Totally cosmic Lamar crows and ducks with pride (and moxie, see)

Now, without further ado, I give you pictures of the Lamar Days Parade. Imagine Amos waving a flag and a donut as the parade festivities went by. (He wasn't, but I'll let you devour that precious American moment with some Freedom Fries.)




"Children with Pride". Is that really all it takes to have float in a parade? Pride and a tiny mariachi outfit? As long as they were throwing out candy, I think it satisfied the needs of the Lamar parade watchers.

The biggest duck to ever have been stuffed at the local taxidermy office. Notice the bullet hole near the neck. Apparently, this duck was shot by Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox.

First, I heard music. Some sort of bluesy, classic rock situation. Then, I saw this guy: the creepiest, giant crow man I've ever seen playing a guitar. It's a little difficult to see his huge, creepy beak, but believe me, it's there. Rock on, The Crow.

This fire truck amused me. Just look at it. It has the daintiest steering wheel, and the cutest little basket for holding the fire hose. I can just imagine men in giant firemen hats from the 1920s driving through town like bats out of hell and talking like they are in a James Cagney movie.

"Say, there, see! There's a fire up ahead, don't ya know? Steer this vehicle to the moon and back, brother! Whaddaya know, whaddaya know, see?"

Last, but certainly not least... drum roll, please...

THE COSMIC NERDS OF THE 21ST CENTURY!!

I only caught a picture of the nerds holding the Pierre Auger Cosmic Ray Observatory banner. Believe you me, there was a whole army of astrophysicists behind these people.







To the moon and back, cosmo-juggernauts! Whaddaya whaddaya know, see?!

They came from the bed

Luckily, the Porter Three survived their trip to Lamar. This, despite the attempts of motel owners to enlist creatures to suck blood out of our unsuspecting bodies.

What the heck am I talking about?

Bed bugs.

BED BUGS!!!

Yeah, you heard me. BED BUGS. Creepy, nasty, crawling creatures who live to suck the life out of weary travelers at strange and stinky motel rooms. The words of the racist/patriotic American-owned motel owners came back to haunt us when we pulled back the sheets to discover a most horrifying sight that would make even the most hardened "Dateline" investigator with a black light faint to his knees. That was the moment when I told Phil, "We are not staying here. I think that is a very obvious understatement."

Here are the things we discovered in just one hour's time at The Motel de Creepies:

• bed bugs
• possible blood on the mattress
• suspicious yellow stains on the walls, remarkably urine-like in color
  
• air conditioner held onto the wall with duct tape
• large mold colonies on the ice cube tray in the refrigerator
• room smelled like a trucker drank PineSol, then peed it onto the walls
  
• bed bugs lived there long enough to have an entire life cycle then DIE
  
• window barely opened and seemed to have never been opened, preventing us from escaping
  
• pretty sure something died there (other than bed bugs). Dead hooker? Are there hookers in Lamar?
  
• possible peephole above the bed - spying hole to see trucker-on-trucker love?
  
• same wallhanging as American-owned motel, which aptly depicts some sorts of ruins
• part of the roof threatened to pull off at any moment in the crazy winds outside

Needless to say, we got the hell out of Dodge, er, that motel.

For the next few hours, we drank coffee and scratched our skin to the state of bleeding at the local McDonald's. Even though we were not personally infested, just the thought of bed bugs made us want to take a cheese grater to our outsides.

As the winds of Lamar whipped around us and sent paper, plastic, hopes and dreams scattered to the far corners, we marveled at how no matter where we went, we could not escape the astrophysicists in that town. Again, they were EVERYWHERE. The only place they didn't show up was to the Elks Lodge that night for Phil's comedy show. I guess if Phil and Bryan Kellen had added more cosmic ray jokes to their sets, we would have been flooded with nerds.

So, I stated previously that you should never bring kids to a comedy show. I wrote that just hours before I broke my own rule. Let's change that rule to say:


Do not bring kids to a comedy show UNLESS a motel room you are staying in is infested with bed bugs and forces you to either spend the evening chatting up McDonald's employees or attend the Elks Lodge comedy night.


How's that for a caveat? Amos had a great time watching his Daddy perform. Every time I asked Amos, "Where's Dada?" he would point to the ceiling. I finally figured out that Amos was pointing at the speaker in the ceiling directly above our heads. He could hear his Daddy's voice booming over him, but we were in the back of the big hall and too far away to see Phil clearly. Amos, therefore, is a genius. Take heed, nerds.

We drove as fast as we could to get out of Lamar that night. Alas, I did not wake up Sunday morning in Lamar, as sad as I'm sure you know that made me. Instead, I spent Mother's Day in the comforts of my bug-free home, smelling freshly picked lilacs from my backyard obtained by my dear spouse. Phil was also kind enough to put together a gorgeous photo album of our lives with Amos since he was born. Phil, therefore, is a genius and deserves a good romp in the sack.


Next up: The Lamar Days Parade with pics! I will not disappoint my new cosmic friends from Brazil.

Little Britches pancakes taste good with cosmic PineSol

Saturday: Little Britches pancakes taste good with cosmic PineSol.


As it turns out, Lamar is one happening place this weekend. We are in the midst of Lamar Days, a weekend full of events, a parade, pancake breakfasts, community college graduation, ham and bean dinners, carnival rides, and best of all: the Little Britches Rodeo.

We awoke with a hopeful gleam in our eyes, for today held promise of the Lamar Days Parade! Phil tried to negotiate another night of lodging from the American-owned motel proprietors, as they had screwed up our reservation and given up our second night's room to another rodeo/pancake breakfast/carnival enthusiast. The owners tried to set us up in more expensive rooms, but we aren't supposed to pay for our lodging. That was part of the booking deal for coming to Lamar in the first place. Part of their pitch is that, again, they are American-owned and "the cleanest motel in town, not like those foreigners." Phil and I were both left with a bad taste in our mouths at this awkward display of racism and patriotism.

Phil took a shower and packed up our American-owned belongings while I scooted Amos in the stroller toward the Lamar Days Parade. I took a bunch of pics, but alas, my card reader is not here. You'll just have to play along and wait for visuals in tomorrow's installment. I'll save my assessment of small town America for that blog. Lucky you!

After the parade, we dined at the fabulous Daylight Donuts. As we fed Amos and stuffed our pieholes full of fried dough, I stopped to whisper to Phil, "Look! The nerds are here!"

Luckily, the night before I had read up on an incredible event going on in Lamar, aside from the rodeos and parades. A giant parade of a different kind has invaded Lamar. The astrophysicists are here! A giant nerdfest has descended upon this small town. The Pierre Auger Observatory is being built in southeastern Colorado to study cosmic rays. Scientists from around the world are here to stand up for nerd rights and to build fluorescence telescopes in an array covering 35 by 35 miles. They even marched in the parade. In between floats full of boy scouts and the rodeo queen on horseback, those nerds took to the street with their banner and their cosmic knowledge. It brought a tear to this former scientist's eye.


The thing is, everywhere we went there were nerds. Amongst the donut eaters: nerds. Complaining about their taco salads at Taco John's: nerds. Filling up yellow school buses: nerds. Everywhere! Imagine a town of cowboy hat-wearing farmers suddenly invaded by emaciated geeks with glasses, and you've got your visual. It's sort of like what happened in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, but not.

Not to brag, but at Taco John's we were sitting next to a bona fide star of the Little Britches Rodeo. We know so because of his hat, his boots and spurs, and his jacket which proclaimed "National Little Britches." Indeed, his pants were quite small.

So, eventually we discovered that new lodgings had been provided for us at another motel. As we were warned previously, this motel is definitely foreign-owned. We chuckled that at least we wouldn't be forced to listen to racist rhetoric about how filthy "the foreigners" are.

Hmm. Well...

Let's just say that this room has seen better days and that despite their callous regard for folks from foreign shores, the American-owned motel definitely rates as being cleaner. In a scene from a bad sitcom, first I complained that we were told that the TV was broken. "No TV?!" I said to Phil. "You're not the one who must stay indoors tonight. What if the nerds attack?" So, Phil asked for another room. In a stunning move, the motel owner instead decided to give us her personal television.

So kind!, you say. Well... Installation of said television took half an hour, three people, and a great deal of restraint on my part not to laugh out loud at their bumbling. The owner mistook us for being a few of the cosmic nerds, so I guess we were getting the star treatment. Even the handyman said that he had never seen the owner give that much personal service to a room before. The room, however, smells like we are inside a bottle of PineSol. This might be because there is a distinct possibility that there is a dead hooker between the mattresses. But, it's a free room, we're near the Quizno's, and we have someone else's television. Not bad.

Now, I just need to make sure that the locks work. You can't be too careful with the possibility of a clash between astrophysicists and Little Britches. Is there a telescope for studying those kinds of particles?

Steers and basil. Start computin'.

I don't even know where to start. Let me wipe the laughter-filled tears from my eyes...


So, yes. We are in Lamar, Colorado. Home of the Savages and a gas-station-turned-used-car-dealership full of petrified wood. This has shaped up to be one of the most bizarre weekend adventures we've ever taken. Let's recap the last 24 hours.



Friday: Steers and basil. Start computin'.

We arrived last night at our home away from home, the Holiday Hotel, just before Phil's show. As Phil checked us in, I watched two cowboys practicing their roping skills on a metal "steer" in the parking lot. They saw me watching, then the emboldened buckaroos began to put on quite a show. It's not often you get the chance to see bumbling rodeo antics at a motel. A most excellent start to the trip so far.

Amos and I stayed at the motel while Phil and Bryan Kellen put on their best show for the lackluster crowd full of adults and kids. It may surprise you, but having kids at a comedy show is not really the best idea a parent has ever had. It completely throws off the show, and the comedians must clean up their acts even more than they thought they needed to do. And, there's nothing like a toddler wandering up on stage to make the night go better. So, heed this advice: don't ever bring kids to a comedy show.

Meanwhile, I attempted to find the Internet service as advertised on the motel's sign (alongside the phrase "American-owned"). I asked the front desk about the high-speed connection. Response: "Well, you turn yer computer thing on and start computin'. That's how it works."

Yes, indeed.

Dinner last night was at Thai Spicy Basil, the last bastion of hope for an alternative dining experience from fast food. Apparently, we arrived at closing time. The last patrons left, and we remained as a couple with a baby being stared at threateningly by the staff who wanted to leave. I have never eaten that fast in my life. The food was disappointing and not nearly full of spice or basil as promised. I guess I can't expect fine dishes in the middle of nowhere. We finished our meal when the music was turned off by one menacing staff member, as if we had walked into a saloon and the jukebox came to a screeching halt. Thank you for the welcome, Lamar.

We capped off our night just as anyone visiting a small town should. We toured the Super Wal-Mart. Later, as the intense winds of the plains whipped and tore at our bags full of bargains, we said goodnight under the harsh lights of our American-owned motel.


Next up, stay tuned for: Wave your flag. Little Britches pancakes taste good with cosmic PineSol.

Sing a plain(s) song

To the open prairie we go. I'd rather say that we're headed for the hills, but alas, we venture toward the empty vastness of the Colorado plains.

Why? Excellent question.

Phil has a two-nighter in Lamar, Colorado this weekend (he's a stand-up comedian, if you didn't know that already). That means we head straight for Kansas then divert south toward Oklahoma and Texas. There is no other reason to go there unless someone is paying you to do it, or you are getting the hell out of the state. Dollars lure us, so we are battening down the hatches and preparing the horses for a long, boring journey.

If Internet exists in southeastern Colorado, I'll give you a holler. I can't guarantee anything. It might still be 1945 there.

Did I mention that I'll wake up Mother's Day morning - my FIRST Mother's Day EVER - in Lamar, Colorado, home of the Savages? Yeah. I feel your jealousy.

On a side note, this here thingamajig called Imaginary Binky is featured as the first blog in today's installment of Five Star Friday. Woohoo! Five Star Friday bills itself as a collection of the best of what's being thought and said on the Web. Please visit the site and read the other incredible blogs that made the cut.

While I'm tootin' mah horn, this here blog contraption also made the cut for Alltop. Yay! Woo! Ding dang! Alltop is a collection of, as they say, all the top stories. I am in the Moms division, alongside some of the loveliest ladies you ever will cross your mouse wires with on Ye Olde Internet. I found some great blogs on the other topics, too. Be a good kid and visit some of those establishments as well.

Ya hear?

Have a good one, folks. Time to put on my bonnet. I'll meet you at the watering well.