Sista

I hope you've noticed my fabulous new page design up at the top there. Yeah, it's pretty cool, I know. You can say it. 

All the credit goes to my little sister, Ruth Tinsley. 

Ruth is a graphic designer here in Birmingham via her very own company, Bogue & Weejer. Ruth can pump out some pretty butt-kickin' designs and this is just one prime example. She probably cranked this particular one out in about 6 minutes 37 seconds. Perfect for my blog. 

So shout out to my little sis.... thanks for making it for me!!!! 

You are the best sista EVA. 

Love you.

oh yeah... she also came up with the name of my blog. But my name really is Mooser.

My South

I saw this posting on my sister's blog today (www.bogueandweejer.blogspot.com) and thought it was pretty darn funny so I wanted to share it with ya'll...



This was written by Robert St. John, executive chef and owner of the Purple Parrot Cafe, Crescent City Grill and Mahogany Bar of Hattiesburg, MS.

Thirty years ago I visited my first cousin in Virginia. While hanging out with his friend, the discussion turned to popular movies of the day. When I offered my two-cents on the authenticity and social relevance of the movie Billy Jack, one of the boys asked, in all seriousness; "Do you guys have movie theaters down there?" To which I replied, "Yep. We wear shoes too."

Just three years ago, my wife and I were attending a food and wine seminar in Aspen, Colo. We were seated with two couples from Las Vegas. One of the Glitter Gulch gals was amused and downright rude when I described our restaurant as a fine-dining restaurant. "Mississippi doesn't have fine-dining restaurants!" she insisted and nudged her companion. I fought back the strong desire to mention that she lived in the land that invented the 99-cent breakfast buffet.

I wanted badly to defend my state, my region, and my restaurant with a 15-minute soliloquy and public relations rant that would surely change her mind. It was at that precise moment that I was hit with a blinding jolt of enlightenment, and in a moment of complete and absolute clarity, it dawned on me -- my South is the best-kept secret in the country. Why would I try to win this woman over? She might move down here.

I am always amused by Hollywood's interpretation of the South. We are still, on occasion, depicted as a collective group of sweaty, stupid, backwards-minded, racist rednecks. The South of movies and TV, the Hollywood South, is not my South.

This is My South:

My South is full of honest, hardworking people. My South is the birthplace of blues and jazz, and rock n' roll. It has banjo pickers and fiddle players, but it also has BB King, Muddy Waters, the Allman Brothers, Emmylou Harris and Elvis.

My South is hot. My South smells of newly mowed grass. My South was kick the can, creek swimming, cane-pole fishing and bird hunting.

In my South, football is king, and the Southeastern Conference is the kingdom.

My South is home to the most beautiful women on the planet.

In my South, soul food and country cooking are the same thing.

My South is full of fig preserves, cornbread, butter beans, fried chicken, grits and catfish.

In my South, we eat foie gras, caviar and truffles. In my South, our transistor radios introduced us to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones at the same time they were introduced to the rest of the country.

In my South, grandmothers cook a big lunch every Sunday, so big that we call it dinner (supper comes later).

In my South, family matters, deeply.

My South is boiled shrimp, blackberry cobbler, peach ice cream, banana pudding and oatmeal cream pies.

In my South, people put peanuts in bottles of Coca-Cola and hot sauce on almost everything.

In my South, the tea is iced and almost as sweet as the women. My South has air-conditioning.

My South is camellias, azaleas, wisteria and hydrangeas.

In my South, the only person that has to sit on the back of the bus is the last person that got on the bus.

In my South, people still say "Yes, ma'am," "No ma'am," "Please" and "Thank you."

In my South, we all wear shoes.... most of the time.

My South is the best-kept secret in the country.

Please continue to keep the secret....it keeps the idiots away.

Lena Dog

This weekend Steve and Lauren are in New Orleans, so I'm hanging out with the fabulous girls, Lena Dog and Sophie Soph. Steve belongs to Lena, and Lauren to Sophie. Both of these girls are fabulous dogs, full of spunk and personality. Always so much fun to be around.  It really doesn't require a lot of energy and focus to take care of them... they easily entertain themselves by playing karate teeth or having nap time. 

Sometimes Lena gets a little anxious when Steve is not around... she's not really sure what to do with herself. During those times, she becomes very vocal. Not with barking or growling... she just likes to talk to you. She wants you to know how she feels about certain issues such as politics or the weather. Today is one of those days. For the past two hours, Lena has been wandering around the house voicing her opinions on several different issues. I tried to catch a video of her, but my camera isn't cooperating with me. 

I found a video from a few months ago when Lena and I were hanging out together. I can't remember what the topic of our conversation was at the time, but I'm sure it's very similar to her conversations of today. 

So here is good ole Lena Dog having a conversation with me.

Mooser?

For my first blog entry I decided that I should better explain my name. It's kinda weird, kinda random... doesn't really make that much sense. Not yet, anyways. 

Everybody in my family has a nickname. I don't care who you are or how you are related to my family, but if you have had any contact with us you will undoubtedly walk away with a nickname. It can be a name that describes your personality, or a name that was a derived from a funny situation involving you, or a name that makes fun of some defect on your body. It could be anything. If you don't have a nickname then that means my family probably doesn't love you. 

So back to Mooser. My middle name is VanNuys..... pronounced "va-nice". It's a family name that has been passed down through the girls of the Pendergrass side of the family. I have no idea what it means. Over the years my middle has morphed into what is now my family nickname. Here's the flow chart of how that happened: 

VanNuys - Vamoose - Moose - Mooser

And that's pretty much it. That's how it happened. Here are the nicknames of my siblings just to give you more examples: Ruth - Soof,  Noah- Hoop,  Peter- Stir. 

hmmm... weird, I just noticed that all my other siblings' names consist of only 4 letters. I guess it's just cause I'm the oldest and I'm the most special (You know it's true, Ruth) 

So that's the story behind "Mooser". Nothing too complicated or indepth. The "long-legged" part is kinda obvious... I'm rather tall so that part just fits. 

Well, I think that's all I have for my first post. Kinda lame, I know, but you'll get over it. I'm a pretty bad typer so I'm sure I left out a bunch of words and misspelled some things, but I'm too lazy to go back and proof read this. I'm sure someone will do it for me and email me with all the typos.