Birthday Dinner and Bill Cosby
Monday, June 9th, 2008We had a birthday bash—well, “bash” might be a bit too strong of a word … a birthday binge might be a better description. My sister invited us all over for Mom’s dinner birthday … “and we did partake.” They had shrimp fettuccine and fresh-picked, grilled asparagus (pronounced aas-pah-RAY-gus, like in Looney Tunes). No joke, grilled. It was nummy beyond expectation. I mean, the fettuccine was really tasty, don’t get me wrong, but my bro-in-law outdid himself with that asparagus dish.
Anyway, after eating ourselves into a stupor (and oh and my what a well sated stupor it was) we plopped ourselves down in front of the Idiot Box and viewed a few things they had on their DVR. After watching bits of this and parts of that, we overrode all objections and got “Bill Cosby, Himself” put on.
Now, my kids have never seen or heard Mr. Cosby himself (not to be confused with “… Cosby, Himself”), but only my weak, partial renditions of The Chicken Heart, and Noah, and the like. I discovered him when I was about nine; my folks had some old LPs and I rooted around in the family storage shed (a.k.a., garage) and found their old turntable and stereo receiver. I nearly wore the grooves out of the vinyl. I had a cassette tape that was eventually at least 15% longer than originally manufactured, I played it so much.
Anyway, my kids seemed to get quite a kick out of Bill Cosby. I think this is an excuse to go buy some CDs. It’s a family building exercise, you see. 