Juanuchis' Way

Important Message

2010-07-22T19:10:00.003-04:00

Not sure what the message is, exactly. But it's important.

The Joys of Summer ...

2010-07-10T17:32:00.007-04:00

... come long and green. No. I do not mean zucchini. I mean that glorious heirloom, half-runner (pole) beans. I grew up on these, and I swear, West Virginia is the only place one can still find them. They're not "gourmet" in the sense of those lovely, thin green beans one either blanches or stir-fries for crisp-tenderness. Oh, no. Half-runners have to simmer for a looooooooong time and get tender, nearly mushy. They are some country goodness, let me tell you. If you've never had them, well then, you are missing heaven in a pot.

Ready for seasonings...

Seasonings: a couple plum tomatoes (that were nearly to spoil), bacon (mmmmm), half an onion, black pepper. Cover with water and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer for a couple hours. I don't add salt right away, but after about an hour and adjust as it goes. Remember, you can always add salt, but you can't take away!

I also made my first harvest today! Two Japanese eggplants, and two tiny cayenne peppers (which I think would make darling earrings).

I found a recipe for Japanese eggplant that is spicy and uses Thai basil, which I have. May have to do an Asian theme tomorrow. Jeez, I wish David loved spicy food. I hate cooking two versions of a recipe.

I'm optimistic that I'll actually get some tomatoes this year. The plants look great, I have lots of flowers now and several fruits. I have two tomatillo plants, and from all appearances, I will be awash in tomatillos:

That's ok, I plan on making and canning some salsa.

How does your garden grow?

Juanuchis' Way Goes to Granny Bland

2010-07-04T20:32:00.005-04:00

Today we saddled up and went to Weston to celebrate the Fourth, and remember Dad. Yours truly was the appointed grillmeister, and I had in mind beer-can chicken. May I have a NOM?

My nephew Nathan was on hand for grilling assistance. Some years ago, David & I bought Mom & Dad a Kenmore gas grill to replace the old one that was literally 30 years old and falling to bits. Now, I grill all year 'round, caring naught about snow. We have a Weber Genesis Silver-B which is probably 8 years old, and which I've taken apart several times for thorough cleanings. (I think I'm to the point where I'll have to replace the gas burners, but that's for another day.) The point being, I know how long the Weber takes to heat, how fast I can adjust the temp, where I can hold the temp, where are the hot spots, and where I can put the wood to smoke.

Anyway, Mom's Kenmore heats up fast and hot, and adjusting the burners takes some doing. I had my wood chunks bound up in foil, but they caught fire anyway. I fiddled and fooled, got the fire contained, and then had to attack the fire again. I had to take off the side grate, and dig out the flaming chunks. Nathan brought a small pan and put the chunks, now smoking, back into the abyss. We worked well together, and I said we should be a cueing team. :)

Here's the ol' hen once the fire was contained. You can see the roasting pan with the chunks on the left. It's a tad fuzzy cuz I took the pic with my phone and my eyes were burning from all the smoke.

Here's the recipe: Beer Can Chicken with Cola Barbecue Sauce

Weston, WV has a long history of July 4th celebration. We must have the Fireman's Parade, wherein fire departments from around the state show up, parade, and then go to the athletic field at (now) Robert L. Bland Middle School to do battle before night falls and the fireworks begin. I did note that not nearly as many departments showed up this year. Not Elkins ... they have the only BLUE freakin trucks that I know of. We've had departments as far away as Moorefield, Petersburg, I think even Doddridge and Ritchie Counties, Glenville ... Definitely it's a smaller contingent this year. But not a smaller noise. Dayum! Poor Gunner (great-nephew):

I didn't take near enough photos, because I was cookin'. But Gunner is the SWEETEST little boy, and so damn smart. He loves his Aunt Janis' iPhone with the iFart. "Do it again! I wanna do it again!"

Happy Birthday, Dad

2010-07-03T20:29:00.004-04:00

I have often thought what the hell Mom & Dad were thinking when I came along, 12 years after my last sibling. Mom was 40 and Dad 45 when I was born, in 1963. Whatever possessed them?! Mom recently told me that she thought of having yet another baby to keep me company. I recall, when I was about 30, Dad told me I was an "accident". I took no offense. I always thought Mom knew what she was doing, and Dad probably thought he was gettin' lucky. Dad and I didn't always get along. In fact, when I was in my teens and early college, I was distraught. Mom finally told me that the reason we clashed is that we were exactly alike. I suppose that's true. Physically I'm nearly a carbon copy of Dad (although as I've aged, I have more of Mom's characteristics). Today dad would have been 93. I'm finding out more about him now that he's passed. More to come on that, perhaps. But for now, I simply miss him.

Thank you, Senator

2010-06-28T17:19:00.003-04:00

I really cannot add to internet buzz on the death of our, West Virginia's, own institution, Robert C. Byrd. A Facebook friend posted this:

Robert Byrd has passed away, and Cheney has left the hospital. Discuss.

Doesn't seem quite right, does it?

And his opposition to the Iraq war was prescient:

Adventures in Deck Maintenance

2010-06-26T18:38:00.009-04:00

We had initially planned to go to Petersburg, WV today for a train fair. However, since our deck was in dire need of maintenance, we opted for that instead. David had pressure-cleaned the deck about three weeks ago, and I was despairing that we'd get it fit for guests by Veterans' Day at the rate we were going.

So we had breakfast, went to Lowe's and returned with semi-transparent cedar deck stain, and began our travails about 12:30. Fact: 90°F. Fact: deck dimensions 12' x 42'. Fact: application of said stain accomplished with roller and brush. Accessories: Diet Coke, ice water, ice tea, and 800mg of ibuprofen. I came in at 4:30 to shower and deal with the dogs, who were completely distraught at having been ignored all day. Bruno started the chorus several times during the afternoon from his perch on the back of the couch. David finished about 5.

When he came in, he announced that duh, we had a paint sprayer thingy that is designed to be used with our modestly-honkin' air compressor. Fancy that.

The line of discoloration is where the hot tub sat last year, so that area actually has the cedar color now. The rest of the deck is darker, because the last time we stained it (4 years ago now I think) we did the redwood thing. Ugh. As it turns out, the vertical rails don't seem too weathered, so David can probably touch them up with the compressor sprayer thingy. We stained the horizontal top rails.

It was so hot that I started out with wearing a baseball cap. David insisted I needed more protection, so I ended up wearing the Colombian sombrero vueltiao. It sure helped!

¿Aha y tu que?

The sombrero back where it should be, with a Colombian scarf and a corner balconcito.

If I don't sleep well tonight, something's very wrong! But at least this week I can arrange the deck so we can entertain next weekend.

Adventures in carpentry

2010-06-21T21:13:00.004-04:00

Last year we bought a (supposedly) Amish-made swing. We hung it on our front porch from the existing swing hooks. Alas, even though the swing wasn't that wide, it scraped the side of the house.

So this year, we sought to get an A-frame support for the swing. What we found were either well-made but ridiculously expensive, or crap and overpriced. So, I set about to find A-frame plans. The only think I could find that was free is from "BuildEazy".

So armed with these plans, David got the materials for just under $100. He foundered a bit while doing this, but like with any plan, once it's done, it can be easily done again.

He did a bang-up job. We have a sturdy support for our swing and our fat asses.

Now, the problem is moving it to the deck. This damn thing weights a TON!

Happy 147th!

2010-06-20T16:13:00.005-04:00

Happy birthday, West Virginia! In honor of this august day, below is a repost from 2008, with a couple photos of my hometown, Weston.

The Louis Bennett home, now the Louis Bennett Public Library

The tombstone of Louis Bennett, Jr. at Weston's Machpelah Cemetery

From my 2008 blog entry:

Louis Bennett Jr. was a WWI flying ace. His actual headstone reads: "Lieutenant Bennett: 40th Squadron Royal Air Force was shot down in flames "over the lines" on August 24th, 1918, after he had destroyed two German observation balloons, his record August 15th to 24th, being 3 enemy planes, 9 balloons destroyed, 4 in one day, for which he was recommended for the Distinguished Flying Cross. The Germans buried him with military honors at Wavrin, near Lille, France, where a memorial church in his honor was dedicated on August 24, 1919."

This from my (late) father, George:

If anyone out there is interested, I highly endorse a booklet by Otis and Betty Reed entitled "The Building of the Jonathan McCally Bennett Mansion in Weston". I believe you can purchase a copy from Friends of the Louis Bennett Public Library. In the first paragraph of this outstanding piece of Weston's history, the authors write:

"Jonathan McCally Bennett (1814-1887) must be counted among the most able persons to hail from Lewis County. Accomplished and energetic, he was a lawyer of consummate skill, a king-maker among politicians, and a masterful financier who made a fortune in real estate before the Civil War. He then lost his property through serving the South - only to regroup and build a second fortune on the remnants of the first. Along the way he involved himself in such public benefactions as banks, hospitals, schools and railroads."

The Reeds also inform us that Jonathan administered considerable clout in obtaining the building of our historical edifice, then titled "Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum". Anyway. after he died, his mansion went to one of his sons, Louis, who married a young well-heeled lady by the name of Sallie Maxwell from Wheeling.

Sallie is what this anecdote of mine is about. I was most fortunate to have known her in my childhood. She and my parents were great friends, and we would periodically visit her in her Court Avenue mansion when she was briefly home from one of her jaunts to New York or abroad. She was not a small-town person. She was a world traveler, and a painter by preference. After she gave the mansion to Lewis County, for many years the second floor displayed a number of her original oil paintings.

My brother and I always looked forward to our visits, because Sallie would give us the run of the house with its multiple floors, hidden stairways and closets. We would have great times playing hide and seek - sometimes throwing caution to the winds by sliding down the stairway banisters.

Sallie had two children, a girl, Agra, and a son, Louis, Jr. Louis Bennett, Jr. was the apple of her eye, and being the only son, was spoiled at a very early age. He was only twelve when his parents presented him with an automobile and a motorcycle. In spite of such attention, he had a host of friends. Not surprisingly, he attended private schools and graduated from Yale. Being mechanically inclined, and of daring demeanor, he early on became attracted to flying. WWI had begun, and at the time the USA had not yet entered. Young Louis, however, was impatient and was anxious to shoot down Huns. He, therefore, enlisted in the RAF in Canada, and was promptly shipped over to participate in the War. He didn't last long, but long enough to be ranked as the No. 10 Allied Ace. Some say he was shot down by the famous Red Baron, but this is probably not the case. In any event, Sallie spent some years trying to track down his body. It was ultimately found, and his grave at Macpelah Cemetery in Weston is topped by a magnificent statue delineating a pilot in a WWI airman's uniform, behind him an angel possessed of a mighty pair of wings, and on his right, a huge marble cross.

Some time after Louis, Jr's. death, Sallie formed a Club called "The Lt. Louis Bennett League". It was made up of a couple of dozen men who had personally known the principal, or were descendants of families closely connected with him. My brother, myself and three first cousins were members of the League. The Club met annually with Sallie in the meeting room on the second floor of the Bennett mansion, now the Louis Bennett Public Library. She always stayed for a few days in the main suite of the Camden Hotel (now United Bank) on the second floor corner of the building.

Those meetings were usually hilarious. Sallie would preside behind a table facing the group, with the officers, three cousins, Charles Bland, Linn Mapel Brannon and Edwin Bailey from Clarksburg. These guys were of mischievous bent, and knowing Sallie was stone-deaf, would make all sorts of weird sounds and funny faces as she was speaking - trying their best to make us onlookers laugh. Sometimes a few of us could not control ourselves. Whereupon she would wonder aloud what we were laughing at.

On one of those annual meetings, the Club took itself to Jackson's Mill and conducted a ceremony in celebration of a new landing strip called "The Lt. Louis Bennett Field".

During the period that I was stationed at Manhattan Beach, Brooklyn, during WWII, I went on liberty and visited Sallie at her apartment, "One 5th Ave". We had a nice visit, and only about 10 days later she died. She was a most exceptional lady.

Incidentally there is a large stained glass window on the Southwest end of Westminster Abby. In it are hosts of angels representing flying aces in both World Wars. One of the faces is a likeness of Lt. Louis Bennett, Jr.

GBJR

Daeji Bulgogi

2010-06-19T19:52:00.012-04:00

The recipe is here: Daeji Bulgogi

This was SO damn good. I was disappointed that the website didn't have photos. I was so convinced that this was da bomb that I took photos.

You can look up the recipe with the link above. Here are the steps to nominess:

Sambal Oelek. Nomalicious. This particular one is the same importer as the nomalicious sriracha sauce, Huy Fong. Did I mention "Nom"?

Spicy marinade ingredients before combining. Doesn't that sambal oelek look righteous? It's cuddling the red pepper flakes, that rascal.

The sweet hotness, or the hot sweetness, but to. Die. For.

A 1# pork tenderlion, trimmed, wrapped in plastic and in the freezer till firm (not frozen), and cut into thin slices. The recipe calls for 1/16" slices, but, hey, I cuts 'em maybe 1/8" or so. It doesn't matter, as you will see. Anyway, marinate the pork in the above nominess for at least an hour, preferably more.

On to the grill the marinated pork goes. I have a thingy that is good for veggies and fish, and thinly sliced meat evidently. I liberally sprayed it with cooking spray, and put the porks thereupon:

I picked some lettuce leaves from my lettuce pot to make bulgogi wraps. I also made a spicy cuke salad:

Gently heat 1/2 cup each of white vinegar, water and sugar, with a dash of salt, until the sugar dissolves. Cool. Add peeled, seeded and thinly sliced cuke, thinly sliced red or sweet onion, diced hot pepper or flaked red pepper. Chill. I added thinly sliced red radishes. Awe. Some.

AWE. SOME.

Raising the Stakes

2010-06-19T17:32:00.006-04:00

Dayum it was hot today! Nevertheless I went out to tend to my meager garden. My tomatoes desperately needed to be staked, although the plants do look pretty healthy and sturdy. They were hard to stake because they'd already started to gangle out, but I caught them before they started laying roots as they crept. Remember people, tomatoes are VINES! I had caged one of my tomatillo plants a week or so ago, and it has recovered. I shoved the other into a cage today, and I'm not sure it will survive. One of the main stems was bent and stressed, but I hope it comes around. I also have a Japanese eggplant plant, and I have a teeeeeeny eggplant fruit coming on, and another two flower buds! The buds are very pretty too, a pale purple like the fruit.

In the midst of this little plot, all kinds of stuff is popping up. I won't weed it, other than the ubiquitous dandelions (which aren't nice and tender and worth harvesting), because I tossed out seeds and there seem to be, I hope, flowers emerging.

In the upper right corner of the photo is my little herb plot: Italian parsley, mint, oregano, chives and thyme. I stopped by Tractor Supply and got two sage plants for 50¢ each! I also got a nice Thai basil at Wal-mart, which is to the left of the sage plants. It was so damn hot that I decided to wait till tomorrow to plant them, just because I was tired of dealing with the tomatoes in the heat.

I also got one of those "Topsy-Turvy" tomato things on sale at Tractor Supply. I'm not convinced they actually work worth a shit, so I may dig up one of my tomatoes in the little side bed (where my beans and peppers were eaten), or just jam it with herbs. Goodness knows, I have lots of basil:

I'll move 'em into bigger pots. If they stay robust, I'll be making and freezing pesto.

I really wish I had more time for gardening and farming. I hate working in an office. Hateithateithateit.

Muzzlepuffs!

2010-06-19T08:27:00.002-04:00

Redecorating

2010-06-18T20:25:00.004-04:00

It's nice to see that Blogger has come up with some new templates, in fact adding a "design" option to its blog customization.

So, I've fooled around with it a bit, and settled on this decor for the moment. What do you think?

I'm jealous at some of the other Blogger sites, where the owners seem to have managed to customize, or hired someone to customize, their blogs. I'm of the mind that less is more, but I want something more personalized.

I'm also bored. Bored with my current blog and its template. Bored with ... things. Well. I'm a bachelorette this weekend, so I do have some things to do:

1. Weston shit

2. Stake tomatoes

3. Arrange the craft/sewing room

4. Make daeji bulgogi

Oh. First on the list should be: COLOR HAIR.

Joe-Pye

2010-06-11T19:41:00.001-04:00

Thy name is BLARGH.

June 6, 1944

2010-06-06T18:11:00.006-04:00

Today is the 66th anniversary of the Allied troops storming the beach at Normandy. I'm sure the film "Saving Private Ryan" may have best encapsulated the horror of that day. And I will continue to extol the quality of the series, "Band of Brothers". Everybody's DVD library should have this series.

In the summer of 1983, I had the opportunity to study at the University of Exeter in the UK. While there, I had the great fortune to be in Normandy during the D-Day remembrances (June 6th fell on a Monday). I was awed by the still-pockmarked beach, where tourists were kept to paths lest unexploded ordinance was still present. The pillboxes were eerie. The cemetery is humbling.

Our little group found a bread-and-breakfast arrangement late in the evening in Point-du-Hoc. The French family was delightful, and insisted on making us a multi-course meal. Oh. My. The bread. I discovered the glories of mussels steamed in white wine and garlic. I was the only one who ate them, as I recall. I kept eating.

Sometime in the evening, when we were out on a walk, we encountered a very drunk American, who had been on the beaches 39 years before. He was in tears, remembering the day, his friends. I am sure he was cared for that evening.

I am no war expert or historian, but I'm sure it would be hard to argue that warfare has changed since WWII. I will suggest that since WWII, perhaps the conflicts fought by the US weren't as necessary as was WWII. All war is odious, but I believe WWII was necessary for the US to enter. No one has presented the overarching threat that Hitler did. And between Europe and the Pacific theatre, that the US managed to mobilize its industry as it did, is unprecedented.

I didn't have family in the D-Day invasion, but my two uncles on my mother's side fought in Europe and the Pacific (my Uncle Jim was wounded in the Battle of Saipan). Dad was in the Coast Guard and had a world tour thanks to Uncle Sam. He didn't see combat, but I believe had hearing loss from the guns aboard ship. His brother, Uncle Rus, was Army Air Corps.

Maybe it's because I was born so late, 12 years after the youngest sibling. Mom was 40, Dad 45 when I was born. So I guess I listened to stories and recollections that makes me feel like WWII was in my era. Maybe I died in battle too, and my affinity is a past life coming through. I have no idea.

But I am humbled by the sacrifices made by these men whose graves dot the countryside. May they rest in peace.

Needs framing

2010-06-05T18:01:00.003-04:00

This I found at Mom & Dad's last year. It desperately needs stretching and framing. It's an oil painting done for Dad from a family friend, Jordi. On the back it says "A George con afecto Jordi". I'm not sure how old it is, since it's undated alas, but I'm guessing 1980's maybe. I'm not sure why it got overlooked, but I'm honored to have it now.

Where to start?

2010-06-05T16:55:00.016-04:00

The only way I can stave off despair is trying to focus on what I can control. I can't control the ghastly disaster unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico. I cannot look at the helpless creatures mired in petroleum muck without crying. I cannot think charitably about BP or its CEO, any more than I can about Massey Energy and that bufo toad Blankenship. China executed two managers involved in the tainted milk scandal that killed 6 children and sickened some 300,000. Hm. Maybe Hayward and Blankenship should consider themselves lucky.

I should stop reading news feeds of any inclination. I hold no stock in the Book of Revelation, for two reasons: 1) it was written in and for a particular time, long past, and 2) if it, and other biblical prophets might, might, be right, it is only a possibility. God gave us free will, and the dire prophecies do not have to happen if humankind is wise enough to choose rightly. Alas, fundamentalists - Christian, Jewish and Muslim - are trying their damnest to make prophecy come true. In my own country, there is no sane political discourse. We are dangerously close to another civil war. In fact, we may be already in one, one of words and invective, though thankfully, not one of arms -- yet.

My take is this: we have been poor stewards of this planet, our only home. There are over 6 billion of us, dare I say, MAGGOTS, cramming the planet. The Gulf disaster is only a drop in the bucket, I imagine, to the sins against the Earth that have gone unreported. Forget Revelation. I firmly believe Mother Earth is a living organism, and we have become parasites. I can't blame Her for shaking us off. We deserve it.

That said, here's what I can control: what the hell do to with my studio in the basement. It's a disaster. I have shit falling out the closet, trying to organize it into piles for eBay, yard sale, keep and pitch. Too many books. The basement studio contains my painting stuff and my paper arts stuff. Over the last few months, a goodly amount of my paper arts stuff ended up on the main level. I'm not sure how that happened. But they ended up in the Miscellany Room, that is, where the parrot and Gleason's crate are, as well as the beverage fridge and retro Singer sewing machine. And the litterbox. Yay. And outdoor furniture waiting to return to the deck. Someday.

After I sold the desk/secretary combo, I had to unload it. It had been in the Miscellany Room, but for the past month the contents have been on the dining room table:

I have a shitload more paper arts stuff in my studio. My idea is to have TWO rooms (sorry David), one for paper arts, sewing and crafty stuff, the other strictly for painting. I know I'm being greedy, and this won't last probably should we move. I have Dad's easel in the back of the Prius, and I still need to collect more art supplies, including a very heavy cabinet, from Mom's. So it stands to reason that I need a larger space for painting.

I really am unorganized. Sometimes I hate it, but in general it is what it is. I just move on through the flotsam and jetsam (or let the flotsam and jetsam flow around me), because that's usually easier than putting my life on hold to organize something. However, in this case, I will only attend to my arty/crafty side if I get these rooms sorted out. I have a scrapbook to assemble for cryin' out loud! I hope I can get it together before Wesley's first birthday in July.

My idea is to move the craft/drafting table up to the Miscellany Room, now that the secretary/desk piece is gone. I wish Gleason could be trusted sans crate, but even at nearly 6, and pretty well-trained (ha), he isn't. So crate has to stay.

Meanwhile another project looms - the dining room table. When we have a spate of dry weather, I need to move it out to the deck, remove and turn around the end legs, and refinish and seal the top. I had done the top before, back in 1994 or so, but never the leaves. Now the whole table needs done. It came from the Blands on the Hill (the long gone 214 High Street), and it's a lovely piece. If I can do the top properly, it will be too pretty for a tablecloth. Just need a runner and a rustic flower arrangement. We'll see.

Where to start?

Ladies and Gentlemen: Light Your Grills!

2010-05-30T20:45:00.010-04:00

Others can express justified gratitude for the sacrifices that have been made by those, military and civilian, who have given their lives in the service of our country.

Moment of silence.

NOW, on to the serious business of summer grilling.

Friday evening I did us some steaks. I was exceedingly cheesed because the Scripto lighter I bought at Lowe's is a PIECE OF SHIT (and will be returning same). Since I was caught with my pantalones down, that is, I had no matches, I had to resort to some heavy lighting equipment:

I now have a more appropriate lighter, this a BIC, but I know I have the big gun in reserve should I need it.

Yesterday, I had to do pig. Ummm, pig parts. NOM. Boston butt. NOM.

Rub: brown sugar, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, kosher salt/fresh-ground black pepper, dried oregano, cumin, and ancho chili powder.

Mix together, and prepare the Boston butt by rubbing it first with a sheen of vegetable oil. Then, rub yer meat thoroughly with the spice mixture. Let it set for about 30 minutes while the grill heats.

I use a gas grill, so I took some hickory chunks (not chips), and wrapped them in foil. I left the foil open on top, and poked some holes in the bottom. (Note: I didn't bother to soak the wood -- there's no point.) I set the wood package over the hottest area of the grill, directly over the drip bars, under the grate. I lit all three burners to get the heat going, then cut off the middle burner and cut the outside burners to medium. Once the grill was at about 300F, I added the pork, and went away for about 4 hours.

While the pork was doing, I made some buns courtesy of the King Arthur Flour cookbook ("Beautiful Burger Buns"). They are to. Die. For.

I also made some BBQ sauce. I got this recipe from a friend. It makes a ton, so halve it as I did:

32 oz ketchup
32 oz cider vinegar
1# light brown sugar
6 oz Texas Pete (or hot sauce of your choice)
8 oz blackberry jelly
2 sticks butter/margarine (even when I halved the recipe, I only used 1/2 stick of butter)
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 small onion, grated

Simmer for 20-30 minutes. Do not boil. Here is the red goodness:

And the finally the pulled goodness:

Rounding out the menu were coleslaw and baked beans. I took shortcuts for both. Bush's baked beans can't be beat (stay away from their chipotle black bean concoction however), and Marzetti slaw dressing is da bomb. No reason to stress making either beans or slaw dressing.

Now get yer favorite beverage, and light yer grills!

Adventures in gardening

2010-05-24T20:28:00.009-04:00

Yeah, I'll be sore. I escaped work a couple hours early today so I could get home and put my veggies in the ground. It rained all day Saturday and off-and-on on Sunday (and when it did rain Sunday, it rained hard). I figure I'm already at least a week behind in planting. I hope I get something to come to fruition.

I had bought bags o' roots from Wal-mart over a month ago: "Plant now for summer blooms!" the bags proclaimed. I bought two bags of three roots each of tall phlox, two bags of rudbeckia roots, and a bag each of 5 stargazer lilies and day lilies. The lilies had started to sprout, so I may have luck with them. The rudbeckia (black-eyed susan type) I couldn't figure out. They were a soft tangle of strings which I suppose was some sort of root system. I just jammed them into the ground. The garden phlox ... well, I think they're dead, Jim, but I planted them anyway.

All this went into the plot that my friend Bobbie tilled. It will hold landscaping, but I figure in the fall once the veggies are out, I'll add some spring bulbs and the like. But now we have this:

In a corner I have some herbs, and I hope the mint, oregano, thyme and chives will take off. Well, it's a foregone conclusion that the mint will. There are 2 Mr. Stripey tomatoes, 6 WV Hillbilly toms, two tomatillos and one Japanese eggplant. Just for giggles I tossed a packet of coneflower seeds and nasturtium seeds into the plot. It's up to them to germinate.

I also dug up the little bed around the side of the house that I used last year. The soil was very easy to fork up. I had added garden soil last year, and it was obviously very rich since the dandelions I removed looked like they came from the freakin' Precambrian - leaves well over 2' tall, I shit you not. I was waiting for a VW-bus-size dragonfly to show up. I put 6 red bell pepper plants, 3 more Mr. Stripey toms, and just tossed a handful of half-runner bean seeds and sunflower seeds therein.

Then there was the yellowjacket who insisted on harassing me the whole time. But he didn't sting me.

Meanwhile, late last week I thought I'd already killed my nifty hanging cuke, because I had neglected to water it. So I fortified a gallon watering can with Miracle-gro and doused it good. And doused it again today. It seems to have made a recovery, and even has little cukes coming on already!

Lest my planted herbs fail, I have some potted:

Well, I'm not responsible for the basil ... a parishioner had a load and gave it away at church a couple weeks ago. :)

Finally, I love my little pot of lettuces:

Even Gleason decided lettuce was good ... as a toy. He got this leaf from a head I had bought at the grocery store and had draining in the sink.

Fucktards and Asshats.

2010-05-22T18:53:00.008-04:00

Like yesterday wasn't stressful enough, I had the Waiting Room from Hell at the eye doctor. I had considered letting this slide as a blog post, but I just got an email from a right-wing friend of mine that has made me want to retrieve a couple of sharp bamboo skewers from the kitchen and poke out my eyes.

I really do love and respect my right-wing friend, and I know he sends me this shit to try to get my goat. He is very intelligent and well-read, and I truly don't believe he buys into (most of) the ultra-right wingnut and/or conspiracy shit.

That said, I run into intelligent, articulate and educated people who buy into this bullshit with a full tackle box. A colleague is one. Back to yesterday, I had an appointment to check how the new contacts were working out. I was in the waiting area, playing on my iPhone, while I listened to two other patients chatting. One was a very opinionated, bitter, nasty old woman. I was torn between pitying her and wanting to smack the shit outta her. She was obviously the type Who Is Always Right. The other was a man about my age, who evidently works in a garage but has a Master's degree in something and a religion degree.

Their conversation wandered all over the far-right agenda. My blood pressure started rising when they started bad-mouthing Latinos. I was SO hoping David would call at that point so I could speak in Spanish. I tried to ignore them, but then they started in on Obama. Ok, I'm not entirely pleased with the job Obama has done, but jaybus, he had a mess on his plate to start with. But, I don't question his birth, or his religion. So this guy starts in with "Obama is obviously a Muslim". WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCK. Some more of the F-bomb: the guy is a FUCKTARD. And Sourpuss Old Woman was right there with them.

I'd had enough and called their views ignorant, and gave them the ol' "opinions are like assholes..."

There was more conversation, but I went back to the iPhone.

Religious Degree Dude went on about how the Book of Daniel and Revelation are coming true now, blahblahblah. Fortunately Sourpuss was called into an exam room. I parted with RDDude that people who take the bible literally are exercising their free will to try to make the prophecies happen. God gave us free will, which to me means none of the "prophecies" need to happen. But I'm sure that didn't fit into his rigid world-view, because it's too taxing to THINK.

And back to the email my friend sent: it was a video of one James David Manning, who in my mind is a racist of the first water and obviously a nutjob and fucktard.

P.S. Old Sourpuss had pissed off the staff already that day with her attitude. 'Nuff said.

Desperate times and consequent measures.

2010-05-21T16:45:00.006-04:00

I never thought I would come to this point, although it has been developing for the last 18 months. Let's see, what do the psychologists say are Life Changing Events? Among them are marriage, buy/sell a home, death of a loved one, and bankruptcy.

Check. Check/check. Check. And finally, check, with a dose of literalism, that is, a check.

As a friend says, "Stressed much? Nah."

I never thought things would come to this. Never. But here I am. Nonetheless, we still have a home and our vehicles. The other strings attached are that I can't buy/sell a home or vehicles without court permission. If I were to sue someone for damages (i.e. be in an accident where I'm not at fault), I have to notify the court, presumably because any restitution would go to the trustee. If we get a tax refund, we only can bank $1,500. Anything above that goes to the creditors and DOES NOT pay down the sum I'm paying on the 5-year plan. That's fucking wrong. But it is what it is. By all indications from today's hearing, I got off light with my 5-year payoff plan to the Trustee.

It still hurts. It is embarrassing. But I hope this will be a new beginning. And, I still have my job. For now.

This also explains the petition I have at the top on the right sidebar. It's simply criminal that employers demand credit checks. I understand and support a credit check if one is being considered for a position relating to national security, i.e., where an-above-top-secret clearance is required. I understand if one is handling finances. But checks need to be narrowly defined.

The situation is sad, where someone who has found him/herself in financial difficulty and/or bankruptcy is denied a job because of this, and subsequently, the financial situation becomes more dire ... it's a whirlpool of despair, and totally, unforgivably wrong. I totally understand how financial difficulties, including bankruptcy, can drive people to suicide. The thought has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. (Fortunately I'm far too lazy to do myself in.)

AND it's also criminal that insurance companies base a premium on a credit check. WHAT THE FUCK is the correlation?! NONE. ZIP. NADA.

I'm still trying to figure out when to schedule my heart attack and/or nervous breakdown.

Monday cat blogging and miscellaneous photos

2010-05-17T20:32:00.010-04:00

My friend Larry has gone straight to the heart of my matter in his latest blog entry. He's given me more thought for a subsequent blog post of my own, but it requires some thought. That takes work. So I'll sleep on it. I do intend to blog more regularly. But for now, here is some miscellany.

Yesterday whilst I was gardening, our Outside Cat, Mona, decided to visit and help. I mean, "help".

She's such a dear, just clingy and lovable. She has to be getting up in years. As I've posted before, back in 2006 when we took her to the vet after David stepped hard on her foot, the vet thought she was 5 or 6. I wish she'd use the litterbox; we brought her in during the hardest part of winter, and she was promptly exiled again after doing her business on the sofa. Sigh.

Our rhododendron are lovely. Here are the two by the house (I don't have a photo of the pale pinkish white one by the driveway).

In the midst is our lilac. It has white blooms, but doesn't bloom much. Someone told me that I should put lime down around the base in the fall.

The photo on the sidebar is a close-up of a rhododendron at Mom's. It's not a large bush, but damn, the blooms are gorgeous.

I can't conclude without some goggie photos. First, Cousin Jack, who is old, has busted down hips, but is the Sweetest Goggie Ever.

Here he is with the Long Dog Toy that his cousin Bruno gave him. It's his "baby" now.

Meanwhile, Bruno melts:

A Friend, and Foliage

2010-05-16T16:30:00.006-04:00

Every year I have grand designs for gardening. And every year, it comes to nearly naught. This year so far has been par for the course. We don't have a tiller, and I really didn't want to dig up a substantial garden. I thought about raised beds, using cinder blocks as frames. I still may do that at some point, because I love the idea of filling in the holes and planting herbs. But of course, cinder blocks are heavy. Too much work.

Meanwhile, last year David took the 4-wheeler and tore out the Hideous Landscaping on one side of the front steps. What was left was an ugly mess of holes, clay, and river stones. About 3 weeks ago, I took my spading fork to it, only to find that UNDER all the rock and weeds and unhappy hostas trying to come up, was that godawful plastic sheeting designed to prevent weed growth. ARGH. I gave up. I even had bought about $30 worth of tall phlox, black-eyed Susans and daylilies. I hope the corms/roots haven't rotted in the bags.

Nonetheless, I despaired. Then, Bobbie to the rescue! She's is a friend from work, a "cultured redneck", and she offered to come out with her ancient Atlas tiller and dig up that patch. (And when I mean "ancient", that tiller is probably older than her 33 years, and pushing my 47 years, but it runs like a mo-fo.) She insisted upon tilling it herself, despite David offering to do it. I just stood around in my gardening gloves looking important. As it turned out, there was relatively little of the sheeting, so she managed to till the area well. And there was only a small section that was clay. It was obvious that at some point topsoil and/or potting soil had been worked into the ground. (Bonus: she didn't dig up Ahrnold or Wheeze, but then, I'm sure the dears have gone back to dust by now.)

Now it'll be easy to get about 20 bags of topsoil and a few bags of cow poop and work in, and start re-landscaping, with perennials. One thing I really want is a dwarf red Japanese maple. I'd like this area to be a sort-of zen garden. We'll see. I do have a lovely bird bath to put in there, with a "jiggler" to keep the water moving so skeeters don't breed.

Meanwhile, this weekend I got some tomatoes and peppers to plant. I still have to turn up my little side garden, which won't be hard (even with the weeds) since I had turned it up last year. But I had read in Mother Earth News about using bags of topsoil to do a quick and easy garden, and I was so jazzed by the concept that I abandoned the cinder block raised bed for this year. I got 8 bags of topsoil from Lowes, and have done this so far:

In the back, left to right are the tomatoes: West Virginia, Better Bush, Pineapple. Middle row are bell peppers and the last bag is cayenne. I'm going to set out more with lettuces and herbs so I can feed the rabbits. :/

I still have the side bed to address. Maybe I'll put more peppers there, and some eggplant. Maybe some beans to climb the fence.

Ah! I almost forgot the cucumbers! Well, here they are!

Thank you, J&H Greenhouse! Maybe I'll put up some twine or wire and let 'em grow all over the front porch. I was looking for a nice hanging pot of flowers, but this has flowers, foliage, and edible fruit in time too boot. I may have to get another one.

So the spring seems to be looking up. I hope so. We still have much more to do.

Champ or Chump?

2010-05-05T20:10:00.006-04:00

Æons ago, we had a cleaning lady, for the princely sum of $10/hour. Now, truly, we don't need a cleaning lady, except that I loathe, loathe, did I mention loathe, housecleaning, in all its forms. I honestly don't get people who enjoy doing it. Some people thrive on the outcome of a Job Well Done. I would rather poke out my eyes with two sharp sticks, especially when it comes to the bathroom.

The aforementioned cleaning lady up and quit without notice. Just a note the last time she cleaned, "I won't be back. I'm burned out." Okee-doke. I'll admit, when I'm in a non-cleaning mode, which is the norm, the place isn't pretty. But it's not a complete sty either. I don't think. But part of my stress and depression comes from my obsession that I should clean, when I'd rather be napping or painting. So I get even more depressed, don't clean, lie on the couch, and more crud builds up.

So we've been without a cleaning lady for some time. Nearly two weeks ago, when David was in hospital, he was talking to someone he'd found through networking around town. A nice lady came out, again who charged $10/hr, proclaimed the place "not that bad" and made her shopping list of cleaning materials, saying she'd call in a few days. Thundering silence. What. The. Fuck. The dogs are friendly and otherwise corralled. I can't see any reason not to call.

So this past week, David was called back to work as a Census taker ("Enumerator" - "I'll be baaack"). One of his co-workers that he'd worked with earlier, said her mom was looking for cleaning work, and charged $6/hr. Okaaay. David contacted her and got her in today while we were gone to clean. I was leery, sight unseen. David's co-worker said she'd totally trust her mom, not her aunt. Ha.

I used to be very trusting, but I'm not so much anymore. No real reason, although maybe my cynicism has been hardened with "death by a thousand cuts". He insisted on giving her a chance. She did call me today about 1 p.m. saying she had started at 8 a.m. and had just finished. I couldn't talk at that moment, but she said she'd call this evening. Well, she came by this evening, and seemed very concerned about the job she did.

She seems ok, and I'm inclined to feel for her (there for the grace of God go I), and give her a chance. She's our age, has 7 grandchildren and 1 great-grandchild, and is homeless. She lives in her Jeep Cherokee in someone's garage, and has very occasional work as a security guard, and otherwise cleans homes.

I was happy with the job she did, and I hope she works out because it's one stress relieved. But the other stress is a matter of trust. Am I doing the right thing? Am I giving her a hand up? Again, there for the grace of God go I.

West Virginians vs. Westboro "Baptist" Church

2010-04-09T19:38:00.003-04:00

This is simply awesome. I totally dig the guy (think he's a miner) who throws Bible verses back at these asshats.

I have also learned from a friend whose sources are reliable, that some members of the Westboro "Baptist" Church made their way to Montcoal, the location of Monday's tragic coal mine explosion. Allegedly one of the WBC idiots handed a miner one of their hate tracts, and the miner's reaction was to punch the person's lights out. TKO. And, just as the WBC idiot was coming to, the State Police arrived, just in time to haul him in. Meanwhile, the miner went about his business. Please let this be accurate, because the miner and the State Police are heroes!

Pedigree Art

2010-03-25T14:02:00.001-04:00

I'm emerging briefly to share this:

Good night.

2010-03-23T20:32:00.003-04:00

Pass me my cooling eye patch and my ear plugs. I'm going to snooze for awhile. Not like anyone would notice, save my grand total of 2 or 3 regular readers.

I'm sick of the pernicious atmosphere in this country. I'm sick of people affecting their little pet ... thingys. I'm sick of people in general, and the only way I can cope is to withdraw from this constant 7x24 internet feed.

Right now, I'm right and everyone else is wrong, wrong, dammit wrong.

I only mean this in the kindest possible way:

Kiss my ass.

Gloom.

2010-03-19T20:38:00.003-04:00

I’m in the midst of an existential crisis. I was going to say that I’m not sure what’s brought this on, but I know what the catalyst was. In any event, the last few days I’ve been engaged in some serious depressive introspection.

Last week, in reading the first part of Chris Downie’s book, The Spark (as in from sparkpeople.com), I realized something I had always known but had made light of: I have never had any goals. Or if I did, they were transient in nature and never were a coherent stepping stone to the next goal. I even have a hard time articulating my basic values.

When I went to college, I was fortunate to do so on a scholarship. I had a yen to be an archaeologist, but ended up majoring in Spanish and Classical Philology (Latin emphasis). Whilst I wouldn’t trade these degrees, I began my history of falling back to punt. These degrees merit nothing more than being a professional (i.e., enrolled) student, or a teacher (note: my "nothing more" in regards to being a teacher is that I am not cut out to be a teacher).

So began my short-term goals for gainful employment. The long and short of it is I have been in my career, such as it is, for 23 years. While it hasn’t been horrible, I have spent that time doing what Dad told me not to: spend a lifetime doing something I don’t like. It is true, I have always been a square peg in a round hole with my career. But I was afraid of failure – failure in what, I don’t know, and I think in the long run, I have (in my estimation) failed.

I don’t feel any satisfaction from these years gone. I haven’t done anything noteworthy. I’m exhausted, bankrupt, without goals, and simply don’t care anymore.

Last week I had found a glimmer of inspiration, something to cling to, while I was reading the first half of The Spark. I felt a scintilla of positivity, and tried to hang onto that. But I couldn’t.

I don’t crave the limelight, but I would like to think that I have done something in my life that made a difference to someone. I think Dad probably knew I should’ve been in the arts.

But now, I’m afraid to introspect to the point of finding what I really want, what I really should do. I’m afraid. And very sad.

How to drive a Prius at 40 F Bombs/Gallon

2010-03-11T21:09:00.004-05:00

This is a 2010 Prius, but it applies to earlier models JIM SIKES.

A Pole.

2010-03-08T18:13:00.004-05:00

Not a Slav, or a Serb, but a wooden pole. A 10-foot, treated lumber pole, extending 8 feet above the concrete-cast ground.

What you can't see is a distant antenna whose aircraft warning light flashes tantalizingly from afar, in line of sight to this pole. This pole is a wooden sarsen begging for recognition from the gods in yon antenna. A High Priest of the Antenna Gods will visit on Wednesday, and install an Device of Continuous Propitiation upon that wooden pole. If the Antenna Gods see fit to receive our Continuous Propitiation, I will look forward to consigning that demon HughesNet to the Outer Darkness, and save $100/month in the process.

I must cast about for appropriate sacrifices and ablutions...

Melt, dammit, melt!!!

2010-03-07T16:35:00.003-05:00

Yes, dammit, melt, hateful snow!

Today is another glorious day. The Prius was dead, Jim. Dead, dead, dead. Until today, I have driven it once since Feb. 10th. Anyway, the locks wouldn't work. Thank God the car was otherwise unlocked, because we had to fold down the back seats, get all this shit out of the trunk area, access the jack recess, and manually open the hatch. Why? Because the 12-volt battery is in the back, and that little pricey box is what boots the computer. Once we got the car running, David finally paired my iPhone with the car. And then, Hi-ho, Prius, AWAY! Finally!

Meanwhile, veggie porn anticipation continues. Today I ordered seeds of Cherokee purple and Paul Robeson tomatoes. I also bought a pack of mixed sunflower seeds and put them in the jiffy peat starters. I have a vision for the patch of barren yuck that was yucky landscaping a year ago. Last year David pulled out all the dead, ghastly THINGS that passed for landscaping. Around April 1st, I'm going to get out my garden fork and turn all that area up, and start working in amendments (to include, I hope, horse shit).

I also plan to recycle. We had a lovely gazebo/canopy on our deck for three seasons. It would've lasted longer had it not been for the endless snow of this winter. It collapsed. David tossed the skeleton over the fence to deal with later. I believe the corner uprights are still fine, so I plan to use them as trellises in the front garden, and I might add some wire or mesh to help climbing plants. So my plan is, once I've turned and amended the soil and placed the trellises, I'm going to toss in, willy-nilly, some half-runner and scarlet runner bean seeds. They're a couple years old, but kept in the dry and dark, so we'll see what sprouts. SOMETHING has to sprout! I also plan to plant garden phlox and daylilies, and my sunflowers should they sprout well.

And speaking of sprouting, and requiring a visual, I give you the USS Los Angeles:

What's that sound?

2010-03-05T18:45:00.010-05:00

It's the sound of icicles cracking. It's the sound of cardinals singing loudly. It's the sound of the State Road plow truck coming up our road, about a week late.

I so hope the weather is breaking. I have stranded David for at least 2 weeks after I dumped the Prius in a ditch. Since, I had an idiot go left of center and cream the driver side mirror on David's precious 4Runner. I can now drive the Prius, except, the snow is piled up on that side of the garage. And, the Prius is dead, Jim. Dead, dead, dead.

Amidst that, I fell on the ice going down the porch steps, and busted the shit out of myself. I now sport ginormous bruises at my left kidney, left ass cheek, and my left arm. I'm fortunate I didn't break a rib or crack my head. And being overweight and out of shape is a bitch ... I cripped for a couple days. And I nearly had a repeat yesterday, but I caught myself in time to put down more salt.

But FINALLY, we had sun yesterday and today. Even though it was in the 30's yesterday, David & I were among so many who were out and about, soaking in the sun. Poor Bruno even found a tiny sunspot in the living room in the afternoon, and tried to curl himself into it. He so loves to take the sun.

I have been so terribly depressed, so desperately sad. I'll leave it at that. Those who know me get it, those who combat depression get it. I just wish David got it more than he does ... I hope that as the weather starts to improve, my mood will improve as much as it can with the sun. That of course doesn't alleviate situational stress/depression or my natural predisposition to clinical depression. And lately, I've been so very tired of fighting it. I need to amass more sick time so I can schedule my nervous breakdown. Then again, it is Lent, so maybe I should liken this to my personal 40(0) days in the desert.

My first effort at seed sprouting (see below) came far too early. Today I have loaded one of those tomato sprouters with black krim, black plum, and Dr. Wychee's yellow. The seeds are two years old, but they've been kept in their packets, so I hope some will sprout.

Meanwhile, I ordered some Hillbilly tomato seeds, and a friend in Louisiana has mailed me some Creole tomato seeds.

Jerry tells me they're very juicy, not overly meaty. I only care if they're tasty, and I'm sure they are! And I'm holding out hope that he'll send me some honey from his hives. Mmmmm, mmmmm, NOM.

I also ordered some peter pepper seeds, and am thinking about getting some naga jokolia (sometimes called bhut or bhot jokolia) seeds. Supposedly these peppers put the red savina habanero to shame. I mean, this could be sheer insanity:

Melinda's black label XXXX hab sauce is my favorite hot sauce evah, followed closely by the old workhorse, the original Tobasco. I'm terribly curious about this.

Realtor White

2010-02-18T19:36:00.004-05:00

The whole fecking planet, well, everything in my immediate environment, is feckin' REALTOR WHITE. I got to thinking today, I can count on ONE HAND the number of times the sun has come out since the weekend before Christmas. And on those rare occasions that I have actually been outside when the sun came out, I feel like the Undead. I think I have been transformed into a vampire without my knowledge.

In the last week I put the Prius in a ditch and had to call a tow truck to haul it out. Fortunately, no damage done. When I did this, it was 6:30 a.m., 9 degrees, snowing and windy. I called David to come get me. Now, mind, I was about a quarter mile from the house. It took him FOREVER. WTF? How long does it take to pull on clothes and boots and come ahead on? Oh, lemme guess. He had to take a shit.

Fortunately, no damage to the Prius. It stayed at a neighbor's at the bottom of the hill till Saturday, when I managed - with difficulty - to get it back to the garage.

Now, I've been stranding David and driving the truck to my vanpool. David meanwhile has given up on the driveway. The icicles off the house are a sight to behold. Even though I knock them off nearly daily, the miraculously reappear larger than before.

Needless to say, as if my clinical depression weren't enough, I have SAD with a cherry on top. I say this to Old Man Winter:

So now, I need to put my head together with Mom and decide on vegetables to plant. Our resource of choice is Totally Tomatoes. While we'll be able to order plants, I do have to get a pack of Hillbilly tomato seeds.

The description from the Totally Tomatoes website: 00347 - Hillbilly Tomato

This ancient heirloom hails from the hills of West Virginia, where they know a superb tomato when they see one! Huge, mild-flavored, beefsteak-type fruits weigh 1 to 2 lbs. apiece, and are colored a most unusual orange- yellow, streaked and mottled in attractive shades of red and pink.

Of course, Mom & I have to order this:

Not forgotten!

2010-02-16T19:24:00.004-05:00

Here I go, being remiss in this blog. Don't worry, all you three or four readers will get your fix soon.

But please check out my ancillary blog, Arte y Misa. I created it a long time ago, just the shell of the blog, but decided recently to try to make it come alive.

I'd appreciate feedback, comments, and yes, that means PLEASE VISIT.

The Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas

2010-01-28T19:39:00.004-05:00

Today is the Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, Doctor of the Church.

Thanks to St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, here is a brief bio of the saint:

The birth-year of Thomas Aquinas is commonly given as 1227, but he was probably born early in 1225 at his father’s castle of Roccasecea (75 m. e.s.e. of Rome) in Neapolitan territory. He died at the monastery of Fossanova, one mile from Sonnino (64 m. s.e. of Rome), Mar. 7, 1274. His father was Count Landulf of an old high-born south Italian family, and his mother was Countess Theodora of Theate, of noble Norman descent. In his fifth year he was sent for his early education to the monastery of Monte Cassino, where his father’s brother Sinibald was abbot. Later he studied in Naples. Probably in 1243 he determined to enter the Dominican order; but on the way to Rome he was seized by his brothers and brought back to his parents at the castle of S. Giovanni, where he was held a captive for a year or two and besieged with prayers, threats, and even sensual temptation to make him relinquish his purpose. Finally the family yielded and the order sent Thomas to Cologne to study under Albertus Magnus, where he arrived probably toward the end of 1244. He accompanied Albertus to Paris in 1245, remained there with his teacher, continuing his studies for three years, and followed Albertus at the latter’s return to Cologne in 1248. For several years longer he remained with the famous philosopher of scholasticism, presumably teaching. This long association of Thomas with the great polyhistor was the most important influence in his development; it made him a comprehensive scholar and won him permanently for the Aristotelian method. In 1252 probably Thomas went to Paris for the master’s degree, which he found some difficulty in attaining owing to attacks, at that time on the mendicant orders. Ultimately, however, he received the degree and entered ceremoniously Upon his office of teaching in 1257; he taught in Paris for several years and there wrote certain of his works and began others. In 1259 he was present at an important chapter of his order at Valenciennes, At the solicitation of Pope Urban IV. (therefore not before the latter part of 1261), he took up his residence in Rome. In 1269-71 he was again active in Paris. In 1272 the provincial chapter at Florence empowered him to found a new studium generale at such place as he should choose, and he selected Naples. Early in 1274 the pope directed Mm to attend the Council of Lyons and he undertook the journey, although he was far from well. On the way he stopped at the castle of a niece and there became seriously ill. He wished to end his days in a monastery and not being able to reach a house of the, Dominicans he was carried to the Cistercian Fossanova. There, first, after his death, his remains were preserved.

We celebrate St. Thomas' life with this prayer:

Almighty God, you have enriched your Church with the singular learning and holiness of your servant Thomas Aquinas: Enlighten us more and more, we pray, by the disciplined thinking and teaching of Christian scholars, and deepen our devotion by the example of saintly lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

And who knew that the Blessed Saint was a soccer official?

The Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul

2010-01-25T19:08:00.004-05:00

^{Acts 9:

1}Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord's disciples. He went to the high priest ²and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem. ³As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. ⁴He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"

⁵"Who are you, Lord?" Saul asked.

"I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting," he replied. ⁶"Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do."

⁷The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. ⁸Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. ⁹For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything.

¹⁰In Damascus there was a disciple named Ananias. The Lord called to him in a vision, "Ananias!" "Yes, Lord," he answered.

¹¹The Lord told him, "Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. ¹²In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight."

¹³"Lord," Ananias answered, "I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your saints in Jerusalem. ¹⁴And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name."

¹⁵But the Lord said to Ananias, "Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel. ¹⁶I will show him how much he must suffer for my name."

¹⁷Then Ananias went to the house and entered it. Placing his hands on Saul, he said, "Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit." ¹⁸Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, ¹⁹and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

Reading this, one thing leaps out at me:

^"I will show him how much he must suffer for my name."

Wow, that's just ... cold. Isn't it? I mean, Saul was making all sorts of mayhem with the disciples (who by this time number more than twelve).

But I think the unspoken part of this quote is "... and he will ENJOY it!"

Imagine the terror of being stuck down, blinded, an inexplicable event ... and taking a proverbial leap of faith.

Yet he did, when Jesus healed him through Ananias. I'm no Pauline scholar, and earlier I was "offended" by what I saw as Paul's "issues", but I think that even Paul knew he had major "issues", he knew he was flawed, yet he pressed on.

Out of terror came strength for him.

For me, I fear. I fear lots of things. Pharmaceuticals help me not to fear as much, but maybe I should recognize that I have scales on my eyes. And I don't need an Ananias to lay hands upon me.

I wasn't paying attention...

2010-01-22T17:46:00.002-05:00

... but it happened again: another year clocked by. I'm now 47. Mentally I don't feel 47, but physically I feel about 147. :) Yes, ELDEST SISTER, I need to exercise. Problem: I HATE EXERCISE. HATE IT. HATE IT. HATE IT. Oh, feck. I'll start. David is threatening to rearrange the living room and bring up the treadmill.

We were going to check out Larry's Hillbilly Grill tonight (Friday being steak night and rumor has it, very good), but I decided to be thrifty. I exchanged a propane tank for the grill, and got some lovely strip steaks (3/4") from Kroger. Baked spud, salad, and some sweet, dark, whole-wheat rolls that are rather akin to Outback are on the menu.

I had made a vow to myself to blog more often in 2010. I guess I am, but I really don't have much to say.

Um, I don't have much to say. Ok. Well, grill is heating up. I'll be back later.

Reality Cheque

2010-01-14T19:09:00.005-05:00

(Maria) is recognizing that a lot of her personal spiritual growth consists of equal parts of sitting still with the motor running, analyzing the map, followed by slamming the truck into gear and peeling out full bore until she no longer recognizes the landmarks, at which time she pulls to the side of the road and repeats the process.

I used this with Maria's permission. When I read her Facebook status, I inwardly, and nearly outwardly, cheered.

I know I am guilty of trying to over-analyze my place in the Grand Scheme of Things, and wish I could explain it in Grand Terms. At the same time, I have little to no tolerance for pomposity, either because I'm unable to be pompous or maybe that I'm just no-frills. Actually, I think it's because I'm no-frills, but when it comes to verbalizing my spiritual growth, I'm tongue/pen/keyboard-tied. So Maria, Missouri country gal that she is, laid it out perfectly. I can see my spiritual growth as a solo cross-country monster truck rally, and my truck gets LOTS of sand.

That was one Reality Cheque, which flows into the next...

I wish I weren't such an information hound. I love amassing information: news, entertainment, science, (some) sports, random factoids, spiritual and philosophical "stuff".

I have to ask myself why certain people are "famous". What for? What have the Kardashian bimbos done? Paris Hilton is famous, why? Megan Fox. Please. Ok, David Beckham may be able to play a bit of soccer, but his wife "Posh" is famous for ... Spice Girls? Balloon Boy parents. TomKat and their Barbie Doll, Suri. I could go on. WTF?

This of course all pales in the face of abject misery, which goes on and on, but we're only reminded when something like the Haiti earthquake happens. Even our troops abroad are forgotten in the face of the latest on Brangelina et. al.

I would like to think that fascination with non-entity "famous" people is an escape from the bad news is just that, but I really think that as a whole, our society is stupefyingly shallow.

I hope I'm wrong.

Brain fart time. The gears have ground to a halt.

Lo! What light through yonder window broke?

2010-01-10T17:09:00.006-05:00

'Twas something that we haven't seen in at least two weeks: blue sky and sun! It wasn't enough to completely perk up one's spirits, but it was a wee bit of help. Even in 10° F temps, the snow did melt just a scoche. I may even take the Prius out tomorrow, for the first time in I-don't-know-when. I did start it yesterday, and was gratified that it started without protest.

Downside: snow again tomorrow. Upside: gradual warming, even into the mid-40's in the coming week. Man, have we been spanked this winter ... this season, the wild hair notion of cashing in my retirement, moving to Santa Marta, Colombia, and opening a tiki bar has never looked better. The Atlantic north coast of Colombia is gorgeous, always 90° F and sunny, save for the occasional thunderstorm. Even hurricanes don't pass there. My Spanish is quite adequate, and a friend of mine said she'd join David & me: "I don't need to speak Spanish to sling beer!"

Alas, Mona got the boot back into the snow today. It became obvious that she had NO CLUE as to consistent use of the litter box, to wit: shitting and peeing on the sofa chair. Oh, HELL no. I love that cat, but we can't tolerate that. Once the Christmas dreck is finally put away, I'll have to shampoo the furniture. Guess I'll be starting spring cleaning early.

Finally Christmas is down and nearly put away. The only thing remaining is to disassemble the trees and put them in the basement. It's rather sad and dreary without the lights, however. But I suppose that makes decorating for next Christmas all the more joyful. But, Lent is only a month away, and soon after, Easter, and of course spring.

So, to get a jump start on spring, I bought a windowsill greenhouse, and a packet each of basil and arugula seeds. I so totally love arugula, and I can't find it here consistently (sometimes Kroger will have it, and it's expensive). It's sharp, a great salad counterpoint, and terrific on pizza.

But I just love houseplants. Once the Christmas trees are put away, I'll rearrange the houseplants, much to David's chagrin. I may even string lights in the aspidistra.

Can we spring?

2010-01-06T19:56:00.005-05:00

I'm tired! Yes! We had a white Christmas. That's dandy. Now the shit snowstorm can stop. Mom and I are already plotting on our tomato and pepper plants order from tomato.com. But NOOOOOOOOOOO, right now another wave is arriving. Oh, yes, it's SOOO pretty.

Fuck it.

I hate that we have an 4-wheeler, but yesterday David put it to its best use. Too bad it's only for a short time a year.

I got my exercise by shoveling where the 4-wheeler couldn't reach.

At least it's a pretty, fluffy, snow.

In the meantime, it's the day after Epiphany. I have started to take down my Christmas stuff, but like always, progress is piecemeal. I hate un-decorating. It's so depressing. I'm actually toying with the notion of leaving up the little tree in the dining room, and decorating it seasonally. Yes, I'm nuts.

Meanwhile, we brought our outside cat in about 2 weeks ago. In past years, when the weather turned bitter, Mona was happy to be in for a short while, but in a couple days' time, stood at the door to be let out. Now, she hasn't made any move toward the doors. She's been eating, using the litter box, and snoozing, the last of which in the living room on the back of the couches. She is sweet and affectionate to the point of being a real pain. But I have an idea that she may turn into an inside cat. I think she's a senior; back in 2006 or 2007, David had stepped hard on her foot. We took her to the vet, and I believe he thought she was about 6 then. So maybe she can live out her golden years with us in comfort, especially since she had vanished for months this fall and suddenly reappeared. I had feared she was dead!

I called Mom today to check in. She seems to be doing well; she was in chipper spirits when we spoke. I told her that the chance of my visiting this weekend were slim to none, and she totally understood. We so totally need to compile our tomato and pepper plant order.

Acme of a frozen day

2010-01-03T20:47:00.003-05:00

I know many of you eschew Wal-mart. Fine. But today I had to venture out in bitterly cold temps to lay in a supply of food. Whilst I was at Wal-mart, I availed myself of a haircut.

Tremendous! I had a sweet 72-y.o., wearing a cozy jumper adorned with embroidered flowers. And she had a salty tongue.

She also understood what I meant by "shingle bob" and "Louise Brooks".

Blargh, 'splained.

2010-01-03T19:04:00.004-05:00

I suppose I should've 'splained the "blargh". I got that a long time ago from a lolzcats picture, which was indeed, "Blargh, I am ded". Said kitteh was sleeping deeply in an impossible position.

We have lotsa "blargh, ded" in this house, especially in winter with the fireplace going. Bruno, the basset, I swear is a slinky. I cannot BELIEVE the contortions he folds himself into. And he has the double benefit of two eye patches: wrinkles and ears (basset ears being the original microfiber towels).

The other Blargh Champion is Joe-Pye. Now, since I haven't blogged since Labor Day, those of you who aren't on Facebook wouldn't know who Joe-Pye is. Shortly after Labor Day, I saw a flyer in the breakroom at work advertising free kittens. Long story short, I brought Joe-Pye home at the tender age of 7 weeks. David nearly had apoplexy. I ignored David for several days during which Joe-Pye worked his magic.

Now Joe-Pye is our darling. He's so busy, but inoffensive. He's cuddly. His purr sounds like a lawnmower. He smells sweet. He gets on with the dogs and Lily the Bitch Cat from Hell.

Now, as to the name: isn't Joe-Pye a cute name? Now c'mon. I'm agog at how many people don't know what "Joe-Pye" means/is. It's nothing salacious. I thought it was common. Without resorting to Google, please, please tell me you know what "Joe-Pye" means.

Blargh. Lotsa ded going on.

2010-01-02T17:10:00.004-05:00

Yesterday started with a winter weather advisory. After David & I got home from a totally tasty New Year's dinner at Mom's, the temps started to dive and the snow began. It's all so lovely, but I need to venture out tomorrow for stuff. It's also not that bad. The snowfall has been lovely, but the accumulation minimal, and for that I'm grateful.

The temps have bordered on hateful however, at least for this area. I coaxed our outdoor cat in. Poor Mona, she was all about food and the litterbox. She's still in the Other Room, protected by a baby gate. Lily and Joe-Pye aren't happy, but they're fine for the moment. I'd far rather have Lily the Hateful as an outdoors cat, and have Mona inside. We've no idea who she belongs to, but she's been loitering at our house off and on since 2006. I hadn't seen her for MONTHS this year and LO! she showed up in November. She is absolutely the sweetest cat. I'd rather boot Lily outside and have Mona permanently.

I thought about taking down the Christmas decorations today, but ultimately was convinced to keep them up until Epiphany. So I ended up going to my studio, which was and still is a mess. I spent a few hours sorting stuff, throwing away stuff, and discovering stuff. It was like Christmas all over again! I've a pile for 'yard sale', and a pile for 'eBay'.

And all the while, there is a great smellin' chili in the slow-cooker.

So much to do. So much.

Peering from under the covers

2010-01-01T00:01:00.004-05:00

Hello.

Here I am. It has been four months, more or less, since that hike with David and Gleason at Watters Smith State Park.

Today is New Year’s Day. The Aughts have drawn to a close.

So many times have I thought about blogging since that last Labor Day weekend post. I occasionally had some particle of wisdom, humor, insight, or happenstance that I had thought to share, but I didn’t have the energy or motivation to do so.

I had believed that 2008 was a lousy year, and had hopes that 2009 would be better. However, my hopes were dashed. Yes, I am blessed that I remain employed. But nevertheless for a number of reasons this has been a bleak year.

The bleakness stems from the black depths of clinical depression. I think I’ve always suffered from depression to one extent or another. Of course, the severity of my depression fluctuates with the situation, and “The Situation” hasn’t been the best this year. Therapy and medication have helped, but I’m still largely ridden with depression, anxiety, and feelings of dread, despair and no control over anything.

Consequently, just when I need my faith and God the most, I can find neither.

In addition to “The Situation”, my father battled cancer since November of last year. As I reported earlier, he turned 92 in July and that same month he and Mom celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary. Then, early November, his health deteriorated rapidly. We place him in in-home hospice care on November 10th, and he passed away five days later.

I am truly blessed that I was able to spend the last weekend with him, especially that last Sunday afternoon. I don’t think I fear death now, or at least as much.

So now that he’s at peace, my concern shifts to Mom. I think she is doing remarkably well, or at least she seems to be. But through our conversations, I know she’s grieving terribly. I try to call and visit often, and I am hopeful that in due course she’ll return to Curves and other activities. At least she’s still playing in her bridge club of 60 years!

There has been one bright spot: I recently moved to a new position in my workplace, in which I hope I’ll thrive and have a chance to travel more. I’m not going to get overly optimistic, though, since it seems that every time I’ve tried that of late, I’ve been let down, that is, everything I touch seems to turn to shit.

Well, my Christmas dinner didn’t, and for that I’m thankful. Unfortunately, depression hasn’t curbed my appetite any, dammit.

So for 2010, I’m challenging myself, AGAIN, with losing weight and getting fit. I’ve re-joined SparkPeople, and have decided to use the treadmill to train for the 5K that’s usually run during May’s Strawberry Festival.

I also want to get back into my art, finally, and start populating the other blog that has been sitting out there, unattended.

And, of course, doing a better job of keeping up with THIS blog (although it’s not nearly as witty and as interesting as I would like, or as other blogs that I admire).

This whole post is rather an Airing of Grievances. In that, my friends, I wish one and all a belated Festivus and a blessed 2010.

My year as summarized by Facebook

2009-12-31T17:39:00.001-05:00

Various and sundry.

2009-09-06T18:28:00.003-04:00

Well, to follow up on Yard Sailing of last weekend, despite the rain we did pretty well, scoring a total of $431. I say "we" cuz I had to cut Mom in for $90, my cousin in for $11 and my sis in for $6, so I pocketed $324, just in time to pay an unexpected bill. Grump. One step forward, two steps back.

Needless to say, we still have ooooooodles of shit to bring forth for future yard sales. My sis, myself, and her neighbor are already planning ahead for a spring block thing.

As many of you know, yard sales are SO much work, but y'know, when the stuff's set up, I actually enjoy watching all the people come by.

This weekend, Labor Day weekend, was the Jackson's Mill Jubilee at yes, Jackson's Mill. The Stonewall Jackson Jubilee had been a tradition for 35 years. But this year, at nearly the last gasp, their funding evaporated. The community pulled together, and in two months' time, opened the Jackson's Mill Jubilee. While maybe, MAYBE, there weren't as many vendors as in years past, it was BETTER than the last Stonewall Jackson Jubilee I attended about 7 years ago. They got the vendors out of the stock barns and in the open in tents. Granted, if it had rained, that would be a problem. But the ambiance was very pleasant, and it looked like there were pretty good crowds. I hope this year is a success, because maybe it was time to make over the event. The organizers should be proud!

Yesterday we took Quiubo with us to the Jubilee. Poor thing nearly expired. He's so fat, like us. Today was Gleason's turn. We decided to avail ourselves of another glorious day and go hiking at Watters Smith State Park. We did a reasonably easy 3.5 mile hike over about an hour and forty-five minutes. Gleason is decidedly NOT fat, but he never gets out and about. He finally calmed down and walked smartly, albeit panting.

Thank goodness I have the holiday tomorrow. I have to do some work work, because Friday turned into a deadline clusterfuck and I got put way behind. Yet, we'll still enjoy ourselves at a cookout in Elkins with some good friends.

Humor. I so need a laugh.

2009-09-04T18:23:00.000-04:00

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

see more Political Pictures

Weigh anchor!

2009-08-23T19:12:00.005-04:00

It's more YARD SAILING!

Yes! Next week, Friday and Saturday, I and my sister and neighbor and maybe a friend will be anchored on Florida Street. Come and see! There's some good shit to be had, especially if you're a collector or dealer. But there's all kinds of shit to be had. Good clothes. Some furniture. Books. Nice oddz-n-endz. Miscellany of which I am not yet aware, because I haven't dug it up yet.

Ann, my sis, even got Mom into the spirit of things. Today we lugged a Prius-full of stuff back from Weston, to include art glass (granted, from Teleflora arrangements, but they're VERY nice), and vintage lamps, a few of which are so old as to have the cloth cords. It's of lamps that I post.

Last week when I was getting my hair cut, I noticed Alan had a metal lamp with a paper insert -- just a decorative thing. I remembered we had a cylindrical lamp of the same type. Alan's I think is new. The one I recalled is exceedingly vintage. I made a mental note to keep an eye out for it.

As luck would have it, when Mom was handing out old lamps from the linen closet, LO! There was my Retro Lamp! I had to snag it. It's SO cool. Here 'tis:

Best. Protest. Sign. Ever.

2009-08-18T20:04:00.002-04:00

Another BIRFDAY!!

2009-08-18T19:42:00.004-04:00

Today Gleason is Big Five! And he's just as immature as ever, as you can see if you examine the photo...

Birfday!!

2009-08-17T18:21:00.003-04:00

Quiubo is the birfday boy today! He's now 7, and officially a Senior Dog. He is long-suffering with the constant needling of Gleason and Bruno. Indeed, he is sweet beyond words.

Talk about long-suffering...

Largess.

2009-08-15T19:32:00.008-04:00

Oh my, I have been the recipient of largess. Chile largess. Well, I did buy some. I plucked a couple of cayennes from my pathetic plants, and now they're dead, Jim. The habanero plants I purchased from the same place are going great guns, and I'm optimistic that I'll have some nice fruits. A friend who is growing chiles for the hell of it gave me some cayennes and hot banana peppers.

I think an assortment of chiles is a glorious thing, resplendent in all their sundry colors. I really think they're works of art themselves.

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to my culinary artistry with these babies!

And speaking of babies, I saw my great-nephew Wesley today. He's now a whoppin' 4 weeks and change old. He's such a sweet little baby.

Yard Sailing

2009-08-09T19:37:00.002-04:00

I embarked on yard sailing this weekend, as in, my selling shit. This weekend was the Great Upshur County Yard Sale, Thursday - Saturday. I had amassed what I thought was a copious amount of shit -- it sure filled up the truck -- but once set out, it was paltry at best.

I had collectibles, in the form of Russel Wright American Modern dinnerware, and Japanese lustreware. I had a good haul of books, most of which were cookbooks I knew I wouldn't use again. That's about it. So, I think a $166 profit was decent, as my sister said. No one bit on the collectibles, because I think my sis was right, the dealers combed the sales the first day.

So, I hope to do another yard sale the weekend before Labor Day. I'll encourage David to ply the garage, and we'll see to the basement and outbuildings.

I was surprised at how tiring hosting a yard sale is. But, I did enjoy it. The parade of "plaga" is fun.

Furniture

2009-08-06T09:23:00.000-04:00

I bought an armchair a while back, but one day when I got home from work I saw that it had somehow turned itself into an ottoman. I called the furniture store to complain and was told "Oh, you must have bought an occasional chair."

Wesley!

2009-08-02T18:19:00.005-04:00

My niece Mary brought baby Wesley to visit. He was born July 16th. He's SO sweet! I have nothing more to say at this point, rather, let the photos speak for themselves.

Generations one and four: Great-grandpa and Wesley, 92 years, and two weeks (and change) respectively.

The same with Great-grandma, at nearly 87. (As I handed Wesley to Mom, I said, "Do you remember how to do this?" "NO!" Hehe.)

And yours truly, in a truly uncharacteristic pose.

And finally, BABY TOES!

Bruno speaks.

2009-08-02T17:27:00.003-04:00

But as Elliott pointed out, he doesn't listen.

Shatner Reads Palin's Tweets (07/29/09)

2009-07-30T11:57:00.001-04:00

Video Recaps | Full Episodes | Webisodes

Pitiful.

2009-07-26T16:56:00.010-04:00

After a burst of energy in May, where I spent an afternoon digging up my modest garden and setting tomatoes, peppers and cukes, I sat back on my ass as my depression took over and ignored it for over two months. I avoided looking at it even, because I feared the mess that awaited. Yet, guilt overwhelmed me, and yesterday, I finally went out, armed with stakes, twine, scissors, cultivator, shovel, and mulch film.

I found my plot overgrown with dandelions and wood sorrel, and a freakin' sumac trying to come up. The tomatoes were entwined with the half-runner beans, and a couple of the tomato plants had started to root along the ground, as required by their viney nature.

(Ironically, maybe I should have worked on cultivating both the dandelions and wood sorrel, since both are edible. The wood sorrel IS pretty.)

Wikipedia photo

Anyway, after two hours, I managed to clean out the weeds, sake the tomatoes, arrange the bean vines a bit (but there are still quite a few in with the toms), spread rabbit poo, and arrange the mulch film. I'm curious to see if this stuff works ... can't hurt. Maybe they'll help redeem my neglect. I do see some tomatoes coming on, and I think they're on my oxheart vines. I'm hoping I'll have some Mr. Stripeys too.

My pitiful plot. (Note Bruno noodling in the yard.)

HOWEVER, I made my first harvest yesterday. Aren't they lovely?

Meanwhile, we had some interesting insect activity recently, specifically a pair of luna moths and an io moth:

Object Lesson

2009-07-21T18:52:00.005-04:00

It seems in the unseasonable chill of this past spring, a hummingbird took refuge on a rusty nail protruding from the back porch wall at my parents'. Apparently it wasn't enough of a refuge, and the poor thing steadfastly clung to the hope of life in the face of the elements whipping into the porch enclave.

In one regard, I could find this tiny mummified creature depressing, but I find him strangely beautiful. Does this wee body demonstrate hope, or resignation?

July 19, 1944

2009-07-19T16:34:00.002-04:00

Watch over George and Betty, O Lord, as their days increase; bless and guide them wherever they may be. Strengthen them when they stand; comfort them when discouraged or sorrowful; raise them up if they fall; and in their hearts may thy peace which passeth understanding abide all the days of their lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Adapted from a birthday prayer in the Book of Common Prayer

Big July doin's

2009-07-19T14:54:00.006-04:00

The week of the Fourth was a banner week. On July 3, Dad turned 92, and on July 19, Mom & Dad celebrate their 65th wedding anniversary. The whole immediate family showed up, and some cousins as well, plus a couple-three guests.

The food was fabulous, and company even better. Our family is so very blessed to have our parents still; I cannot imagine 65 years together! Years ago, Mom commented to me that she couldn’t remember when she wasn’t married to Dad. She’s been in love with him since she was 5. (She’ll be 87 next month.)

What follows is a very small selection of photos of the festivities. Today is their actual anniversary, and coincidentally, there was a covered dish after church at St. Paul’s.

Mom & Dad
Mom & Matt, eldest grandson

Mary, youngest granddaughter with her nephew, Gunner

My brother cuts the Roast Beast

All the grandkids, plus 1 1/2 great grandkids. Front row l-r: Mary, pregnant with Jonathan Wesley (who arrived this past Thursday, July 16th), Lauren, Whitney (sisters). Back row l-r: Gunner, first GGchild, held by his daddy Nathan (Mary's brother), Matt, Jon (brothers)

EVERYBODY!

Another award!

2009-07-14T19:37:00.005-04:00

Yee ha! I got another award, this time from the lovely lady who is Creating Utopia in West Virginia, which in large part consists of rescuing unloved and/or unwanted horses. She is a GODSEND, and anyone who loves horses must visit her blog.

I had already co-opted the "Honest Scrap" logo because I liked it. But now I have it "honestly". The "rules" state I have to admit 10 true things. Here goes:

1. Salt-rising bread is one of my very favorite things in the world. And only Mom can make it the way it should be.

2. I had a couple small angelfish when I was a toddler. I accidently killed them because I wanted to take them for a walk … on the windowsill.

3. When I was 10, my parents took me with them on a tour of England, Scotland and Wales. When we visited Blair Castle in Scotland, I had a vision of having lived there hundreds of years ago.

4. I love spicy food – endorphin rush.

5. My maternal grandmother – Nana – taught me to read when I was 4, from the McGuffey Readers.

6. I’ve spent my life in a career path in which I have been successful, but for which I’m incredibly unsuited.

7. I love, love, love trains.

8. I climbed all 843 or so steps to the Basilica in Lyon, France. I was outpaced by a nun who looked to be 105.

9. Yes, I fart, and loudly. Get over it (David).

10. I think Gothic cathedrals are the pinnacle of architecture.

I'm not passing this award actively -- if you want it, please take it! All ya'll are great.

Beer-Brined Butterflied Chicken - Fine Cooking

2009-07-12T14:23:00.002-04:00

Photo from the website linked below.

Beer-Brined Butterflied Chicken - Fine Cooking

Posted using ShareThis

Oh, how I love the grill!

Long time, no blog

2009-07-09T20:34:00.005-04:00

I hate it when that happens. Like I’ve said before, if I fail to blog at least every couple days, I totally lose the groove.

Lots going on en la vida de Juanuchis, whether real or imagined. I made the error so many with clinical depression make, removing myself from the joys of science. Oh, yes, quite the error. I thought it would be best if I stayed in touch with my “true self” despite everything, thinking is might make me more creative, making me feel more keenly.

Oh, do I feel more keenly, to the point that I’m overwhelmed by helplessness. I am overwhelmed from all angles, and frozen into immobility. The house is a mess, and I don’t care. I haven’t, and can’t right now, do my art. And I don’t care. I haven’t tended to my pathetic vegetable garden. And I’m not sure I care. I’m desperately trying to care about work. God, it’s so hard. I want to come back in the next life as a spoiled basset hound, so I can catch up on my sleep.

In the meantime, I’m becoming used to Cymbalta, a mere 30mg, again. It seemed to work the best so far of the Better Living Through Chemistry lot. Not sure this dose is adequate, or if we’ll have to mix-n-match with Lexapro or such. I still have panic attacks on occasion, but it’s been a couple days since my last. Wow. Hm. Small victories.

So, in keeping with said small victories, I’m setting myself some goals for the weekend, in no particular order:

1. Won’t worry about the dirty house, but will pick something to tidy and go from there.

2. Stake my tomatoes and weed the miserable vegetable garden.

3. Cut down Buckwheat – his fur is a mess. (For new readers, Buckwheat is my English Angora rabbit.)

4. Sleep in. (Of course, that would be #1 on the list.)

5. Take a nap. (That should probably be #2.)

6. Maybe revisit a painting that’s been sitting in my studio, quasi-unfinished.

I think the “tidy something goal” will be the kitchen, and the sitting area on the deck; the latter I may do tomorrow evening, simply because Saturday morning, I’d like to make a cuppa tea, take the notebook and sit out there while the dogs act stupid.

Two things cheered me this week: Dad’s 92^nd birthday and Mom & Dad’s 65^th wedding anniversary celebration, where EVERYONE in the fam came (blogging on that to come); and discovering runner ducks. The other day, three of us went to lunch. We got take-out, and went to a local park with a pond, and were immediately set upon by ducks and Canada geese. In the mix was one lone runner duck. He was black, with one white feather on his chest – a West Virginia Daffy Duck. The poor guy kept getting chased away by a pissed off mallard drake. Forget chickens. I want a couple three runners.

I feel better already.

Buttermilk Brined Chicken Breasts - Fine Cooking

2009-06-28T14:34:00.002-04:00

Buttermilk Brined Chicken Breasts - Fine Cooking

Posted using ShareThis

This looks positively yummy! I'm marinating both breasts and thighs.

Sábado en Juanuchis Way

2009-06-27T18:23:00.006-04:00

I marvel that I'm sitting here in my office, looking out on our front lawn, and the pond below is obscured by trees. It seems like yesterday the trees were bare, the ground hard, and spring seemed so very far away.

I love spring, but it does depress me too, as it, like fall, is so beautiful yet transitory. I wish I could cling to both forever. But maybe their fleeting nature makes them all the more precious. I lived for 6 years in Florida, and a year in south Georgia, and the two things I missed most were a change of seasons, and the ebb and flow of robins.

I have an idea there are major changes afoot for me. At this point I can only hope to clamber up on the surfboard, or, as my dear friend Elliott said, dogpaddle for all I'm worth. And pray. And try to have faith. I have found that I had to revisit Better Living Through Chemistry to cope, after a gentle admonishment from my doctor.

Meanwhile, I have neglected my orchid cactus, that is epiphyllum. I finally brought it up from the basement, pulled off dead parts, and now it sits, akimbo, on the deck. It's not much now, only a few fronds/spikes/spathes/leaves/whatever they're called. I nearly gave up on it, when my sister noted that the epiphyllum that my late aunt, Mom and I have are all off a vintage plant. My sister, who is now living in my late aunt's house, says there's another bunch of cuttings root-bound in a jar of water. I'll take 'em!

Here is a photo of Mom's (aunt's, great aunt's) in its glory:

I can see that I could become an epiphyllum junkie. The blooms are palm-sized.

So, I ordered some cuttings on eBay, which I received today. These are "night-blooming cereus" or "Queen of the Night". I hope I can get them going. This is what they should look like in time:

Like I need another hobby. But epiphyllum is relatively cheap.

Straight Outta Compline

2009-06-27T08:03:00.001-04:00

Lyrics:

Straight outta compline!
Thinkin about goin to bed
Gotta say my prayers til the day I'm dead
I lead the boys instead down to the chapel and said:
"You gotta play the shepherd till the sheep are fed!"
I got street cred, eatin bread with the sinners on the block
Chillin in my civvies, representin in my cassock
I fast talk all around the clock
Bringin people to my parish like the rain to a mountain-top
Where's my Saviour at?
Hangin with my enemies!
Where are the meek?
Yo, they're just ahead o' me
They're enterin the kingdom
Praises? They sing dem
Where are my possessions?
Hey, I couldn't bring dem
The bells of the tower?
It's time to ring dem
You think you can dis me?
My bishop's name is Ingham!
I caught the altar guild pinchin my maniple
Pulled out my crozier 'cause I'm an animal
I'm not a cannibal in communion
Transubstantiation fuels this confusion
Straight outta Compline!

Straight outta Compline!
I'm a young priest who is fightin the beast
The only way to do it's when I'm facin the east
I'm from the west coast of PEI
And I wantcha to know that my church is fly
I teach the Word as a rector
And I wear a biretta
For I gotta long cope with black rope
And it gives Anglos hope
My bells and smells are so dope
I'm not Johnny Cash but I dress in black
I got thirty-nine buttons in front of my back
My collar is visible
With a Spirit formidable
And I'm kissable
Well Hiltz was his name
A bishop who rose to fame
Put me in the game
He got me talkin 'bout the trinity
So quick you get sick of me
Straight outta compline!

Straight outta compline!
Noddin to the speakers of Latin
Not combatin with the Romans, gettin ready for matins
A day stitched in prayer
A life sown in rhyme
Put your hands in the air and break it down like an enzyme
I genuflect to get the full effect
In front of my bishop elect
My knees are wrecked from kneelin down
I show respect to the office
I picked my shoes
I heard my call
I tell good news to the short and to the tall
Whether powerful or small, I tell em all
Despite the fall:
Humanity's in the ring, but it doesn't mean we hafta brawl!
I see ills that are curable
Amidst our stagnance our conscience is stirrable
Light up the incense
I'm swingin my thurible
Our apathy is turrible
Straight outta compline!

Padre Mateo Presenta: Lectio Divina

2009-06-26T17:34:00.001-04:00

Word.

2009-06-22T19:54:00.001-04:00

see more Funny Graphs

I should only look up...

2009-06-20T19:44:00.005-04:00

In recent months I've noticed red-tailed hawks in the vicinity -- not just soaring, but floating between the trees.

I also noticed large bird doo at the end of the driveway.

I picked up a beautiful feather at the end of the driveway. (And screw the "eagle feather law", I FOUND IT.)

Last weekend, when I came home, I happened to glance up at the oak tree that stands above our mailbox, and saw this:

It was nearly dusk when I took this photo, but how cool is that?

This also explains the great horned owl that awoke me some weeks ago. The hawks will give over their nests the following year to the owls, but build another nest not far away.

Both species are fascinating. I love the hawks, because for me, they have such a spiritual nature, like the soul's wings.

This is one reason I like where we live. Too bad I hate this damn house however.

Lluvia de bebé

2009-06-17T18:56:00.009-04:00

As some of you may know, I'm not a baby person or a kid person. Well, by and large I dislike most people. :) That said, my littlest niece is expecting her first baby in July. So her mother pressed me into assisting in a baby shower, and I was more than happy to oblige, even though I don't know crap about babies and their accouterments.

We also had a shoestring budget. No. We had NO budget. And that made the planning even more fun! Ann & I raided Mom's china cabinets. We decided that the theme would be no theme, that is, eclectic. We used all manner of Fostoria American for serving pieces, some varied china salad plates, my cousin's silver cutlery, and a mish-mosh of cloth cocktail napkins.

Great-grandma, Ann (mama) and I made sundry noshes -- and you KNOW I'm all about the cookin'! Ann found a cool idea in I think "Taste of Home" mag, that is, instead of a cake, we had a "trifle bar".

The spread.

The trifle bar! We used a mix of Candlewick and WV Glass goblets, and my cousin's silver iced tea spoons. First bowl was a selection of cubed cake: chocolate (brownies), pound and angelfood. Then a selection of berries: blackberries, raspberries, blueberries and strawberries. Vanilla pudding, chocolate pudding, Cool Whip. Maraschino cherries, chocolate syrup, and peanuts. Get the picture?

The nice thing about the Candlewick goblets was Mom (Grandma) saying they were a wedding gift nearly 65 years ago, and had never been used. She was thrilled that we used them for Mary!

Here's my effort at a "diaper cake". Let me tell you, my buying a big box of diapers REALLY wigged me out! Never in my wildest imagination did I think I'd ever buy diapers. But there you have it.

Mary, mama-to-be! Ain't she cute?

Jonathan Wesley K. is due July 20th, the day after Mom & Dad's 65th wedding anniversary. I'm betting that Wes won't wait that long!

If it's game time, it's pain time!

2009-06-15T18:16:00.001-04:00

Thanks to Evil Twin's Wife - even better than yesterday's Terry Tate.

Terry Tate Office Linebacker

2009-06-14T19:22:00.001-04:00

Oh, JOY!

2009-06-09T18:49:00.005-04:00

The Boys could barely contain their joy when Daddy came home with Uncle Luis in tow. Forget Daddy, "IT'S LUISSSSSSSSSSSS ohboyohboyohboy!!!"

Quiubo did not deign to embobarse for these shots.

Tee hee.

2009-06-09T10:31:00.001-04:00

see more dog and puppy pictures

Summer meditation

2009-06-07T10:31:00.002-04:00

Retail Therapy

2009-06-06T16:28:00.007-04:00

Sometimes ya just gotta do it.

Yesterday David went out of town for a couple days, taking our digital camera with him. Since I couldn't abide being without a camera lest I find That Perfect Shot upon which to blog, I found this little gem at Wal-mart. So far, I love it! Especially since it's red. Our perfectly fine camera is a Kodak DX-7590 which we bought about four years ago for $400+. And it's bulky.

Initially I had some buyer's remorse, even at the paltry sum of $129. As it turned out, I came out $130 ahead on my business trip to Florida last month, so TA-DA!

Mama! I'm making myself Tall! Can you see me?

Words to live by

2009-06-06T14:39:00.001-04:00

Courtesy of Roseann at Give Peace A Chance, Please!:

M****le W**p is a sin and an abomination. If you eat it you will spend extra time in purgatory. If you prefer it over Hellman's you will go to hell. That is all.

Truth in Graphs

2009-06-05T09:20:00.001-04:00

see more Funny Graphs

see more Funny Graphs

Insert Catchy Title Here

2009-06-02T19:41:00.008-04:00

Here is Lily, the Office Kitteh. Of course she’s the household kitteh, incredibly busy at the most inopportune moments – like when we want to sleep in.

The other day David called from the bedroom, “Is Lily in?” “Yes,” I called back, as Lily galumphed like a herd of bison down the hall toward to the bedroom. “Because there’s a cat outside that looks like Lily.”

I looked out the bathroom window – which was up with the screen – and sure enough there was a pretty grey tabby/white cat, with a collar, looking at us from about 20’ away. Lily was by this time in the window, and Annoyed. She’s very territorial, and intensely dislikes Mona, the outdoor cat. (Too bad, if we ever move, Mona is coming with us and becoming an inside cat; Lily is an inside cat.)

Segue: my mood has been plunging hard lately. I have too much shit in my mind, and I feel bereft and abandoned in a particular area (not David, not my family, not work). I feel so damn sad. I muddle on, because c’mon, it’s not THAT bad, is it?

As I left the driveway this morning, and started down the hill, tabby/white cat was lying smashed in the road, with collar. I broke down and cried off and on the entire 40 miles to work.

Despite the propensity here for people to let their pets run free, that the little thing had a collar meant she/he was loved by someone. Someone collected the body today.

I only hugged our doggies closer tonight, and Lily too (though she’s prickly).

I’m liable to fall apart if I see a box turtle trying to cross the road. If I can pull off safely, I’ll collect it and put it somewhere safe.

Snapping turtles are on their own. Don’t get emotional over them.

Anyway, I really want to hide under thick down covers. Susan Boyle was taken off to a mental health facility for a “rest”. My that sounds nice.

Pentecost

2009-05-31T20:37:00.006-04:00

I went to church, wearing my best Pentecost red aloha shirt. It was grand.

I also found Pentecost red dahlias at Wal-mart. Gorgeous, no?

I realize I'm remiss with my dog photos, in that I seem to neglect Quiubo.

Golden hug.

Trying to ... with Bruno's help.

Happy Birthday, Benny!

2009-05-30T20:55:00.000-04:00

When there were gods:

Tired of Hiatii. Hiatus. Hiatuses.

2009-05-30T18:42:00.007-04:00

It seems that when I take a blogging hiatus, however brief, I find it damn near impossible to finding something upon which to comment/pontificate/muse. I was so gratified to have blogged two weeks ago, being so proud of myself for digging up my modest garden.

After a mere two hours or so of that last blog post, a series of strong storms swept through, and the satellite went down.

And stayed down.

For a week and a half.

As it turned out – following several calls to Hughes tech support somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant – ~~a temporal disturbance~~ the wind had knocked the antenna out of alignment, i.e., it was loose. We have evidently been credited for this inconvenience, which in itself is a minor miracle with this company. It amuses me that they send customer surveys after trouble calls. So far I haven’t completed one, though I have them in my email queue. I’m sure if I did I would come off, well, as not particularly culturally enlightened.

I must admit, Memorial Day weekend was rather nice without the computer as a distraction. We had dinner twice with friends of ours, and both times were great fun. Firing up the grill is always a grand thing (memo to self: hub needs to bring in the new propane take tonight). I try to use the stove/oven as little as possible during the warmer months. Besides, while I still need to pot the flora I noted earlier, we do have quite a nice sitting area outside now that the old Jacuzzi is gone.

I have done naught with the front porch, despite David’s removing the odious rose of Sharon and sundry hideous landscaping. I did buy a couple wave petunias at Kroger, for a mere $9 each. Wal-mart had hanging ‘tunias for cheaper, but they weren’t waves, and they were much neglected.

Anyway, without the computer, I cleaned up a bit, and ended up finally breaking open the shrink-wrap on the DVD set of The Tudors first season. I’m nearly through with that set, and have Season Two en route. In the interim, I read the latest in the Liturgical Mysteries, “The Diva Wore Diamonds”. You people MUST go to St. James Music Press and order these novels! Well, it does help if you’re an Episcopalian. Even if you’re RC or Lutheran, you’ll get the humor.

We’re just coming out of the weeklong monsoon, and I’m gratified that my modest garden seems to be doing well. (This despite David cutting down two cukes.) I’m so happy that 12 of the 16 half-runner beans Mom gave me have sprouted. If all 12 stay healthy, I should still have plenty to can. I hope.

Meanwhile, His Majesty enjoys the sun. It can be 100 degrees, and yet, he’ll bask.

Goggie Blogging

2009-05-17T19:10:00.006-04:00

His Majesty, Bruno

Gleason: "I'm ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille."

"I said, I'M READY FOR MY CLOSE UP!!!!"

Festivals and Farming

2009-05-17T16:52:00.012-04:00

For the 28th year in a row, I have missed the Strawberry Festival grand feature parade. My last visit to the parade would have been 1981, and I would have been marching in it – I was a band geek, you see. And the Lewis County Marching Minutemen was a kick-ass band at the time.

Nonetheless, I did venture into town Friday en route to Weston for my monthly hair appointment. I was on a pork BBQ quest. I had it on good authority that good pulled-pork was to be had, with strawberry BBQ sauce. Of course, the idea of strawberry BBQ sauce was what intrigued me. Some would say BLASPHEMY! I say, why not?
Sadly, said BBQ sauce was a culinary Loch Ness monster – rumored but unproven.

Not to be dissuaded, I did partake of pork BBQ, and it was quite good as served up by Buckhannon’s own Jaws BBQ (actually located in beautiful metropolitan Ivanhoe).

Perhaps my source was mistaken, because Jaws was the only BBQ joint I could see, and they did serve up strawberry-infused dill pickles. The strawberry made the pickles milder than usual, and as you can see, provided a decidedly non-pickle hue.

However, I now have a yen to make pulled pork my own self, and maybe try to fashion a strawberry BBQ sauce. Again I say, why not? Think about it: macerate the berries, sauté sweet onion and jalapeño and go from there.

David was away for the last couple days, visiting his daughter and granddaughter. I took this opportunity to buy plants. I bought tomatoes, peppers and cukes from a local organic place. Yesterday I went to Lowe’s for flowers.

As I said, I have despaired of a vegetable garden this year. Yet, while the interior and the front landscaping are rack and ruin, I laid into the little plot at the side, where previous tenants had a garden. Two or three years ago I put some toms there. I was frustrated in digging it up because the previous denizens had laid down plastic. Why? Why? Because beneath the platic, the clay was like cement.

Yet I have discovered the joys of a spade fork, a hearty pitchfork, which can toss the weeds with little effort. A well-invested $25. It dug the clay and my old dirt, and tossed the weeds. After about three hours of work, the veggies are in, as well as 16 half-runner seeds pushed into the soil along the chain-link fence.

I still must pot the flowers for the deck, but here are two that I found particularly striking:

Geranium 'Martha Washington'

And now, some additional photos that I took after busting my ass in the garden:

West Virginia's State Flower

My chives, that come up every year despite sitting in a water-logged galvanized tub

Our front yard, that David hasn't gotten around to mowing yet, for which I'm grateful given a sight like this.

Black Velvet

2009-05-15T21:44:00.006-04:00

On Palm Sunday, I posted about the abyss. While I can in no way compare myself to Jesus, since then I have been deep within an abyss of my own. I think I’m on an upswing. Maybe.

I’ll admit that I have been remiss in seeing my shrink. I let my meds run out, simply because I figured I can save money and just pull myself up by my bootstraps. Additionally, while I felt “better” on the medication, I didn’t feel “right”. It’s hard to explain, but those with similar afflictions will understand. So, in short order, the oppressing velvet blackness came upon me layer upon layer. I continue to function, I go through the motions, I explore that abyss that encompasses my soul, or maybe it is my soul.

Deep within that abyss is a core of creativity. It’s just a matter of peeling away the inky blackness over it. Work – my “career” of 22 years – is a fecking chore. I have no satisfaction at all, and I struggle through each day of not being challenged, and my creativity being laid waste. At home, the place is a mess, worse than when we had moving boxes around. It’s so bad that my despair has frozen me into inaction. My hope for a nice vegetable garden has all but evaporated, as has any hope of decent landscaping. I feel like I have no control over anything, which is why the other day I tossed a PILE of papers from my cube into the passageway (at work), before bagging them for the burn. It was truly a passive-aggressive fit, a tiny bit of rebellion and control (I have vowed that if I haven’t looked at an item in 3 weeks, it’s gone, as is my memory thereof).

I’m only scraping the surface, just to give my few readers a synopsis. As it turns out, two of my blogging friends have helped me more than they know, helped me to peel back the blackness, even if it’s a glimmer of light.

First, Buzzardbilly passed out a blog award, then in response to a comment of mine on a different post of hers, she said:

Janis, Yes, and I'm a huge dumbass because your name sure as hell should have been on the list to get one of those awards! Go get one, please.

Of course, she is far from being a dumbass! She does understand these demon annoyances that plague me, however.

And in the same vein of blog awards, the Blonde Goddess gave me one ages ago, and I haven’t posted it until now. She’s a killer.

TRConnie made a punch through the ink in the last couple days. Most recently was her post of Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot”, where she pointed out this verse:

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
“I am half sick of shadows,” said The Lady of Shalott.

She also waxed eloquently on a dressing table. What an astonishing thing. I have never used a dressing table. Connie is right that it is a thing of beauty in itself, and an oasis of care for a woman.

I am by nature independent, but the thought of pampering myself at a dressing table is alluring. Sublime even. To that end, I have here my Nana’s dressing table, pristine yet forlorn.

I would hope that if we move to the Big House, I can mount lights on either side of the mirror.

In the meantime, the black velvet billows in the breeze.

String!

2009-05-14T18:42:00.002-04:00

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Yes! String! I love string. Tape is cool also.

I love naps.

I love hiding and not giving a shit.

Well. More to come.

Maybe.

STRING!

He is Risen!

2009-04-26T19:30:00.009-04:00

Yes, as of two weeks ago.

You see, Easter is not just Easter Sunday … the Easter season starts on Easter Sunday. And it’s a joyous thing, coinciding with spring. (Yes, yes, there are all the arguments of the Church co-opting ancient beliefs and all that, which is true, but not germane to my rambling.)

Where has the time gone? It’s been TWO WEEKS since a spectacular Easter Sunday. That day was brilliantly sunny, temps in the low 60’s. The service was warm and comforting. Mom, my sister Ann and her husband Danny, David and myself took up a pew up front, where we could observe the joyously-decorated sanctuary.

Thereafter we adjourned to Mom & Dad’s, where we found Dad in good spirits and ready for some spirits. Mom, Ann & I had a marvelous time chatting while I prepared dinner (grilled boneless leg of lamb, Greek salad, roasted potatoes). As we guffawed over various and sundry, and after I had put the lamb on the grill, Mom realized that she had been so obsessing over my preparations that she had forgotten her Parker House rolls!

Mind, making these rolls takes some time and energy. After the first rise, there is careful manipulation, ensuring each roll is of the same size and shape, the cutting with the biscuit cutter, the little notch then fold …
Well, as you can see, Mom did this rather hurriedly, straight from the fridge, and needless to say, much hilarity ensued.

And here, they came out absolutely fine. They may not have been as light as they usually are, but exceedingly edible.

Here is the grilled lamb, and even more importantly, Mom's deviled eggs.

It was a grand day! Dad had an excellent appetite also, which is always cause for celebration.

Saturday's List - Updated

2009-04-10T18:47:00.004-04:00

1. ~~Drink tea~~ whist putting away dishes and cleaning up kitchen.
2. Make b’fast (Ate at Huddle House)
3. ~~Clean bathrooms~~; toss out trash building up in bedroom.
4. ~~Wash bathroom mats and such.~~
5. ~~Wash sofa covers.~~
6. ~~Vacuum and dust living room.~~
7. Repot plants; start half-runners.
8. ~~Haul shit out of old office.~~
9. Move antique secretary to old office now sewing room/pet enclave.
10. Clean dining room.
11. ~~Clean Buckwheat’s and Claudius’ cages; empty Lily’s litterbox and refill.~~
12. Work on Buckwheat’s “puppy cut”.
13. ~~Go to store for Easter dinner stuff and sundries.~~
14. Throw a load of clothes in the laundry.

Mind, there are TWO humans in this household. It remains to be seen how the chores divvy up. Rest assured, I get the bathroom. I always do. And I did. David did a few of the above-stricken things, but he was quite the Grump about it. I received the Silent Treatment for quite awhile.

The Typewriter

2009-04-10T16:54:00.002-04:00

CLICKY!!

Good Friday

2009-04-10T16:30:00.003-04:00

2001, George Linn Bland, Jr.

John 18:1-19:42

After Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the Kidron valley to a place where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered. Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, because Jesus often met there with his disciples. So Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and torches and weapons. Then Jesus, knowing all that was to happen to him, came forward and asked them, "Whom are you looking for?" They answered, "Jesus of Nazareth." Jesus replied, "I am he." Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them. When Jesus said to them, "I am he," they stepped back and fell to the ground. Again he asked them, "Whom are you looking for?" And they said, "Jesus of Nazareth." Jesus answered, "I told you that I am he. So if you are looking for me, let these men go." This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken, "I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me." Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest's slave, and cut off his right ear. The slave's name was Malchus. Jesus said to Peter, "Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?"

So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.

Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, "You are not also one of this man's disciples, are you?" He said, "I am not." Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing around it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself.

Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, "I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said." When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, "Is that how you answer the high priest?" Jesus answered, "If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?" Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.

Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, "You are not also one of his disciples, are you?" He denied it and said, "I am not." One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, "Did I not see you in the garden with him?" Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed.

Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate's headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, "What accusation do you bring against this man?" They answered, "If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you." Pilate said to them, "Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law." The Jews replied, "We are not permitted to put anyone to death." (This was to fulfill what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.)

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" Pilate replied, "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here." Pilate asked him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." Pilate asked him, "What is truth?"

After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, "I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?" They shouted in reply, "Not this man, but Barabbas!" Now Barabbas was a bandit.

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe. They kept coming up to him, saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" and striking him on the face. Pilate went out again and said to them, "Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no case against him." So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, "Here is the man!" When the chief priests and the police saw him, they shouted, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" Pilate said to them, "Take him yourselves and crucify him; I find no case against him." The Jews answered him, "We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has claimed to be the Son of God."

Now when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever. He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, "Where are you from?" But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, "Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?" Jesus answered him, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin." From then on Pilate tried to release him, but the Jews cried out, "If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor."

When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside and sat on the judge's bench at a place called The Stone Pavement, or in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover; and it was about noon. He said to the Jews, "Here is your King!" They cried out, "Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!" Pilate asked them, "Shall I crucify your King?" The chief priests answered, "We have no king but the emperor." Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.

So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, "Do not write, 'The King of the Jews,' but, 'This man said, I am King of the Jews.'" Pilate answered, "What I have written I have written." When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it." This was to fulfill what the scripture says,

"They divided my clothes among themselves,and for my clothing they cast lots."And that is what
the soldiers did.

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.

After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), "I am thirsty." A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, "It is finished." Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

Since it was the day of Preparation, the Jews did not want the bodies left on the cross during the sabbath, especially because that sabbath was a day of great solemnity. So they asked Pilate to have the legs of the crucified men broken and the bodies removed. Then the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and of the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out. (He who saw this has testified so that you also may believe. His testimony is true, and he knows that he tells the truth.) These things occurred so that the scripture might be fulfilled, "None of his bones shall be broken." And again another passage of scripture says, "They will look on the one whom they have pierced."

After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

And so, to the wait...

Humorous intermission

2009-04-10T16:11:00.001-04:00

This is the spittin' image of my beloved late Ahrnold. And it's pretty much an accurate picture of my mood lately.

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Maundy Thursday

2009-04-09T20:13:00.004-04:00

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand." Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet." Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me." Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean."

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord--and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them."

Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, `Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

Today is Maundy Thursday. I would presume that “Maundy” comes from the Latin “mandare”, “to order”, and in here, Jesus certainly orders.

So simple these words: “Love one another”.

Yet so hard.

I have been hating lately. I suppose more accurately, I’ve just been annoyed to the point of blowing an ovary. The “black dog” of depression (as I think Churchill put it) has been dragging at my heels for nearly two weeks now. This house is an absolute wreck inside, and I despair that we will do anything with a garden or landscaping outside. I’m frozen into immobility to face it all. It’s a miracle I can even function at work right now, but I reckon that futzing with PowerPoint presentations somewhat appeals to my creative side.

I cannot stop worrying about things over which I have no control. I am under a deep blanket of despair, and bless David, the best he can muster is “cheer up”.

I went to work this morning, crying and hating as I went. Little by little, the fog lifted. It hasn’t completely gone, but reflecting on Holy Week has helped.

When I get so hateful with everything, I look down on everybody. They’re all fools. Filthy. Useless. An impediment. Leave me the hell alone, all of you.

And I think this is what Jesus is teaching me in this Gospel – to humble myself but yet I’m a worthy person.

I’m so not there.

Surely, not I?

2009-04-05T19:11:00.002-04:00

On this day, the Gospel of Mark reveals that Jesus entered Jerusalem mounted on a colt, with the crowd singing praises and laying palms along the beast’s path. Later we find Jesus and the Twelve in the upper room, where Jesus stuns his disciples with the news that one will betray Him.

“Surely, not I?” they ask in turn.

“Surely, not I!” they exclaim.

Surely, not I.

Lent is drawing to a close, with this day beginning the holiest week of the Christian calendar. Forty days in the desert, days of meditation and denial, with the darkest week ahead – a week of betrayal.

Surely, not I.

Lent can be the darkest days of winter, even though the dance between Earth and Sun brings spring to us in the northern hemisphere.

This Lent has been particularly dark. Two people in my life were betrayed, one by his body, one by his mind. Friends and family of both were betrayed by their untimely deaths. Others are, as I write this, being betrayed by their bodies and minds. My own mind betrays me, and at times the only way I think I can keep the betrayal at bay is through medication, art, and/or sheer force of will.

“Surely, not I” begins the denial of Holy Week. Simon Peter echoes the refrain thrice. The three weeks of Lent prior to this day has been a minor denial compared to what begins this day.

This denial, this betrayal, left Jesus bereft and alone. (Note: where are the other disciples is the story? Peter, James and John sleep in Gethsemane. Peter follows, and yet, pleads ignorant.) Jesus takes on all our sadness, our loneliness, our fear, our denials, our betrayals, and offers them up on the Cross, along with his own, very human fear of betrayal: “Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?”

This week we walk with Jesus into the abyss.

This week we walk with Him, not denying Him, not betraying Him. We walk hand-in-hand.

We can say with confidence: “Not I.”

2009-04-01T19:48:00.001-04:00

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On angels' wings

2009-03-30T09:52:00.005-04:00

Lee McKinley Davenport

April 13, 1968-March 29, 2009

Our dear friend Lee has left us far, far too early. Lee was a devout father, loyal friend, and a solid Episcopalian who loved our Lord. He was a rare talent whose gift was writing. I will miss his wit, but Heaven will laugh with him.

Please hold his two young children, Ian and Bea, as well as his wife Dawn, in your thoughts and prayers.

Rest with the angels, and rise in glory, dear friend.

This week we have asked "why" so many, many times. We will always miss him, for he touched us deeply. Depression is a demon that at times -- wins. At least in this physical world. I have every confidence that Lee has found the peace that has eluded him for so long.

Godspeed, Lee.

Nicked from Mad Priest

2009-03-27T17:56:00.001-04:00

One evening a Husband, thinking he was being funny, said to his wife, "Perhaps we should start washing your clothes in 'Slim Fast'. Maybe it would take a few inches off of your butt! "

His wife was not amused, and decided that she simply couldn't let such a comment go unrewarded.

The next morning the husband took a pair of underwear out of his drawer. "What the Hell is this?" he said to himself as a little dust cloud appeared when he shook them out.

"April," he hollered into the bathroom. "Why did you put Talcum Powder in my underwear?"

She replied, "It's not talcum powder; it's Miracle Grow."

2009-03-26T12:07:00.000-04:00

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Improvise. Adapt.

2009-03-22T17:59:00.007-04:00

Part 3 of the above has not been achieved yet.

Yesterday David & I continued to work on moving the office from one end of the house to the other. Things were going SO well. We had gotten the honkin' big desk apart into its two major components, and had the larger portion moving nicely through the living room, David pulling, me pushing and guiding it, with my end on a furniture dolly. Then, the dolly got hung up on the rug just as David tugged, and ***RIIIIIIPSNAP*** the damn thing broke in two. BROKE IN TWO, to reveal all its "Made in China"-compressed-wood-powder glory.

There it lies, in our trashy woodpile (or woody trashpile). The biggest frustration is also our biggest mistake. We bought that desk back in 2006 when we were setting up the home office for our biz. Mistake #1: purchased at Sam's Club. Mistake #2: Purchased for $600. Just. Kill. Me.

So, at 10:15 a.m. we faced a conundrum: what to do about a desk? So out we went, and ended up going to Staples in Clarksburg. We came home with another fine product made in China, but this one for $99. Here is a photo of the actual box:

So, while this too may be a piece of shit, at least it's a truly cheap piece of shit. But so far it seems to be working out fine, and actually looks better in the new office than the busted desk would have.

And since I was outside taking a photo of the busted desk, I took some more of the ugly landscaping

Scraggly shit, dead shit, rocks.

Hideous pinage. I have NO idea what's up with the tree on the left. Oh wait: IT'S HIDEOUS.

There would be a headless BVM.

Sticks, leaves, weeds and rock.

Tomorrow I'm off to try to deal with some of the vast mess still at hand. I hope I can then post part 3: OVERCOME.

Spring cleaning ...

2009-03-20T19:39:00.008-04:00

... or more accurately, Spring shifting. David decided to move the office from its current location in what amounts to an ad hoc sunroom to one of the guest bedrooms. He proposed this after Hughes installed the new satellite internet system a month or so ago. Of course, Hughes technician said he'd have to call Hughes and arrange for a tech to come back and re-route the cable.

Pshaw! This past Wednesday, David took a hair and started the process. He climbed up to the antenna, located the 3 miles of cable, brought it down to the end of house, drilled into the house, and connected the cable in the target room (totally opposite the current office) and lo! the internet worked.

Meanwhile, he started to dismantle the office and move stuff. Houston, we have a problem, the likes of which cannot be adequately expressed in a photograph. The one remaining guest room is chock full of clothing: folded, unfolded, shit we can wear, shit we can't. Other stuff. You cannot get in there now, now that blue room has encroached thereupon.

Ultimately, I hope this weekend, office will be in the blue room. The former office will house the dog crates, parrot cage, rabbit hutch, cat litter box, some plants, and my sewing machine. In the meantime, here is the situation:

Old office/sunroom/soon-to-be-animal/greenhouse/sewing room.

Dining room with the flotsam and jetsam of the old office/sunroom. I have a book problem, obviously.

New office. Sometime.