the adventures of ernie bufflo

things magical and mundane


I’m back! Sorta!

As you notice below: I’m posting to this blog again!

We’ve moved from South Carolina to Little Rock, Arkansas. We’re starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel of boxes.  Jon’s already working. The dogs are finding new napping spots and interesting things to bark at, including the elderly basset hound next door and the cat who seems to belong to the neighborhood– we hear her name is Princess– and the Highland Cow hide our neighbor has hanging over our fence, looking like the pelt of Chewbacca.

Posting may still not be regular, as the internet won’t be hooked up at our house until the 12th and for some reason, all of our neighbors have password-protected networks.  Right now I’m posting from a Starbucks. I came here for the free wi-fi to apply for a job with a very cool nonprofit (fingers crossed), and decided to post that rambling thing below about Independence Day, which I wrote sort of for myself this morning but decided to go ahead and publish.

I’ve missed you, Internets!

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this is just to say

This is just a quick post to say there might not be any posts for a while.  Saturday is move day, and it might be a while after we get settled in before I can resume posting.  Please think happy thoughts and send up prayers for a smooth move, if you’re so inclined.

As a random bonus, I totally got this post’s title off a poem by William Carlos Williams:

This Is Just To Say

by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


FLOTUS and cleavage

I’m just asking for bizarre Google searches with two posts that mention boobs in one day, but I had to throw this up here.  Apparently Glenn Beck and Matt Drudge are trying to cause a kerfuffle because they believe Michelle Obama is disgracing America with her slightly-cleavage-revealing attire at a recent state dinner.  Before you go assuming she looked like J.Lo in that Versace dress, here’s what FLOTUS wore that has caused the uproar:

Image via the

Beck said on his radio show: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the first lady with her breasts all smooshed up, I mean, what is that?”

My first thought was, really? Does Glenn Beck even know what the fashions were in the late 18th and early 19th Centuries, back when his heroes, the Founders, were still around?  Because seriously, get a look at the racks on some of these first ladies:

First Lady Dolley Madison, with her "breasts all smooshed up." Image via

Thomas Jefferson's daughter, who acted as official hostess while he was in office, wears a pretty low-cut gown here. Image via

This is Helen Taft's inaugural gown. I'd imagine it showed some cleave. A Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike (2.0) image from kubina's photostream

Even Eleanor Roosevelt got into the deep-V action! Image via

Is that some cleavage I see on Mamie Eisenhower? Image via

I mean, I know it’s not even necessary to bother to point out how ridiculous Glenn Beck is, but geez. C’mon.

today’s post is somewhere else

Through Twitter I’ve come in contact with Ryan Byrd, the pastor of a new church in Little Rock called Eikon.  I’ve been reading Ryan’s blog and the posts on Eikon’s website, and getting pretty excited about the kind of community they are and the things they are up to, thinking they’re the kind of group I might like to be a part of after we move to Little Rock.  Anyway, all these internet connections have led to me having a post up on their site as part of a new blog series called CityView.  So, go check out my post, about how my faith makes me an environmentalist and a foodie!


i’m hunting for unicorns

There’s not going to be a new blog post today, and posting might be spotty for the next few days (there will be a CSA update tomorrow) because I’m hunting a rare beast: a house in Little Rock to rent, within 5 miles of Arkansas Children’s Hospital, that allows me to live there with my 2 large mutts and has a fenced-in yard. I’m starting to fear we’re going to end up living in a tent. I hope it doesn’t come to that.

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we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming…

…for a quick announcement: there’s not gonna be a new blog post today. Yesterday, I wrote my brains out. You see, I’ve been taking a grad class on the Harlem Renaissance and the Black Arts Movement, and I was just SURE that my final paper was due next Monday. I’d done most of the reading, but hadn’t written a lick since I turned in my 3-page precis a few weeks ago. Usually, most of my writing process takes place in my head, as I’m doing the research, and I just sit down to write and pour it all out, so I knew a week would be plenty of time to turn out a good paper.  If there’s anything my undergrad degrees in English and political science taught me, it’s that I can write 3-4 pages per hour, no problem.

But then I showed up to our last class yesterday and realized papers were due. WHAT?! I knew I had to get home and get writing and try to get the darn thing done that day. And I did it. I wrote the fastest paper I’ve ever written: 15 pages in 5 hours. It’s not a masterpiece of fine editing, but it’s a paper incorporating Lacanian psychology, geo-physical theory, and theology to analyze Nella Larsen’s Harlem Renaissance novel Quicksand.  I got it emailed to my prof by 7:00 pm, and sincerely apologized for not having it ready to turn in during class. I have no idea if this will mean points off my grade, but I guess the beauty of being a non-degree student is my world won’t be crushed if I don’t make an A.

So, I used up my words yesterday, and I just used up more telling you why these words in this space aren’t more interesting. See ya tomorrow.

what it’s like to be married to me

Image via Flickr user MonsieurLui under a Creative Commons license.

Last night I may or may not have delivered a soliloquy on the word “vulva” to my husband while he was trying to read. That’s what it’s like to be married to me.  I’ll make you chocolate whiskey pots de creme on a weeknight, but you might have to endure my monologues (aka rants) on occasion. I hope the trade-off in chocolate and other delicious foodstuffs is worth it.


new look

If you’re not reading this in a reader, you might notice that the adventures of ernie bufflo has a new look! Much as I love actual buffalo, I decided I wanted something more fun, girly, and colorful. So I have decided that my ernie bufflo alter ego is a cowgirl.  Whaddaya think?

Edited: So. Before today, I had never heard of The Pioneer Woman, which is apparently shocking because she’s apparently famous. As a result, after I Google Image Searched “vintage cowgirl” upon having my cowgirl idea this morning, I found the image I was using as a header on a site that collects vintage cowgirl pinups. I thought it was adorable, it reminded me of a vintage cowgirl wallet I rocked in high school, I went with it.  Turns out I was jacking The Pioneer Woman’s steez (which, I apparently do all the time, as in my CSA cooking days, I joke about being a pioneer).  Now that I have been alerted, I have selected a different vintage cowgirl. I hope this prevents it from looking like I’m copying her on purpose.  That said, her blog seems wonderful, and I’ll be reading it from here on out.

and they call it puppy love

Last night I was in a bit of a funk. Sitting on the couch, I announced to Jon, “I’m feeling a little bummed out.”  A few seconds later, he called out, “Ollllllive!” I thought he heard her barking in the back yard or something.  She came running eagerly out of the bedroom, and I said, “She was asleep! Why did you call her?” He replied, “To cheer you up! That’s her job!”  And she did. She licked and snuggled me into a better mood.  I guess it is her job.  Bessie is the most loyal dog around, but she sort of wants me to stop trying to cuddle her already, can’t you see she’s trying to nap here?  Olive, on the other hand, is a lovah.  She’s the snuggle pup I always wanted, and she’s the perfect cure to feeling bummed out.  My furry Valentine.

Updated to include a poem I had forgotten about, but was reminded of while chatting with my friend Stacy.

Falling in love is like owning a dog
by Taylor Mali

First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don’t you ever do that again!

Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise.
It runs you around the block and leaves you panting.
It pulls you in several different directions at once,
or winds around and around you
until you’re all wound up and can’t move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.

on budgeting

Image via Flickr user get directly down, under a Creative Commons license.

Last night, Jon and I went to the liquor store to restock on wine.  As we were leaving with 5 bottles, we had the following exchange.

Jon: Now we have no money to eat.

Me: At least we have our priorities straight!

(Tip: I’m obsessed with Mendoza Station Argentinian Malbec lately. It’s $6 a bottle at my liquor store, but it tastes way more expensive than that. Check it out!)


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