The Godfather Redux

Sorry for the delay (Wow--Lindsey?? Is it you??). No computer on weekends equals no Daily Rice on weekends. So if I’m not blogging, what am I doing? Glad you asked…

“I’m eating beef jerky and watching a German woman dressed in Elizabethan garb singing Italian opera. Yes.”

So this weekend my Godfather traded in cheap vodka for still cheaper dried meat, and with this comment I knew my weekend had reached its climax. But it’s a poignant zenith, as I know that somehow the high of our weekend is simultaneously the low.

Don’t get me wrong--We do some things on the weekend. For example, we went to a Flea Market in Homburg (found illegal WWII paraphernalia) and watched a local soccer game (a curious mix of kickball and cage fighting). But then the day slips by and we find ourselves under the pale melancholy shine of a European moon.

This is when things usually take a turn for the worse. After exhausting our seemingly endless supply of National Geographic and History Channel programs, the channel inevitably ends up on this bizarre German happy hour show. While the show, a curious mix not unlike a 65 year old Ashley Simpson lip syncing at an old folks home, certainly warrants our sarcastic comments, the laughter eventually must stop and then it gets very quiet.

The realization that we are the ones watching the show, two grown men on a Saturday night nursing a Bitburger or Kostriker is the most curious mix of all, and by curious I mean sad.

All in all, there's nothing I'd rather be doing.