No Runny Eggs

First things first (and added to as they roll in and I pick them up); there’s some more instant and not-so-instant replay over here, here, here (complete with some people I missed initially below; you’re not the only forgetful one, Patrick) and here (at least that’s all I had as of 9:50 pm Saturday night).… and here (as of 10:22 pm Saturday night)… and here and here (with the first Dennis York sighting in a couple months (through 7:38 am 6/4)… and here and here (updated 12:30 pm 6/4)… and here from the host and my blogfather and here (I should’ve waited a few minutes; these 2 came in by 12:50 pm 6/4)

Sorry about being a bit (well, an hour) late. ‘Tis what happens when your brain is still operating on fishing time :-)

Enough of that. The weather outside could not have been more delightful, and we had a gaggle of bloggers and family and even a pol or two Let’s see how many I can remember as I’m terrible with names (so if I forgot you, remind me); Chris with the Gruppenfuhrer, the Tsar and the Prince of Darkness, James and family, Owen with Wendy and their brood, Jib, Steve, the Asian Badger, Tom McMahon, Nick, Sean, Aaron (side note; Charlie, he’s dropped the “blogspot” from his address and Blogger gave his old BlogSpot.com address to somebody else), Tee Bee, The Western Chris, Bob Dohnal, Patrick, Fred and Mrs. RealDebate, Peter, Mike (or at least I thought he was there; he wasn’t able to leave his zip code), Phelony Jones, Kate (time to add to the roll again), Rep. Joel Kleefisch, and I think we had a Dennis York sighting (it’s a good thing he didn’t come as Pork this time; the grill was fired up again and again). Slipping my mind initially (thanks for the refresher, Patrick) were Kevin (who took time from being with the family as his father underwent heart transplant surgery), Elliot and Mrs. “Stearns”, Dean and Dad29.

As I said, I got in late, so the coals from round 1 were cooling off a bit. I got my brats on and just started to really get cooking when the host refreshed them. Meanwhile, I started socializing and downing the Spotted Cows and Mountain Dews. I got a couple shots in (sorry, I seem to be missing my USB cable, so they’ll be stuck on the camera until tomorrow at the earliest), got my brats done, and dug in. A Mark Green guy started passing out petitions (yes, it is time to get those signatures to make the fall ballots, and the last I heard, nobody was running against Nobody’s Senator), and Dohnal took his leave. Joel commented on how he liked even this humble little corner of the Cheddarsphere, a few others noted that I have been a bit less than regular with the posts. I had to apologize for the erratic nature of my postings (I did mention a while back when I tested the BlogFather™ Cement Overshoes that “Erratic” was my middle name). We got a group shot or so for Joel (of course, I avoided the other side of the lens like the plague ;-) before he left. The conversations and drinks continued non-stop.

Here’s an interesting tidbit from Steve for those of you not around (or at least not within earshot); back when he was flying jets for a company that charters jets for those with money, mainly rock/pop/country entertainers. Most of the folks that he flew around were great people (Jimmy Buffet came up as one of those), but there was an incident with a certain pop diva who will remain nameless. Seems she and her entourage chartered this company to fly her around on a tour, and one of the trips was from New York to Chicago. The flight was originally scheduled to leave New York at 9 am Eastern and get into O’Hare (that fact is key to this story; mash here for a taste of ORD ATC) to be greeted by the local press at 10:30 am Central. 9′ o’clock rolls around and no passengers. 9:30, same thing. There’s something important to know about going into O’Hare; you don’t just show up in the airspace and ask to land at one of the busiest places on the planet. You have a slot, and if you miss it, you’re screwed. The Citation X is a fast plane – in fact, it’s the fastest subsonic jet made today – but if he had to wait much longer, he wouldn’t make the slot he had. He finally got a hold of the hotel where this pop diva was at, and was told she left instructions to not be disturbed before noon. He told her people that she would be flying to Chicago commercial if that were the case, told his boss, and started to head to Chicago. She (or her people) got a hold of the boss (a fine Italian who, if he didn’t have that company, would have been a mob boss), who told her to meet him, Steve and the plane at the company’s home airport in New Jersey. Once there, he told her that if she ever did that again, she would be flying coach on United the rest of her tour, and that if Steve said the plane was leaving at 5 am, it was going to be wheels-up at 5 am. He then pulled some serious strings to get a new slot at O’Hare. Steve finished out the tour, and just to tweak her some, he did say they were leaving at 5 am at one of the stops.

Things didn’t start to slow down until somewhere around 4:50, when our host donned his throwback away Brewer jersey and tried to change the Brew Crew’s luck (unfortunately, Turnbow turned into the human gas can again). He turned things over to Jib, who left shortly thereafter. Eventually, it went down to Fred and his lovely wife, Patrick, Peter, Steve and me, and we broke things up shortly after 7.

When I find that USB cable, I’ll have my couple of pics up. Until then, I’ll continue to try to catch up on the shooting gallery that is Milwaukee, the hutzpah of Dane County Persecutor Brian Blanchard (who is so afraid he’ll lose on appeal he wants Jensen in prison while he appeals), and various other things I missed like the homegrown Canuck Islamokazi terrorist-wannabes that were picked up in southern Ontario as I was leaving the northwest part of the province.