Monday, February 28, 2011

now listening to...

Love Love LURVESES this Vitamin Quartet version of Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet

That's going on me iPod. Here's to orchestral ass-shakery.


Sunday, February 27, 2011

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: the pups of others, extreme redneck edition

Thursday night I pulled up to a convenience store in Small Town and up pulls this big swinging redneck truck. A tall rednecky guy got out and sauntered into the store. I looked over and saw a white, fuzz-ballish thing looking back at me. Is that a...? Can it be a...?

Yes, big rednecky guy had a little white dog in a pink fluffy parka with fur trim around the hoodie. I went in the store and said "your dog is adorable. What kind is it?" He shuddered like I didn't know the half of it. He said "she's a schnauzer, and she's the devil. She's plumb awful and she gets whatever she wants." I got the feeling she's not a benevolent dictator.

Yup. Looks pretty devilish.

Heh. heh.
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Saturday, February 26, 2011

okay, so this is about my pretty Praline.

I wish I had a picture or a video, but when I got back home from seeing my parents last weekend, she was on the back of the couch to be as close as possible to me, and she was so excited and wiggle-buttlian that she very nearly levitated. I willingly surrender my heart again and again to such innocent, unbridled exuberance. The boy was nearly as happy, but he's more grounded and not quite so air-worthy as his sleek big Sissy. My pups continually affirm my belief that they are chief among life's greatest rewards.

Who could not love dogs like that? Such good and sweet little puppies, and they love their momma, too.

Note to people if you're seeking new homes for your dogs: You may have better luck if the photo in your mass email doesn't show your dog sporting his lipstick.

Not to be mean or anything.

Friday, February 25, 2011


I said some nice things on the obituary site about WBB but someone had them removed. I am sorry you are so small-minded and limited that you can't be a basically decent human being and let me say my peace. It must be horrid to be you. I'm so glad to have no further contact with your limited, condescending, narrow-minded sphere.

This is my tribute to a very lovely gentleman who was alive to knowledge and learning. I will always admire him tremendously, and I know he felt the same of me. I saw his eyes alight with intelligent mirth when I whipped out a quip, and the uncomfortable looking sidewise when someone insipid said something, well, insipid. He recognized my intelligence and I celebrate his. I'm sorry that all in the clan could not merit from his example.

House vs. Bridge

White River at Calico Rock in Arkansas, March 2008.

Thinking of the renovation/refurb on my house, it is perhaps troubling that this video keeps coming to mind. Let Mother Nature take her course, scrap the place and start all over. :P Just kidding. Still, you never imagine you'd see a perfectly good house being thrown out like that.

I wonder if the people who lived there ever figured out where their house ended up? It's probably better not to know...

Thursday, February 24, 2011

What do we value?

This article on Iraq war veteran Anthony Maschek who was booed at a forum at Columbia University was dazzling. Maschek was booed for saying he thinks ROTC should be allowed on the campus at Columbia 42 years after it was banned from that campus, and clearly the majority of students gathered there vehemently disagreed with him on that score.

That Maschek was booed by a bunch of Ivy League brats was unconscionable, but I found the following poster laughable to a staggering degree:

This sign says The military preys on low income communities.

What amazes me about that is the fact that for several years, I've been hearing more and more rumbling about useless degrees and certifications young American students are financing through universities and trade schools. Where is the outrage about young, naive people being exploited by the abject greed of a university system which-- like our Social Security system-- relies on steady growth of the influx of new students to prop up its unwieldy burden of tenured academecians and infrastructure?

Where is the outrage about universities enrolling still more students for degree programs for which graduates will find no market upon completion? The wisdom and morality of such a practice is truly so complex that it escapes me utterly. Hopefully someone will enlighten me.

Further, our military is voluntary, not conscripted. Countless men and women in the USA have been able to pull themselves together by virtue of the structure the military afforded them. That's not just poor folks-- Americans from all social strata have found purpose and direction for their own lives because of the discipline of life as an enlistee.

I'm not saying I think universities are all bad or that the military is preferable or vice-versa, but I do think it's the height of arrogance and vapidity that politically correct university students would presume to speak for everyone. The funny thing is that they'd probably be the first to describe themselves as "open-minded" and "accepting of others' viewpoints."

How infantile.

As often occurs, the real gems of the article are to be mined in the comments. I especially appreciated that of Rob:

I love the sign. The military preys on low income communities. First of all, no one is EVER forced to join the military. If a person signs and did it without making an informed decision, whose fault is that?

Secondly, all I can say is "Thank God"! If it weren't for the military, I would have been stuck in a horrible neighborhood in urban Detroit, and I would have never had the opportunities that allowed me to go to college, get a degree and teach.

So, thank you, military, for targeting me (so to speak) and helping me create a better life for me and my kids.

Ah, bless 'im.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

"You're almost beautiful!"

It's funny this story has not been told me before recently. I think it was Christmas, I was at Mom and Dad's house, and I said something complimentary to Mom and Dad grinned on hi-beam and said "you're almost beautiful!" Mom laughed heartily and I asked to what they referred.

Apparently it was 40 or more years ago, and I was a very little girl. Mom was all dolled up for something, probably an awards banquet for the folks at Schilling Motors in Memphis, where Dad worked. I remember her in some stylish heels covered with glittery silver lamé. Quite posh and elegant. Mom was smokin' hot and always tastefully got up. [ I remember a little boy in my class saying "hubba, hubba" when she walked in one day. Seems like the little boys were very alert when she came in the room.]

Anyhoo, Mom proceeded to tell me she and Dad were going somewhere all those years ago and I saw her decked out in her finery and I gushed "Momma! You're almost beautiful!" She said it was her favourite compliment she's ever gotten.

She knew what I meant. She really was beautiful. And she still is.

Being a Mom is one of the toughest jobs going. To be a Mom is to be the constant in the lives of the people she loves, and to be the very hub of the wheel that keeps everyone in motion. To be a Mom is to be sought for comfort, when often those very same people don't think to ask if her heart is breaking, too. A good Mother is as vital as the stitching that holds the silk of a balloon together, gossamer-fine, almost disappearing into the fabric, and yet so essential to the proper function of that cloth and the key to the survival of the souls it carries aloft. Moms are easy to take for granted, but we are so very lucky to have them.

I'm very lucky to have mine, and I love her very much.

Your first October baby will always think you're almost beautiful, Mom.
Happy Birthday. I love you.

Test #1

I squeed my pants.

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Thinking of New Zealand

and the lovely people from there. Kiwis make the world a better place, and I hope their recovery from this latest earthquake is swift.

Goat licks electric fence

He ain't real bright, but he sure makes me giggle. Reminds me of some people I know.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011


Um. I KNOW I have some non-girlie bandaids around here-- I just didn't have them at hand when I had to don my Nursie cap. Making a mental note to get a more manly stripe of plaster for the odd moments when the garbage trolley goes rogue.

The patient is fine, btw, and after irrigating the area, I sent a photo to Ambulance Driver for advice. The goose-egg lump is the worst part of it. Poor dear! You'll also be happy to hear the garbage trolley was not rendered unusable by the assault. Well, not entirely.

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Monday, February 21, 2011

Now Playing: PJ Harvey's Battleship Hill

Love the new CD. Let England Shake features harsh texts which contrast with lush instrumentation and soaring vocals. This is my favorite track from the CD. White Chalk remains one of my favorite albums of all time, mostly because even with the dark subtext, the music was not bleak but was austere-- a marked distinction. PJ Harvey productions always evolve for me. They start off seeming to be one thing at first glance-- upon first listen, and over time layers unfold, revealing new details that tend to up-end my first impressions. Always a fun journey.

Cruel nature has won again...

Man Names daughter Facebook

Careful there, dude. I heard that PetRock murdered her parents in their sleep when she hit puberty. Add to that the fact that you'd better hope that there little revolution of yours ends up the way you want, else the bad guys may just set an example by putting down your litte girl who committed the double-sin of being born female and having a name redolent of uprising against your oppressors.

A doorable.

I've spent a goodly bit of time recently considering updates/improvements to my house. I've mentioned that the primary task soon will be a complete re-wiring of mi casa. This has everything to do with safety and nary a whit to do with aesthetics. Frankly, I'd rather spend those thousands on something pretty, but I clearly need to re-wire my thinking, because nothing's a prettier thought to think than that my pups are safe in my house when I'm away.

That said, the grode factor of the kitchen-- while technically clean-- still oogies me out a bit, and I'm on the horns of a dilemma with regard to what to do. The 1931 metal cabinets are not horridly out of form, but they are covered by 3/4 century of contact paper, (doubtlessly lead) paint, and whatever much couldn't be scrubbed out in the days of toil I spent trying to clean them properly prior to moving in last year. I'm in a state of sticker shock, actually-- I can't believe that for my small kitchen I'd be looking at $5000 - $7000 for cabinets and counters I would find to my liking. Now my thoughts have turned to simply adding a wood cabinetry island (part of my cunning plan all along) and taking out the metal cabinets for a proper strip/de-grode/exorcism, but we'll see. One thing that drives me round the bend is that two of the upper cabinets were hung not flush together, so I can see goodness-knows-how-many years of grot in that 1/4" space in between them. It's just been too gross to tackle...

I can see miles of daylight around the front and back doors. Seconds and Surplus in Dallas has these amazing doors. Either of these doors would work for me, stylistically, and for a heavy solid wood door, I think the $600-ish tag is not bad. I'd leave them natural-looking, but I guess I'd need to wax them or seal them to keep them from getting grimy?

Oh, and they don't have lots of the smaller bits and bobs, but S&S is an outstanding place for door casing, baseboard and crown molding. Seriously, their prices were about 1/4 of what I priced my crown molding to be here in Backwoods Burgh.

Anyhoo, this was all food for thought, and I suppose the whole grand project will be taking shape in months to come. It's going to take a lot of creativity to work around the sheer financial daunt of the whole thing. Fingers crossed and all that. I'll settle for the outlay of cash being more than I'd hoped but far less than I'd feared.

Spent Saturday night with my lovely parents. We went to breakfast and we talked about a trailer we rented in 1967 when I was a wee girl. We laughed so hard. That story will be coming soon. Nice weekend, but it's good to be home with teh puppehs.

Cheers, m'dears!
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Sunday, February 20, 2011

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: sweet little nappers

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Saturday, February 19, 2011

Won't you take me to... skunky town?

Lots of folks from work were celebrating a promotion of one of our lot, and I caved in to peer pressure and went out to local waterin' hole "Hawgs & Heifers." Actually, it was nice to see the co-workers in a very relaxed and jolly setting, even if it wasn't my cup of tea. I abstained from the demon likker, as I have a wonky headlight thing going on and felt it more likely than usual to be pulled over. Still, this was good people-watching stuff and you really want to see that sober. My former boss was there and commented on my lack of drink and I said "if it came in a bottle, everyone would be this crazy." I promised to hold a co-worker's hair while she puked, but left well in advance of that event.

That line dancing is something else. There seem to be certain songs they're all just waiting for, and they trot out onto the dancefloor and do their little routine. Is kind of cute, and kind of baffling.

I got a coke, which was .75 with free refills. Sadly, the glass was teeny and full of ice, so I had to sashay a mile over to the bar a couple times and that's when I saw him. Remember Devo? A stare-bear geezer at the bar watched me walk by, and it kind of grossed me out. I mean, I looked quite possibly the worst I've ever looked in public. The only way I could have looked more crap would have been if I'd just been doing yard-work all day. Total. Crap.

He was the fascinating one, and I had to steal my peek discreetly, lest he think I was starin' back. He looked plastic like 80's Devo, only with Western Shirt and no-shit cowboy hat and pearly white framed überdork glasses. Surreal.
Anyway, me not love you long-time, but you're rocking that oddball look, dude. You should go with that. Lots of people spend a lot of dosh on booze and drugs that get them to my natural state. Nice work, if you can get it. Stay strange, baby.
I moseyed over to the bathroom and the bracing white fluourescent lights seared the back of my brain. How do drunk people go in here? Srsly. I soon appreciated that this room smelled not so much of smoke as of bleachy-cleany product, and I approved.

Back at the table, I waited a polite interval and then finally made my excuses and departed, eager to breathe in deeply out in the fresh night air. I pushed open the door and inhaled deeply only to get a schnozz full of Eau de Skunk. This is the skunkiest place I've ever seen. You rarely see them alive, but they litter the roadways, and their scent is everywhere.

Ah, the joys of Spring. Have a great weekend! By the way, don't you love my wonky art? Clearly I'm starved to make things. I really need to crank the jewelry machine back into production. Coming soon: Dysfunctional Greeting Card line.

I'm not kidding.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Lo, and verily here be much kicking of le shit

Oh em gee! It's an honest to

goodness Texas line dance. I'm sure this must look better on booze.

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Conan, the Barbarian: the musical

On her blog lyger lyger, the lovely and talented Carrie has posted this, and it's too sides-huggingly wonderful not to pass along. Especially the unintelligible bit near the end.

hear the lamentation of the wimmin!

Thursday, February 17, 2011


I was talking to my dear friend Lin on the phone about my plans for the kitchen ceiling. I've posted some photos of the beadboard progression, and I expect that if the weather continues fine, the remainder of the beadboard for the living room can be finished staining and put up within a week. I was thinking of the kitchen ceiling, next. Once I'd talked about putting in tin ceiling, but had not thought of that in a long time. Lin suggested I revisit that idea, and oh! Be still my beating heart.

I expect to order my tiles from The American Tin Ceiling Tile Co. The dazzling array of color/finish combinations coupled with the myriad design prospects truly make me happy in my pants. Yes, it's Interior Design Pr0n. (See rule #34). I've been drooling over this stuff for hours.

I definitely definitely definitely want a bunch of these white deco gumdrop looking pendant lamps for accent(in the top photo). I'm quite taken with the idea of the tin with the transparent red glaze that looks like a true candied apple finish(though I probably won't use that) for backsplash. Then there's the idea of the verdegris with the high copper relief. What color to choose? This is going to be exciting. The plain white enamel is fetching enough on its own. But then the plain metal is beautiful, too, with just a sealant to prevent rust.

This is going to be exciting. I hate having to choose, though. This is not like shoes you can change every day. I'll be resolved to absolutely love what I do settle on, but in the meantime, the array of choices is almost overwhelming. Not quite, though. Revisiting the happy-in-my-pants theme, this site totally gives me girlwood. :P

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Great. I'm glad you're coming with us on this one.

Wow. Just wow.

KABUL, Afghanistan — International and local human rights groups working in Afghanistan have shifted their focus toward condemning abuses committed by the Taliban insurgents, rather than those attributed to the American military and its allies.

Rilly? Taliban is out there murdering innocent, peace-loving folks? Ya think? It's a shame no one on the planet had the balls to lift a finger and try to do something about it, isn't it?

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

...and leads to another...

TOTWTYTR put a post up of his favorite Texas songs, inspired by Sabra's list of the her favorite Texas songs.

Gems on both those posts, but I have one particular favourite that did not make their lists, and it came from Chris Rea's excellent 1989 Road To Hell Album. yeah, I said album. Anyway, there's several versions of this on YouTube, but this one's still my favorite. :) I posted this about 4 years ago, but I don't think it would offend to put it up again. :)

Embedding is disabled on this one, but I have to link this superb live recording from Moscow Kremlin Place in 1998. Love love love that guitar work. Love that gravely baritone.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

I'm not choked up, but I AM feeling a little emotional.

Weekend Round-up.

OK. My house has a startling dearth of closet and cupboard space, and what cupboards there are-- sadly-- sport a grode quotient which makes me leery to put much in them, especially of things that will be used for food preparation or serving. Thus am I awaiting the day* when I'll have some other, new and capacious cupboards installed here. Until that time, I have a sizeable storage unit in town and it's very full.

Today, I brought home and unpacked 3 boxes from the storage unit. One of the boxes I filled when I moved 22 months ago, and the other two I packed 34 months ago. If I could unpack one box a week, I think that would be something of a great accomplishment, but life seems too busy and I think I've just not been demanding enough on myself about that. I vow to do better. I unpacked three tonight, and then re-filled one of them with stuff for Goodwill, so the net addition of crap to the household was just 2 boxes.

This has been a great weekend. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous. Yesterday and today I went with Himself to the gym, we took teh puppehs on lots of walkies and we're prepping to do the final wave of beadboard for the living room ceiling. I'm really excited because I've decided for a milk-wash kind of stain for the kitchen ceiling beadboard, which will be next, and I'll probably buy my first can of that stain this week. Feels like progress. Also, he's getting the living room ceiling fan together and the new shades he bought me for it are exquisite(photos to come). Coming up in the very near future, this old house is going to have a complete electrical re-wiring. Moving forward, in fits and starts.

Yes, a few lines ago I was feeling giddy and life is beautiful and Spring-like and fresh, and then, against the white backdrop of my Blogger compose page, the year's first mosquito wafted by.

Lest we get too happy with ourselves, eh?

Nonetheless, my boyfriend is in the kitchen making a chili that smells drool-worthy, the sweetest two puppies in the world are bounding excitedly**, I just drank a Nerdbeer, and life is beautiful.

*Within 6 months, hopefully
**Daddy's cooking! Daddy's cooking!

Fab new harnesses

These harnesses are from Simply Dog and are called body

harnesses. These are the best I've seen to discourage tugging and not impede movement. Teh puppehs love 'em.

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Sunday, Puppy Sunday: snortal combat over squeak toy

This squeak toy appeared out of nowhere in the backyard recently. One day, they were suddenly playing with this thing in the back yard, and it was looking raggedy and a bit on the muddy side. This video is from last night, and it's only the second time I've seen the red toy. They sure do love it. I sure hope this was not one of Heidi's babies.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

I've blogged on at least one previous occasion

...about the hazards of growing up in tobacco- and snuff-centric households. * also see tobacco freckles* Children in such households quickly learn to choose a flavor of soda can other than that of the dippers in the room, lest they suffer hideous mishaps. I come from a long line of dippers and chewers. Why, even some of the men in my family chewed the redman's revenge. As a wee sprog, I keenly observed that even a minute amount of snuff juice at the corner of the mouth accentuates a lady's wrinkles as the treacly liquid threads its way along via capillary action. Not. Pretty. Also was a lesson to keep the hide well-hydrated, non? But, then again, I wasn't kissing my great granny on the mouth or chin, so what did I care? I just vowed not to take it up me ownself. Then, too, the later generations of ladies in my family abstained from tobacco, including Mom, thankfully. On the flip side, kids who didn't grow up with the burdens of spittoons also did not reap the benefits of shooting jugs of fermented tobacco juice bloating in the Southern heat. *(see the above link for more on that one)

A post on Sabra's blog reminded me of the Robert Earl Keen song Copenhagen and I just have to post it here, because, for me, it never gets old.



Yes, I howled like a banshee when I saw these beauties from Fluevog. Note to self: must file taxes soon for refundies. Now which to buy-- nude or black? Love the embossing on the leather evocative of stingray hide. The versions in ostrich are fabulous too, but the sparkles on these make my heart sing. Truly, they do.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Anti-carry bull-crappery

I love the part where the the Stupid-arsed Anti-Carry organization* representative says that citizens who openly carry legally are just as likely to put a bullet in you as they are the bad guys. Whence came the data on which she bases that assertion? I'd say she's more likely of an accidental discharge than any of the pro-2A folks in the video. Okay, maybe another kind of discharge-- pants-crapping hysterics, more like.

The people I know who carry are among the most contemplative and least impulsive folks I know. There is early-and-often talk of gun safety and at my own home a couple weeks ago, to a man and to a woman**, everyone twice checked the chamber of every firearm as it was handed to them, even having seen the previous person check it before them. At that particular gathering, I knew I was in one of the safest places I could have been in all of Texas. Or the entire country, for that matter. And all those folks are not super-heroes, either. They are something much better: they are regular folks who are, in fact, heroic in all the best ways. There's no finer, more decent crowd of people. And none less likely to accidentally shoot someone.

An armed society is a polite society.

Robert A Heinlein

When I contrast the neurotic hand-wringing of these fear-motivated anti-gun people with the calm assurance of the Second Amendment crowd, well, I'll stay where I am, thank you very much.

I'm disappointed in Peet's, I'm not fond of pizza, anyway, and I defy Peet's by having a gun on my person half the time when I'm drinking their wonderful Winter Solstice or Masala Chai teas (will be 90% of the time when I have my shoulder holster from Michael) and I couldn't give a toss if Peet's approves or not. The way I see it, I'm doing my little part to help Peet's celebrate my own freedom-loving principles. Why, after all, should I hold anti-gun hysteria against a little tea-bag? ;P

*no, I'm not naming their sorry organization on my blog.
**see MattG's accounting here, paragraph 5

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Tainted grub! oh oh oh oh oh! Tainted grub!*

Just when I'd forgotten the original meaning of "taint"... a lady in New Mexico got a little extra product in her yogurt sample at a grocery store. The yogurt sample tested positive for the DNA of a pushy store clerk who goaded the lady into trying the special sauce he'd apparently whipped up.

There's a lot I could say here, but I'm going to stop at wow. Just wow.

*sung to the tune of Tainted Love

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

School is going well


Have made 100s on all quizzes except one with a 97, and homework has all been 100s. Will prolly have a 90 on my last quiz, though, because after the fact I realized I mis-read my protractor on an obtuse angle. Now I know the measure twice/cut once rule applies in other things than cutting. Lesson learned.

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Fox hunt

H/t to BlowFuzzy Von Sassy
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You don't have to be cuckoo to work here...

I think my vealcube at work needs this little pink plastic cuckoo clock from the charming folks at Plasticland.

Monday, February 07, 2011

what I'd like to do with a week off work... somewhat at odds with the reality of what I'd actually did with a week off work. I would have thought I'd get SO much accomplished. I suppose I did, though, because I got a lot of rest-- a commodity which has been in short supply of late.

I took Thursday, Friday and Monday off the previous week, and then the whole of the region was encrusted in ice on Tuesday morning, so I didn't return to work as planned. Then the air proceeded to not get above freezing for the next 4 days and my street remained glazed in ice until Friday night. As I've posted here, I've done a lot of cooking. My stove's grode factor was getting past the oogy mark, so I de-groded it and it's nice to look at again-- at least on the outside. Most of the dishes are done.

I did a little laundry, and a teeny little bit of cleaning. Mostly I made plans for what's to be done to the house. There was generally a cool breeze about the ankles throughout the house throughout the week, nothing insulating below. Brrr. Wednesday morning I noticed a little puff of a snow drift on the floor. Nice. I laid towels along the edge of the baseboards and vowed to do the expanding foam treatment there that's been so effective in the bedroom. That, and the siding needs to be addressed. There's SO much to do, and it's impossible to work on these things when it's cold, isn't it? So you just stay inside, bundled up with the pups and plan for a fit of industry when the mercury will allow it.

Much repair remains to be done, but much to be thankful for. This is a cute, if flawed, house, and I'm thankful to have it. I'm thankful the pipes didn't burst despite the kitchen sink line freezing the first morning (to be quickly thawed later in the day, thanks to good advice from friends). Repairs and renovation will move apace, however slow that pace may be, but I'll move forward and things will get done, by and by.

For today, it's back to work, and then on to school this evening.

Sunday, February 06, 2011

The twilight's last reaming.

Oh, if only.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating: just because you know five ways to Sunday to get between note A and note B does not mean you are a good singer. The Star Spangled Banner is a technically very challenging song to sing, with its sustained notes and wide range. Just because you can sing a million notes in 3 seconds doesn't mean you technically have the chops to sing the National Anthem, so please, pretty please-- with melon-farming sugar on top-- please stop. Now.

As I predicted...

The yeller pants won the superbowl.

That is all.

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Sunday, Puppy Sunday: pegs o' my heart

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Saturday, February 05, 2011

...and so the drumbeat continues to sound for nationalised healthcare.

A (some say THE) pioneer hip-hop artist is ill and thinks all the rest of us should tote the note.

During the intervening years between his initial success with hiphop music and now when brought low by kidney stones, what has this artist done with himself or his energy and resources? The little cricket played in the sun whilst the rest of we schmucks worked and saved and paid for our own health insurance (or not) so that we'd not come up short in the case of dire illness. Now that he's in a health crisis, all the rest of us need to dig a little deeper and see that he is seen to.

Call me obtuse, but I don't think America is all about the free ride. I think it's about being able to make one's own choices. I find this indictment of the American welfare system lobbed by an American via a foreign publication to be profoundly offensive.

Friday, February 04, 2011

Mmm mm Moussaka!

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Blueberry/blackberry clafoutis

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By popular demand...

Here's a guy showing how to make a clafoutis. In my opinion, if you want something a little baked for dessert but not too wickedly decadent, this simple little cake is great. In fact, I still have some blackberries in the fridge, so I'm about to make one now. Also, this is fantastic with plain yogurt, as shown in the video. I've tried other recipes for clafoutis online which called for more sugar and for vanilla or other ingredients, but the one in this video is the best one I've tried so far. Oh, and my first clafoutis was with fresh figs, and it was marvelous. Bon appetit!

Thursday, February 03, 2011

Rabbit recipe

Rabbit Stewed in Roman Style

Next to my Larousse Gastronomique, this is the most oft-used volume in my kitchen library. Published in 1979, in the UK, The Mediterranean Cookbook [Anna Macmiadhachain (Author), Mary Reynolds (Author), Claudia Roden (Author), Helge Rubinstein (Author)
]is a great resource for recipes for all manner of fresh fruit and veg dishes, as well as standard meats and fish and a bit of game. I'll cut to the chase and own that I am a bit of a snob in that I believe the folks along the Mediterranean evolved some of the most elegant regional cooking, and so when I was preparing to cook rabbit for the first time (last night), I changed my mind last minute to go from the twice-fried standard version to the Rabbit Stewed in Roman Style, according to this cookbook.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough. If you like Greek and Spanish cooking, as well as some more rustic French and Italian, this is a must-have, imho. Mmmm, mousaka! Mmm, spanikopita!

Anyway, the post just after this one will have the rabbit recipe on an image. If that doesn't work for you and and you need me to print it out here, then just let me know. Oh and click on the link above to buy this cookbook used. I think you'll be glad you did.

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Wednesday, February 02, 2011

He said "don't ever lose this recipe, baby. I'll get you a rabbit anytime you want to cook it.

Between bites, he said "I now understand why Elmer Fudd wouldn't give up."

I concur. Was delicious. Recipe for Roman Style stewed rabbit soon to follow.

Btw - what becomes a stewed rabbit most? Nerd beer, of course.

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I feel less sorry for the bunny by the minute

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Work in progress: what became of teh bunneh.

Full report later.

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Something good is gonna happen...

The saints among lawmakers in Utah propose to honour the memory of one John Browning by making the M1911 an official emblem of the state.

A fitting tribute, indeed. I'll never forget the abject joy of the moment I first fired a 1911. Holly and JPG said my face lit up. My face hurt the next day from grinning. What a fitting tribute to a brilliant gunmaker, bless 'im.

h/t to Thud

star struck.

Celebrity journalist Anderson Cooper was attacked by a mob in Egypt and hit on the head about 10 times, according to news reports. Don't they know who he is? He's apparently not getting the reverence and propers the Katrina folks knew to give him.

No word on whether he cacked his Kiton denim breeks.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

A world in white

See the neighbor shoveling snow? I wouldve bet no one in town owned a snow shovel!

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Why I probably won't be going to work today.

Uh, after several cases of the weather services crying "wolf" we finally got some crap precipitation. Brrr. Fortunately, there's ample supply of citrus fruit here to stave off scurvy. And ive got my doggies to keep me warm.

Oh, and lightning and thunder during a snowstorm??? Kind of eerie, actually.

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