bigbonton

The 2007 Holiday Refuge Camp was held on Grand Isle de Bontonia.
The refugees arrived resembling pitiable huddled masses, showing a bit of embarrassment, not sure if they should be here, but sure they must look like losers for not having anything better to do for xmas-07 and New Years.
(BTW, it was xmas this year and that unholy name will continue until a decent Christmas occurs.)

Hiding nervousness behind their obvious efforts to show a love of the salt water, stinking of effort to be bohemian, and posturing of their “special calling of respite” that made them decide to seek comfort and joy with pseudo-strangers instead of staying close to the home and hearth, the Atlantis noobs parked their cars, stowed their keys, and might as well have shaved their heads. Their “Uh-Oh!” was obvious when they heard pre-launch, “All your hearts and minds belong to bigbonton for the duration. Fasten your personal floatation device. It’s going to be an unpredictable crossing. Let’s go for a ride.”

Stow the load and shove off.
Wind power and upper body strength drove us across the deep channel, through the winding creeks, and into a tidal enclave untouched by Santa or Satan.
Welcome ashore! The Grand Isle de Bontonia, a rest stop for the weary, a home to the transient, and a release for the over-pulled. Where you don’t have to shoot out the streetlights to see the stars.
One noob brought 7 DVDs for her personal Johnnie Depp film fest, which went fine until her laptop batteries were spent by day two. (By that time she had come out of her shell.)

The holiday tribe went through typical phases in their social interactions, including introversion morphing into friskiness, feelings of wonderment and attraction, being sized up, and addressing probing questions with answers like:
“Well, because someone has to live happily ever after.” “Just lucky, I guess.” “Never too late to have a happy childhood.” And “Why spoil my great lifestyle?”

La Replenishment Bateau.
Always a welcomed sight, especially after a few days off the grid. Seeing her sail meant fresh supplies are near. Some days she brought treats like chicken necks (just add salt water and they transform into crabs), chapstick, and the occasional peanut butter and jellyfish sandwich.

Every Femme Tourista wants to score with her outfitter, a common travel condition known as the “Tarzan-Jane Syndrome”.
No one actually called anyone else Tarzan, but daily aliases like Buck Stagg and Marlin Spike showed attempts at playfully pairing-off.

She said, "What's your sign?"
I said, "Aquarium."
We had a whale of a time.
Presented her a bouquet of flounders.
I made her dinner.
I made her dance.
And what did I get for my trouble? Crabs!
Really, Blue Crabs, plenty of ‘em. Caught, cooked, shelled and finger fed with salty giggles. Holiday tidings inside us and beside us.

Parking Lot at Low Tide.

The weather was so fine, 70s/ daytime and 50s/ nights. When that changed we had to suffer a breakup and endure the cold hard facts of life: winter comes, even on the Isle of Bontonia.

The first days after arrival, with all that inherent nervous posturing, shyness, and wondering how this was going to play out, now seems so long ago. What was strange and foreign became comfortable, as familiar as your tongue touching your teeth. For a while we could almost take comfort and joy for granted, or at least feel like it was real and would last.

The Holiday Cello, Strung Like a Guitar.

It feels like the last night of 2007 Holiday Refuge Camp never actually came. But the calendar and the weather have both changed, so again Son Volt sings their refrain, “We’re all living proof that nothing lasts.”

January 1st, 2008.
1) Sunrise swim / polar bear salt water baptism.
2) Reborn.
A new day, new winter, new time, new beginner. Hello melancholy, something good ended. But now we have the chance to begin again; do it our way, like we like it, skipping some of the “figuring it out” dance.
Oh, who am I kidding. A good thing is over, paradise lost, that’s sad, and we are forever figuring it out.

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Click here for some sampled lyrics to the 1980’s song by Kip Addotta, “Wet Dream”

Continue reading "Grand Isle de Bontonia" »

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This season all the coolest manger displays feature a Christ-child with a bit of real-politick protection: a GPS implant that allows a speedy recovery of the boy-savior in case of pranksters being tempted to pilfer.

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh are small-time loot. Go straight for the Son of God!

That lamb on the right sure looks happy. I remember feeling that way about the holidays.

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Here’s a documentary shot from late last night. We were naughty, being all “up and at-‘em” when we should have been nestled in our beds. The thing is, we weren’t in our homes, so we couldn’t actually get IN our own beds, so we felt excused from any responsibilities. Some people felt a bit too free, but xmas is an excuse for a lot of things…

Luckily the big man in red understood that we try and he still brought in some goodies, regardless of our merit. Items like blue crabs, king crab legs, four kinds of fish, a paddle (the kayak kind, not the paddling kind), firewood, greens, ear flaps, a rope, a camera, a couple of friends that want to hang out and be together. It was a nice warm feeling.

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This is one of the few turkeys of 2007 that survived to see the sunrise of Friday November 23rd (the day after Thanksgiving).
His name is Jake, as in Jake Turkey. More original than naming him Tom.
Turkey Jake has his namesake from an old man with a saggy neck waddle. Human Jake didn’t seem to mind the saggy comparison, although I wonder if he is crying inside or if to him it's all water off a ducks back or maybe saggy human Jake no longer feels emotions…

Old gray turkey Jake is old, even by fowl standards. He’s older than most of the human offspring playing in the yard and has outlived all of his fowl contemporaries. Consequently, Jake has been granted a permanent pardon from ever being considered as sustenance. Smart decision for all, especially since this old bird must be one tough old bird to have escaped the dinner preparation neck-ax, survived nightly raccoon raids, and avoided road and farm vehicles up to November 2007.

As a tangible example of an homage to elders, we sent Jake off to the farm. Meaning the real farm, not the “farm” as in that euphemism for the chopping block and then the carving plate.

Old Jake has not yet “bought the farm” here.
Look closely and there’s a dog in the bottom right of the photo. She's a nice Boykin Spaniel, not likely to agitate the old bird.

Jake is more likely to see tomorrow than many of us, especially if we don’t learn to mend our wicked, wicked ways and remember to say "Yessum" to the ladies, and "Yessur" to the men.
Which leads us to:
“Most all the time, the whole year round,
there ain't no flies on me,
But jest'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! “

Click below for wise insight on
just how to behave “Jest 'fore Christmas”

Continue reading "there ain't no flies on me" »

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Today is the 14th of July, Bastille Day.
Time to grab a summer sweetheart with which to Storm the Bastille.

Bastille Day is a French national holiday called "Fête Nationale" ("National Holiday") in official parlance, or more commonly "quatorze juillet" ("14th of July").

Many dancing parties with fireworks are organized (“bals du 14 juillet”) and it is customary that firefighters organize them (“bals des pompiers”).

Those celebrations begin during the long evening sunset on the summer night of July 13th and last through the end of July 14th, or officially until 12:01 AM July 15th.

The two long summer evenings play an integral part in the celebration. Multiple nap-times spent privately with your summer sweetheart are considered as de rigueur as attending the public outdoor celebrations and various dances.

Think about it.

Wine, cheese, bread,
a haystack, hot tub, or trail summit,
the sun goes down, the moon comes up,
dancing and enjoying a hot summer night through 'til the sunrise.
The night, the day, then the night again.
This is a time of Champions!

Thanks wikipedia!

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First we ate an afternoon picnic, presented on a traditional red checked tablecloth.

The good stuff we feasted on included watermelon and corn straight from the garden and shrimp right out of the cast net.

After sundown we shot a few of our fireworks.
Later we watched the big boys shooting their big toys.

Then around midnight we burned anything flammable that was not nailed down.
This picnic table, for example . . . .

It’s so much fun to not have to tolerate adults being around,
wagging their scolding finger and saying, “You can’t do that, you’ll get hurt!” and other such stale maturity.
God Bless Freedom from Responsibility!
Fine, & You?

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No hotel/motel Lazy River here, that’s kid stuff. No kids here. They pee in the pool.
The appeal of this pool (other than the obvious fun in the sun) is the Cooling Cave, see the mist in the photo, just left of center?

The Cooling Cave doubles as a shady refuge by day and a hot tub by night.
Swinging singles take advantage of the cool cave to relish their life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness, as well as expand definitions of what that pursuit actually means. Some spelunk into the cave of the unknown in that happy pursuit.

Where is everybody? Likely between the sheets, it’s early for a holiday, just 7AM.
Hearing the call of duty, this holiday blog post got an early check-off from the leisurely July 4th chore list.
Next to-do: catch the AM ocean breeze with some Frisbee action, soak in the salty Atlantic, leisurely bike ride for chow, and find someone to chat with, all while accessorized with the girl-watchers best friend: wrap-around sunglasses, aka: gawker goggles, peep sheath, and wandering-eye alibi protection.

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It’s Mother's Day 2007. And this time it’s personal.
Sooner or later it was bound to happen.

This is a bona fide Hot Mama in red shoes.
Out & about in her EZ-Go cart.
This Mama’s a peach. She's got it.

“She walks, looks, and drives like an Ace, now.”
– Beach Boys, “Fun, Fun, Fun”

The red shoe rendezvous began with “Let’s go for a ride."
Never considered if that was an invitation or a command.
Saw the red shoes, jumped aboard, grabbed ahold.
She’s a doozie, we clicked together like two magnets.

She floored it full-on, a stylish fireball.
Let it roll!
Mama if you gotta get, please take me with you when you go.

What is it about red shoes?
They’re referenced so often in song lyrics.
Kate Bush, Chris Rea, Loretta Lynn, David Bowie, and Elvis Costello.

"Let's dance, put on your red shoes and dance the blues.
Let's dance, to the song they're playing on the radio.
Let's sway, under the moonlight, this serious moonlight."
- David Bowie, "Let's Dance"

Serious moonlight?

Two hot-shots sway
under the moonlight, this serious moonlight.

Red shoes, you know, the angels wanna wear my red shoes.
Red shoes, the angels wanna wear my red shoes.”

Full lyrics from "My Aim is True" below:

Continue reading "this Mama got red shoes" »

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Go looking down this red mud dirt road and after a mile or so you'll see a home that gets to feel special once a year at this time:

Another "got it all" shot brought to you by studiobonton.

In this holiday snapshot we feature 1) the dogwood in bloom, 2) the Easter egg colored house, 3) the field for an Easter egg hunt and frisbee, and 4) the quiet reflection that around here we're all just passing through, minding our own business, and painting anything we want to in any danged color we want to, by gar!

In case we encountered occupants with doubts that we were actually minding our own business while photographing his or her house, we were armed with a ready-made US Government approved excuse - prepared, tested, and proven.

The answer to “what y’all doin’ out there with dat camera” is a fabrication that includes such jargon as
"Support our troops", since that's an excuse for all sorts of behavior nowadays.
We could also drop back onto a phrase such as "Happy Easter, Brother", since that sounds so peaceful without all the hippie overtones that studiobonton is so careful to avoid, lest we become stereotyped as some sort of hipster other than a beatnik.

In the end there was no need to defend ourselves using a fabricated “truth”.
We came, we shot, we skedaddled
- & we posted, too, now didn’t we?

Dig it man, dig it like crazy in an Easter egg colored house, yo!

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While some folks are looking for something to do, and others have found an excuse to brew it up on a beautiful St. Patty’s Saturday,
the Geek Squad, water boys, and towel managers will be joining me at podcamp Atlanta.

Tooling away & geeking out indoors on a Fri, Sat, & Sun.
But I'm doing it for you!

Learning best of breed techniques and
networking with the hoi polloi.

Taking the time to posture,
exaggerate, brag, and stretch the truth.

It’s what every weekend is about, isn’t it?

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Happy Feb 14th.
D-dro, op o-u, T. (exclusive clever code for fans.bigbonton.org)

Be mindful about how you spend your time.
Hours become days, days become habits.

Photos show a touch of a blessed existence,
the bigbonton studio 2.14.2007 Rocks!

Lost Again, Yee-Haw.
Tonight for dinner?
. Fish and rice .
“Again?”
. Fish and rice and wine .
- So good and good for you!

Gulp good water when available.

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Photo supplied to studiobonton from a Top Secret Source.

A zero gravity Valentines experiment aboard space station Mir:

Don't ask how we came by the photo, it's Top Secret.
As a result of the experiment, Scientists learned to place the flowers alongside a blue-plate special fruit bowl in an semi-inspired arrangement. We stand shocked and awed at their tenacity to express on 2/14, even under the most adverse conditions.
Estimated cost of Valentines Card: $350 million dollars.

Mir, or Мир, can mean both world and peace in Russian.
It was humanity's first consistently inhabited long-term research station in space, orbiting for ten years minus eight days before it broke up over Australia, citing irreconcilable differences.

The cosmonauts and astronauts tried to send their Earth-bound Sweethearts a Valentines message, but their good intentions kept drifting away. The result, according to an orbital Keith Richards:
"First the sun and then the moon
One of them will be round soon
Slipping, Slipping away"

Government scientists were rushed in and this photo was the result.

(An exclusive online hint: Velcro!) <- shhh!

click on "continue reading" for more "slipping away" info

Continue reading "Мир. Fruit & Flowers from Leningrad" »

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Looking back at the past few Valentines Days, we've posted some rather sideways glances at the whole she-bang.
The glance was askance, other than “support your local florist".
archive Feb 05
archive Feb 06
For a glimpse at the V-Day archives, click on Feb 05 and Feb 06 then scroll down, since the earliest posts of the month are at the bottom.

Looking back through 2 seasons of emails on this topic, here are a few mental nuggets from the fan.bontons out there (including extremely Northern Europe and Oz Down Under):
• “I love pretty girls and miss them when they’re not around”.
• “... an arrow straight through the heart now I feel more alive.
• "... lost my free will, but I feel alive”
• “Cupid is real, it happened to me, I was slayed”
• “cupid rhymes with stupid for good reason!”
• “If I win, I win. If she wins, she wins and I feel like a winner”
• “... a Battle Royale of her voodoo vs. my mojo ”

Gee, so many uses of battle terms to describe relationships of the heart! Being conquered (I give up), hearts lost to the victors (You win again), caught an arrow straight to the heart (thud), winners, strategies, etc. Seems that falling in love requires a person to take a fall. A fall from grace? A decent from a better place?

Getting together is not always complicated but it can become a thorny bramble of roses. Maybe that's how the rose became closely associated with the work of cupids.

Another fan.bonton brings up an excellent point that it's an odd time of year to get a new sweetheart, asking “What’s the protocol for dropping the "L" word (Love-bomb) on a new sweetie when V-Day is coming? I want to keep it rolling forward but we’re still in the flirting stage. Maybe a bit further than flirting, you know. . . "

The advice-ee is in a quandary about feeling the thrill of a new crush, yet pressured about Valentines Day being an artificial deadline that's rushing the mating dance.
Timing is always so key to everything.

Show up on 2/14 empty handed and it’s a signal.
Disappear for the day on 2/14, that’s a signal.
Go overboard and that’s a warning!
Gushing a geyser of sweet emotions all over your new potential darling may leave things rather sticky. Down Boy! Easy Girl!
But a heart spark does need fuel and fanning if it is to get going.
Remember: Love is a verb, go at it with gusto!

Throwing money into the vaguely defined equation will not help your cause. Too many uncertain variables at this juncture. Save the cash-based statements of devotion for later when you know what to spend it on. People always need moola later on, regardless of how this new sweetie opportunity plays out. And apply the ol’ standard: KISS - keep it simple, stupid.

Any final certainty? Any resolution? Not from this keyboard, but a general rule is to fall back on the known factors:
"Support your local florist".
And keep it simple.
Sweet and simple, keep it sweet & simple as long as you can.
Along the lines of the playground protocol:

I like you.
Do you like me?
I__I Yes
I__I No

Warning: Try a note like this and
you'll get labeled "Forrest Gump".
The lesson from the playground is to
buck up and signal your intentions! Write it, spray it, twist & scrawl it, just don't expect anyone to read your mind.
Damn the torpedoes. Go get yourself blown out of the water.
Being a zombie of love beats being a bore.

Let's get ready to rumble!
"voodoo child" vs. "mojo"
Vegas bookies have the match this way:
"Lord knows I'm a voodoo child baby, I don't take no for an answer"
- will defeat -
"Got my mojo working, but it just won't work on you"
- in the first round -

click on "Continue reading"
for some lyrics of powerfully energetic emotions ->

Continue reading " From Normal to Zombie, just add Cupid" »

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Posted!
So we're into another quality year of showing you a picture and telling you a story.
Psst! Stay tuned for a major announcement from your bigbonton-opoly!

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Wow!
How did you know???
You shouldn't have . . . .
It's even two colors! And the colors are red and green!
Those traditional Christmas colors, both of them! Awww!

And look at that extra sponginess in the grip.
This will really come in handy-handy while washing your plates after cooking your meals.
This is really just perfect, thank you!

People can be so thoughtful this time of year.
This sponge came in an eight-pack, and this sponge is the best of the best. A real Christmas-y treat.

Even the gift presentation was special, it was thrown up-side my head with a flourish.
There was even a quick mention (a hint?) of the yellow and green sponge from the multi-pack being thrown up-side my head at Easter, but we'd better not get over excited.

Who could possibly be having a better Christmas!?

Meanwhile, some folks are still waiting for things previously mentioned to the world,
something about being heard and understood.

But with a brand new sponge like this, who bothers to think anything about higher level needs like someone to talk to while washing dishes? As long as I can just talk to Jesus! Happy Birthday Jesus! Although we know your birth date was not exactly December 25th, but anyway, Christmas is no time for truth. Or talking.

Meet the new Christmas, same as the old Christmas. '04, '05, '06, ... 'O Well . . .

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Happy Memorial Day '06
It's looking like it'll be a sunny Summertime.
Things are looking up,
Blue skys, nothing but blue skys, blue skys from now on . . .

Two serene photos in honor of all Airmen, Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Merchant Seamen and all the ships at sea.
Semper Paratus!
Semper Fi!

(photo is on the Atlantic facing north, not the Pacific facing south)

Memorial Day always reminds us of the Lost Coast in Northern Cal.
Hiking southward, wind always at your back (from the north), Pacific on your right, ocean cliffs on your left. It's a committment to get through the "lost" section of the trail since it's a 2 or 3 day trek with a point of no return.
This is the best time of year to go since you can still catch some Sierra Mountain snow melt for fresh water. Filter! Filter! It's a long way from High Sierra to sea level.
And here & now? The water is warmer on this side of the continent. Much more accessible.

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At night in the tent the sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs kept making us think the big one was rolling in to sweep us out to sea. Around 4AM a shore break had us sitting straight up out of a dozing slumber. As usual all the possible problems are just between our ears.

Continue reading "WildCat Camp for Easter" »

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A beautiful rose for you my darling Valentine.

I found an island in your arms,
a country in your eyes.
- The Doors -

One Love, One Heart
let's get together and feel alright
- Bob Marley-

If you would be loved, love and be lovable.
- Benjamin Franklin


How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach ...
[see complete version in comments]
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning -

Click for a look at the Looney Bulb 6 weeks later:

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"Looks like home, Tastes like home"

The 1st stop in the 3rd year of the Bonton Barbeque Tour of America!
That's right, 3rd year - 2004, 2005, 2006.
Q: . . . and what have You done with your life in the past 3 years?
A: Well, I went to as many BBQ places as I could and photoblogged them for the betterment of mankind. And for posterity, uh, for my legacy, you know . . . 9 states and 2 coasts so far".

We knew this place was good when we pulled into the parking lot behind a powerline truck, one of those big rigs with a bucket. They got to park anywhere they wanted.

There was a split wood pile on the side of the house so we inspected the premises before going inside. A smoke house is in the back with a big pile of wood waiting to be split after school by the son. This place really is a former residential dwelling, thus the slogan "looks like home, etc". Any Q joint you see with a tin roofed smoke house in back, well, just go in and hand over your money for a buffet.
Myers specializes in hickory and oak pit cooked BBQ & country cooking. My stomach is growling with fond memories.

The clientele was lunchtime landscaping crew, lineman, a table of "who knows what they do during the day", and one guy with his female better half. They were making plans, I think it was a honey-do list from her to him. He was going along with anything she said. Maybe she let him have some Q so she could get her way with him. Thank goodness for at least one female in the place, she classed up the joint with her ambition and all that.

Across the street is a large corporate building with a security gate. Whatever they do in there, I'm sure the cubicle dwellers daydream about opening a BBQ place like this one, right off the highway.
They have an all you can eat deal but not an actual buffet, you return to the front for a refill and they lay it on you with a smile. The Q was so good that I forgot about getting some Smoked Chicken! That's Smoked chicken, not BBQ chicken. Smoked chicken - imagine how tender and tasty that must be. Smoked Turkey is so good, wish I'd had some smoked chicken. . Right now, missing the smoked chicken feels like a greater loss than it did at the time, when I was full-up on 2 plates of Q. My stomach is growling (again).

When I realized I was too full to have the smoked chicken I began a sit down strike. The plan was to digest enough to try a sample of the smoked chicken. Just a mere morsel, a wafer thin slice. We hung out.
Their bulletin board includes many local celebrities, like some blues musicians that look like they've had a fairly easy life. After the lunch rush I was the only person in the place. The radio played Elvis singing "Kentucky Rain". Poor Elvis, he sings:
"I don't know why you've gone,
what you're running to, or from,
all I know is I want to take you home".
He rhymes "gone", "home", and "from" using an "uh" sound.
Everybody now give me an Elvis Uh-uh-Huh!
Uh-uh-Huh!

There wasn't much to talk about with the lady that was sweeping up and I think I made her self-conscious when I took a flash photo. She likes Elvis but didn't want to talk about The King just now, she was sweeping. When I mentioned that today, January 8th, is the Birthday of Elvis she seemed to have had enough, as if it weren't true.
Well it is true each and every year on January 8th!
So I got a gallon of tea ($4) to-go and left.

God as my witness, I shall return soon and I'll put a hurting on that smoked chicken, we're even planning on calling ahead to make sure they put a few yard birds on just for me.

Myers BBQ Restaurant and Catering
Gerald & Carolyn Myers, Owners
10324 Wilson Blvd. at I-77 & Hwy 21 N (Exit 24)
Blythewood, SC 29016
Hours Mon - Sat 11 - 9pm

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& the Birthday Boy Savior

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