my forehead, and a little tearing followed. I had a mild afterburn of about five minutes. (Heat commentary is for the supernova wings only.)
Taylor’s Wing Shak seems a promising joint that wants to be taken seriously, with numerous flavor and combo possibilities. Indeed, they’ve got a lot of the melody down. A bump on wing size could make this a great stop.
Thanks to the ceaseless efforts of diligent safety advocates, the day-to-day threat of getting squished has gone steadily down my entire life.
I mean, there was something character-building about getting one of your fingers mashed in a car’s power window, wasn’t there? Now, most of the windows just meekly retreat if they meet the slightest resistance. And there was magic in slamming your fingers in the car door. I suppose that’s still possible, but it’s not like it used to be. My dad was restoring a ’67 Cadillac convertible one summer when I was about nine. I was out “helping” him, and managed to close the passenger door with my left hand whilst holding the side of the windshield frame with my right hand.
That was a special moment, looking up at my fingers being mashed between the windshield and that 300-lb. door and feeling that exquisite agony. It’s what I think of whenever I consider relativity. My fingers were probably in there a grand total of one second, but in my memory I looked at them for at least ten.
Cars are just as heavy as they ever were—even more so—but car doors don’t needlessly weigh several hundred pounds anymore.
My favorite was the garage door. I used to love hitting the button from the back of the garage and then seeing how closely I could cut it getting out. Sometimes I wouldn’t be in the mood and would begin walking briskly as soon as the descent began…but other times it was on, baby. I’d let it get a third down, then halfway down, then usually a little past before taking off and rolling under it, imagining that I was just narrowly escaping the certain death of the multi-ton door crushing me between itself and the concrete like a rotten peach.
Now, you cross that little laser beam, and the door just goes back up.
I suppose there is still some game in trying to get out between the closing door and the beam, but with the threat of bodily injury so remote, the experience just doesn’t have that spark anymore.
I’ve been kidding myself all day thinking I wouldn’t, but I finally just said “how could I not blog about Sherry Frost today?”
Sherry Frost is Mrs. Chili, who longtime readers may recall visited Saintseester and me for a weekend, just about nine years ago as I type. We were fast online friends, and Sherry, ‘seester, and I decided we’d split Sherry’s airfare so we could hang out in person. It was a great weekend, and I hated to see it end.
Sherry Frost is also now a New Hampshire state representative, having claimed the uncontested seat in December. She’s been in the news several times since, most recently for tweeting she felt “homicidal” after men told her to “calm down.” Her Twitter feed is here.
(This is consistent not with the person(a?) for whom I built such affection, but with the person she eventually revealed herself to me to be.) Her behavior at the end of our relationship was viciously hateful, and I compounded my own pain by trying to save it for too long.
As heinously as Sherry behaved, I was never interested in thrashing through the fallout of our severed friendship on BoWilliams.com. I’m still not. I’m fascinated, however, that she’s backed into a position of some prominence—a place from which she could, ostensibly, advance her stated objectives, were she able to maintain some decorum—and she’s instead reverted to form.
“I always wondered what would happen if her blog persona escaped into our dimension.” – Saintseester
I would hate to think Sherry will be lionized for this shrieking hysteria, but these days you just can’t tell. Hey, she has a 2017 BoWilliams.com post about her now, so did I just aggravate the problem?
I love the Alabama Gulf Coast partially because I don’t have to leave home to get there. Where we stay is at the very bottom of my state—as far south as you can go in my state—but it’s still Alabama. We know our way around Gulf Shores well enough now for it to feel like home.
What I love most about it is that it’s so easy to find a peaceful beach experience. Food festivals, and live music, and beer, and all of those sorts of shenanigans are fantastic, but my sustained affection for them has waned considerably in the past several years. (Spirit still willing, blah blah blah.) Solution: stay in the Fort Morgan area. If/when you want the revelry, it isn’t far. But your default is a quiet drink, the surf, and good friends and family. (Well, quiet except for frequent copious laughter.)
Lea and I have rented condos in one of two complexes down Fort Morgan Road for decades. Now one of her sisters and her husband have purchased a house down there! And we got to borrow it for the weekend and the first part of this week. (Thanks guys! It was a blast!)
Our weather wasn’t great. It was pretty bad, actually. It rained most of the first two days, and then got colder as it cleared. But we got to hang on the beach a bit on the last afternoon. And really, it’s hard to complain. It may have been 12 years since we’ve had anything but great weather at the beach. (And hey, it was a lot nastier here while we were down there!)
The food was, as usual, fantastic. Our single best meal was at Doc’s. I also started trying the gumbo everywhere I went, after my pastor mentioned that was a favorite detail of his. The best gumbo I had was at The Original Oyster House.
Finally, Lea’s new van is a fine interstate vehicle, but the fuel mileage was disappointing. With the four of us and our stuff loaded, the compressor running, and the cruise set at 77, the ’14 Sienna returned 20 mpg. With most of 200K miles on it, that number was 22 in Lea’s ’04 Odyssey, and it was 24 when it was newer. I also prefer the handling of the Odyssey. The Sienna’s suspension is definitely tuned for ride comfort, which made it more than a little floaty in situations where the Odyssey was more tossable. Unambiguous positive for the Sienna: it’s much quieter.
Until next time, Gulf Shores. It’s never very long.