Happiness?

Yesterday I saw a bluebird on the porch. It was perched on a flower pot. I had to look again as I didn't think that bluebirds wintered over. When the bird flew away, I put some sunflower kernels on the snow in the flower pot. The kernels were still there this morning, so the bird must not have returned. Evidently the squirrel hasn't either.
Today an armful of seed catalogues arrived. So the day will be spent perusing the seed catalogues while visions of heirloom tomatoes dance in my head. I don't really need more seeds as I have plenty of them left over from the past Spring and tomato seeds last forever. I think that I will concentrate on herbs and spices. I still have basil and sage and a dwarf lemon tree growing in the bedroom window. Still, some cucumbers and maybe some peas and maybe some...... Once again this Spring I will need a weed whacker to pass through the porch. Seed catalogues the first sign of Spring, or maybe the first Bluebird is.

I hope

The New Year approaches. 2011 will be a time of renewal and growth. I will weed out the bad things in my character and nurture the good. The curmudgeon will fade and the bon vivant will emerge from his long, long sleep. The icy fingers of Winter and cynicism had delved too deep this time. I feel the need to rejoin the dance of humanity and the festival of life. For too long I have been walking in a wiener wonderland and I feel the urge to dance around a Maypole.
I have dreams and they will probably remain dreams but I will continue to dream. I dream of Tuscany and Provence and Akrotiri. I dream of Arlington and Nashville and Saint Leo's. I dream of watching my genes laugh and giggle and smile and quietly watch the world in their unique pensive way. I dream of finally achieving gravitas instead of flitting through life as a boy does on a Summer day.
These are dreams, what I will achieve I don't know. I might settle for a beat up old hat and a bed among the leaves of grass. I think of a quote from that wordsmith of the plains "There once was a man that lived alone, with his wife.". Still there is another dream, that I might meet up with some gap-toothed old harridan that smokes unfiltered Camels and drinks straight bourbon from the bottle and bounce our way through life. There is not much gravitas to that dream but it is a lot more possible than the other dreams. The soup kitchen dream depends too much on the pipe dream and will probably never happen. So 2011 will be a time of renewal and resolutions but there are always the words of the poet. "Life is what happens while we are making other plans.". 2011 will be a time of dancing and laughing. It will have to be. The prediction of the Mayas waits in the wings.

Ask

There is an old saying "Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it". I have been asking for Winter. Boy, did I get it. The streets are not plowed, the driveway is as slick as a lawyer's conscience, and I am housebound. I like being housebound as I was able to make another attempt at onion soup. The soup turned out not bad. Not bad but not great, I am still soup challenged. I roasted a pork blade roast. I used maple syrup and Dijon mustard and port as a glaze. It came out pretty good. Today I think that I may try some cookies or bread. I will wait for the inevitable melting to venture out.
Asking will, from now on, be confined to the only prayer I have ever endorsed. "Please God, don't let me outlive any of my children.".
My children, the pride of my life and the loves of my life. Each of them has turned out to be a wonderful, caring, intelligent, and compassionate human being. I take no credit for those things. There is so much of their Mother in them. Maternal DNA is a powerful and awesome force.

Duh!

The contents of the previous post have been bothering me. I was tempted to erase it but I think that I will leave it as a monument to my incredible ability to misunderstand things.
Once more I attempted to understand the term Logos. I still don't understand that term but it helped to invalidate all that I had written before. Ratzinger's explanation helped quite a bit. Creative Spirit, I seem to be able to deal with but all of the rest remains hidden from me. The Breath of God is going to require a lot more delving.
Can any human being ever understand any of the convoluted reasoning of another human being? Certainly not me, a person who cannot discover why dropped toast always lands butter side down. This leads to the concept that reason did not come first.
I will never understand these things, as if it makes any difference to the Universe that a weak minded human being can't understand things. Things just are and I'm going to have to learn to live with them. The Universe may go on forever and a human being just ends up as toast.

Happy Birthday Little One

On this day of joy, so many conflicting thoughts ramble through my mind. On this day of joy, so many questions once again peek out from behind my little grey cells.
As a Catholic, the life and fate of Mary is more on my mind than it might seem to be for other denominations. This time of year has always been a time for a little blasphemy for me.
" God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son". Did God let the Boy's Mother know about the plans that He had?
Mary gave the strength of her body to form the Boy. Joseph worked to provide sustenance for the two of them. Joseph left his home and his trade to protect them from a wrathful king. By today's definition, whose child was the boy?
Thirty some odd years later the boy would make the journey to Jerusalem and on to Calvary.
The agony of that fate is often on my mind. I don't just think of the reward that the world received from it, I think of the incredible agony that it finally entailed. Did God keep that always hidden from Joseph and Mary? They raised up a child, comforted Him and nursed Him, did they know that the Cross was coming?
"God so loved the world that". Was all of that torture necessary? God the all-powerful need only have thought of eternal life and it would have been. Was that pain on the Cross and the pain at the base of it the only way to reward the human race?
What do we know of what happened afterwards? We know things because of a group of self-promoting lackeys that wrote extensively about the miracles they witnessed and miracles they were part of.
What happened to Mary? What happened to Joseph? The Man that was the Boy, entrusted the care of his Mother to one of those underlings. Was that trust kept? Shoudn't there be some mention of the fate of the Mother of God somewhere in the endless prattling about rules and procedures? Did she end up in Ephesus?
These thoughts were originally brought on by a song by The Boney M. "Mary's boy-child Jesus Christ , was born on Christmas Day" were the lyrics that predicated these thoughts. "Mary's boy-child". She was destined to stand at the foot of that Cross and writhe in the pain of seeing those things happen to her Son.
I could not have endured the pain that He did. I could not have faced the fate that He faced. I could not have kept faith with a God that decreed such a fate to my son. How did she go on? She brought Him into the world with pain. She watched Him go out with pain. She was not at the committee meeting when His return was announced. Afterall, who would invite a mere woman to an important meeting of the Men? You mindless dolts, She was the Mother of God! Did they send her a memo when they found out?
So when the joy of Christmas is upon me I often think of that poor woman, destined to stand on that terrible hill. What was her fate? The committee might have at least included a small footnote in their extensive elaborations.
When the joy of Christmas is upon me, my mind always turns to that terrible Friday. I will wait for the following Sunday to express my joy.

A Day of Firsts

Today is the first day of Winter. The first snow fall is gently dusting the trees and lawns. It seems appropriate for New England that our most noteworthy form of weather is gentle and beautiful. For that is what New England is, gentle, slow, and beautiful. We have very few catastrophies of weather. We have no tornadoes or hurricanes or droughts or floods or firestorms.
Occasionally we have a blizzard. The power goes out. The television, the radio, the computer, the lights, and the heat are disabled. It is a time of peace and relaxing. Watching the snow pummel the landscape and watching it slide sideways across the air calls for reading and napping and pondering what is really important in life. Heating water for cocoa over a candle is a simple basic pleasure and leads to appreciation of the times when there is power. It always makes me think of how I should get a gas stove. Then the old adage of "Go Modern, Go Gas, Go Boom!" banishes that thought. When the daylight fades, it is time to hunker down under several blankets and listen to the snow tinkles on the window.
Each of our seasons has its own identity. Spring is the time of planning and seed catalogues and visions of tomatoes and squash and fresh peas dance through our heads. Summer is the time of nurturing and hunting for the dreaded denizen of New England, the tomato horn worm. It is a time of fried clams and hot dogs and chowders. It is the time of fresh corn and lobster and steaks on the grill and ice cold beer and not so icy white wine. The crispness of Fall is a welcome harbinger of what is to come. It is the time of crisp newly picked apples and hot spiced apple cider and cinnamon doughnuts and the New England uniform of wool sweaters and hats. Then comes the blessed relief of Winter. The time of cocoa and roasts and naps and watching the birds at the feeder is upon us. It is the time of ease and reflection upon the blessings of living here in this place where so little happens.
New England is rarely exciting but always enticing. It is kind of like a good bread pudding

Chili Disaster

Once again, chili that tastes like crap. I like to tell myself that I am a decent cook. I can make tomatoes over elbow macaroni (probably my very favorite dish) or tiramisu or Sachertorte. I can make Sunday Sauce or lasagna or cannolini.
As simple as chili or pot roast are, I can't seem to make either. I can't make a decent soup. I can make Yankee Chili.
Yankee Chili consists of tomatoes and onion and garlic and sauted beef and green peppers and lots of B+M baked beans. They are my last resort from now on. I refuse to fall back on Hormel, although I have fond memories of it when I was younger and living on my own. I bet that Joey and Chandler would understand.
Chicken, Rice, and Mushroom gravy will always be on the menu. Cream of mushroom soup is a staple of almost every American. The price of Cream of Mushroom soup never varies. It never goes up and it never goes down. Long ago America abandoned the gold standard. Now the dollar fluctuates all over the charts. Perhaps it is time to go on a new standard, the Cream of Mushroom soup standard. You can't eat gold and you can't eat silver or copper. Wouldn't it be nice to have a nest egg that you could eat when times get hard?

Chili Day

Yesterday was a chili day. My Brother took me to the grocery store and I got some blade steak to make chili. While I was there I noticed that the store now carries ox tail. Visions of ox tail soup burst ino my mind but I passed on it. Ox tail is full of gristle and fat and bone. The store wants over four dollars a pound for it. The intensity of the flavor of the meat is astounding but four dollars a pound for something that requires so much work is a bit of a stretch for me.
So upon returning home, with a stop at the local comestible store, I started making the chili. The new recipe requires one bottle of lager beer. Unfortunately for the recipe, they don't make one packs. I didn't use store chili powder for the recipe. I got four kinds of chili peppers and whirred them up with some oregano and salt and pepper and cumin and chicken broth and a little flour, and a lot of onions and garlic. The flavor is so much different from store chili powder. There is heat but there is also a barely perceptible piquancy also. Three hours in the oven and the chili is now developing in the refrigerator. I brined the beans and they finally came out soft. I have long produced chili with rock hard beans so it appears that brining is the answer.
I will test the chili later today and probably add more cumin. To me, cumin is the flavor of chili. I always end up adding more. I will bake some corn bread and spend a chilly day having a chili day.

My Friend

Yesterday was pretty uneventful. I went for a short walk. It was short because it is getting cold around here. The cold is no bother but the wind can make a difference.
So I tucked in and roasted a chicken. Is there anything easier than roasting a chicken? Clean it up, stuff it into the oven, and two hours later it is done. The gravy was good even though I did not have any white wine to add to it. I am growing sage and thyme and basil in the bedroom window, along with the lemon tree (which has dozens of tiny lemons on it) so I stuffed the chicken with fresh herbs and an onion and a cut up orange. Chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans made a wonderful dinner. By the way, Wondra makes making gravy much easier.
I decided to share my bounty with my friend the squirrel. I put a dish of grains and nuts and fruit on the deck, under the overhang so that he doesn't have to worry about the hawk that frequently circles overhead.
For years I fought the battle against squirrels and the bird feeder. Then I began to appreciate the ingenuity of the little rascals. No matter what I did to keep them out of the bird feeder, within a day they found a new way to get into it. My little friend will come to the deck for scraps and water, sit in the railing, and stare into the window at me. The birds simply flit in and out without so much as a "Thank You very much". The squirrel sits on the deck as still as a stone if the hawk is overhead. The deck is grey, the squirrel is grey, so as long as it doesn't move I think that it is invisible to the hawk. The squirrel lives in the attic of the house next door. I often see it scampering across their roof, their grey roof. I don't know if squirrels hibernate but I will continue with the food and water as long as it keeps disappearing. It seems better to feed the squirrel than to put food in the bird feeder to feed the cat.
The squirrel seems to have better control of its bowels than the birds do. It has yet to leave me a little calling card on the porch.
Feeding the squirrel is a small gesture but it feels so good to do it. I wish that I had the resources to feed my fellow human beings. The small contributions that I make to the local food bank and the Salvation Army somehow don't seem to be enough to me. I wish that I could invite the whole human race over for dinner. I would hope that they like little fishy things.

Thinking

Winter is finally here. There are small snowflakes falling outside and there is ice on the deck. Christmas is approaching. Once more my thoughts turn to an isolated incident of World War One.
On Christmas day, both the British and Germans in one isolated section of the trenches, stopped firing at each other. They got out of the trenches and had a football game in No Man's Land. They exchanged chocolate and tea and displayed pictures of their families. At the end of the day, the horrible carnage resumed.
The next year, the British generals were so afraid that the incident would repeat itself, regulations were put into effect that would insure that the incident would not recur.
That horrible war was brought on by the death of a prince. It was the result of a myriad of secret diplomatic treaties. It was stopped for one day, to celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if all the war we are involved in at the present could be stopped on the birthday of the Prince. He did later reference the fate of the Peacemakers. He met his fate at the hands of secular and religious leaders. They were afraid that He would give voice to the people and give them peace.
The leaders of his country were unable to deal with Him, so they made a deal with leaders from another country to prosecute Him. (How do you spell Wikileaks?).
The people of the world want peace. Someday their leaders are going to have to step aside and let them have it. Wouldn't it be a wonderful gift to the American people to receive for Christmas, the return of their sons and daughters from violent places of the world in which we have no damned business being in the first place.
Bad things have happened. Do we need to be enslaved by the policies of the past, or might we turn the other cheek and look forward to a future of Peace on Earth? It would certainly be a better birthday present than frankincense or myrrh.

A Loss for Words.

Yesterday was a dismal failure for me. My daughter from Florida called. I had not heard from her in quite some time. I was napping on the couch when she called. I was thrilled to hear her voice but I was a little buzzy from the nap and couldn't think of anything relevant to say. I am not usually at a loss for words.
Her voice was full of its usual vibrancy and joy. The conversation soon degraded into "The weather here is cool.", "The weather here is also.".
How my life has fallen into a state of routine, dull, repetition. How could I not think of things to say to this child who has always fascinated me with her incise comments and joy of living? Lives are not just separated by distance. They are separated by age and circumstance and attitude. I miss the sparkling repetoire we used to share. It is a loss of more than words. Care for her and love for her and respect for her will always be in my heart but they seem to have withered on my tongue. Dear Sweet Hanna-Boo, you are always on my mind, what is left of it.

Just a few things

Yesterday my Brother and my Sister-In-Law took me to the grocery store. I wasn't feeling very well but I thought that I might pick up a few things and the trip might cheer me up. Well, the few things turned into a bulging cart full. I have enough food to last the year out. It is so comforting to know that you have enough food to last out a storm. I have a side by side refrigerator and both sides are packed so full that it would be hard to slide a toothpick into them. The cabinets are overflowing.
Cold meatballs and beets sound tasty but the meatballs that I have are Italian and combining them with beets might be a little iffy. I have not made Swedish meatballs in quite a while so thank you for the suggestion and I look forward to doing so.
How do you know if a meatball is Swedish? Drop it on the floor and if it bounces and goes "Dinka, Donka, Dinka, Donka" it is Swedish. If it floats to the floor like Forest Gump's feather, it is a well made Italian meatball.
I purchased a Shank end ham and am looking forward to cooking it. I have done this before and a ham glazed with maple syrup and mustard and pineapple is stupendous. Of course, the problem will be the sheer size of the ham. There will be ham on the menu for many days. All this just to get the ham bone so I can make Swedish Yellow Pea Soup. Yellow Pea Soup with corn bread MMMMMMMMMMM!

The Weather Outside Is _ _ _

It is December and the weather is still bright, sunny, and way way above freezing. It is disconcerting. By now the ground should be rock hard and we should have had at least one snow storm. It is a situation that lies uneasy on the mind.
The other uneasiness I am experiencing is a plethora of meatballs. For three days I have been dining on meat and sauce and pasta. My stomach is uneasy and communicating this fact with gurgles and rumblings. I am even considering eating a vegetable or some fruit. Maybe a vegetable and fruit casserole with some nicely browned cheese and bread crumbs on the top is in the future. There is a term for that, French I am sure, but I cannot remember it right now.
Wait a minute, it just came to me. Gratinee.

Meatain

There is now a mountain of meatballs in the sauce. There is enough sauce and sausages and braciole and pork tenderloin and meatballs and mushrooms and pepperoncini to feed the Third Marine Division or one hungry Italian family. It all amounts to about eight quarts and is reposing in the refrigerator. Luckily I have more pasta than the Ronzoni family does. It is not hard to predict what the menu is going to be for a long, long time. Someday I am going to learn to cook for just one, (sure I am). I will freeze some but I don't know how all of those meats will react to freezing.
The Illiad has a most interesting concept. The concept that prayer follows sin and avarice and pride around the world, a grey, sad lackey to misdeeds. It reminds me of the Flip Wilson routine wherein the Devil tells the minister "Without me, you wouldn't have a job.". People pray for forgiveness. "I am sorry, I didn't know, please forgive me.". What they are really after is mercy. "I knew it was wrong, I deserve to be punished but please have mercy.". Prayer for the wellbeing of others may be the only valid prayer. There is an obverse to almost every situation.
Christmas comes to mind. It is Jesus' birthday, so we all get presents. How would we feel if, on our birthday, all of our friends and relatives gave presents to Jesus instead of us? Dickens comes to mind and the child nestled in the robes of the future.
That a child anywhere in the world should be hungry while I enjoy the cornucopia of America, makes me think that I need mercy more than forgiveness. That a child in America should be hungry is a sin that, someday, someone will have to answer for. Wall Street got mercy, Main Street needs some compassion.

When in Doubt

Yesterday was another day of tissues and hot tea and an ennui that just won't let go. I spent a significant amount of time on my porcelin throne. I am the king of that small room.
Ambling around, mumbling to myself, I resorted to my time honored solution. "When in doubt, Cook!". I made another attempt at Lidia's Sunday sauce. It may have been successful. The sauce is fine and the sausages are fine (as always) but I haven't tried the braciole yet. The braciole needs a few more hours simmering in the sauce. I haven't made the meatballs yet but I will attempt that today. They only require an hour in the sauce and I just ran out of energy and wasn't looking forward to grinding the beef and pork. So I hope that by the end of the day that the meats will have all melded together and the braciole will be acceptable. The last time that I made it, the beef slices were too thick but this time I sliced them very thin so I could forego the pounding. The only thing that I left out was the prosciutto as that would require a trip to the grocery store and, Lo and Behold, I just wasn't up to such a trip.
Kristen, I was so touched by your description of that boy's birthday purchases. Please let me know how I can join your compassionate endeavor. If the rest of the world were more like you, I would have to begin an intensive search for something else to be morose about.

Scores

Illiad 1. Soup 0.
Pot Roast, mashed potatoes, and green beans 10.
Port 5.

Times

There are times that are sad, there are times that are glad. Then there are the times that are just in between both. The word ennui comes to mind but I don't really remember what it means. That is a big disappointment because more and more I cannot remember what a word means. I used to know the meanings of a lot of words but now they are just dusty shadows lurking in the depths of my memory. As a test, I just tried to remember the name of the monster in Beowulf. After several minutes, Grendal came roaring back. That exemplifies the memory troubles that I have. I can remember most things but it takes minutes or seconds or hours or days to access the memory.
Yesterday was a typical no 1's or 10's day. I had big plans for things that I have to do but I am re-reading the Illiad. This time I vow that I will finally finish it. I have started reading it so many times over my lifetime but I don't recall ever finishing it. So the day progressed with the Illiad, a nice pasta and sauce and sausage meal, a nice glass of port, and a nice nap that lasted way too long. When I awakened, I watched the Moon progress along the window pane for quite some time.
The day had no 1's (depression) or 10's ( the exhilaration of watching my children grow) but was a nice even 5. A long time ago I was diagnosed with depression. The Doctor said it was Typical Scandanavian Depression. He got me some pills, one of which I called the Pajama Pill. I had to already have my pajamas on when I took the pill. I stopped taking it because I was afraid that if the smoke alarm went off, I would not hear it and I had children living with me at the time. That was a typical time of 1's and 10's.
I went for a longer walk yesterday. The air was slightly crisp, the leaves were crunchy, and Nature's palette was spread over the ground. I watched the waterfall and listened to its gentle roar. I breathed in its musky, moist air. It was a good day for walking.
Today will be another try at making a decent soup. I have all of the ingredients that I will need and still have some port. Still, I can hear the sirene sound of the Illiad in the background. Life is 5 and 5 is good.

Pot Roast.3

I tried pot roast again. This time I used a rump roast. I left the meat in the oven too long and produced a nice large beef chip. The gravy was another story. It is fantastic. Red wine, beef stock, herbs, celery, carrots, onions, garlic, and a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar produced a slurry of ambrosia.
I have a new treat. Instant mashed potatoes with garlic are wonderful and don't require hours of clean up, just one pot to clean.
Today will be a day of experimenting. When I was at the grocery store (I genuflect before entering) I got some leeks and a fennel bulb. I will see what tasty treats lurk in those green wonders.

Thank You

One of my daughters, the Angel of Arlington, is keeping a log of all of the things that she is thankful for. I have a small list also and she is at the top of the list, along with her siblings. Each morning, when I wake up, I am thankful that I see the ceiling and not grass roots. I am thankful that most of my parts still work.

Yum

The chicken mozzarella has become a problem. It has morphed from a tasty treat to an obsession. Each day I can't wait to sink my teeth into the crunchy brown and black cheese. Olives, pepperoncini, peppers (some green, some spicy),mushrooms, artichoke hearts, onions, garlic, tomatoes, and olive oil bathe the chicken bottoms as the tops crisp up under the broiler. The whole conglomeration goes over linguini and is topped with roasted red peppers.
With belly bulging, I have a new treat. There is a new program on PBS. It is called "Sherlock Holmes in the 21st Century". It is surprisingly entertaining. The plots are a little strained but the lead actor brings a whole new dimension to the character of Holmes. Holmes with a sense of humor is an entirely new concept. Mycroft is slim and sinister, Watson has abandoned his supplicating adoration, Scotland yard recognizes Holmes's talents, and Watson's new paramour seems destined to replace Irene Adler.
Moriarity still lurks in the backgound and Holmes has mastered computers (who but a computer himself could obtain such dexterity?). One of the touches for updating the stories is that Holmes no longer smokes. He wears a nicotine patch. While pondering one especially tangled question, he remarks "Hmm, this is a three patch problem.". The clues and explanations come fast and furious and the show is amusing and exciting all at once. So, each Sunday at 9:00 P.M. I have a new appointment to go along with Thursday's Big Bang Theory. Humor and thought combined, it is about time that I got to enjoy the frosting on the cake of life.

Onward and Downward

I am not sure about the dandelion greens. I will look them up and post the results. I am pretty sure that they are a Springtime treat only, as ramps are. This time of year they are a bit long in the tooth
You may be on to something regarding the pot roast. I have been using white wine and a mixture of beef broth and chicken broth. I may be browning the meat too much. The beef I have been using is probably too lean. With the new eating habits people are developing, it is harder and harder to find chuck in the market. I have a nice rump roast in the freezer which has a fine lot of marbling in it and is in the on-deck circle for pot roast. I may also use too many different vegetables and herbs. This problem might have much to do with the fact that the pot roast takes so long to cook and there is a rather large bottle of opened wine on the table. I have forgotten about K.I.S.S. when I cook.
Yesterday was a glorious day. I went for a walk. I made chicken parmesan, well not really parmesan more like chicken mozzarella with asiago cheese. I fry the chicken thighs in the big cast iron pan, dusting each side with garlic powder and chili powder and then putting on the cheese and blackening it under the broiler.

Dandelion Greens

Wilted Serves Four
Saute five slices of bacon. Remove bacon from pan. Drain on paper towels and crumble.
Heat two tablespoons of melted butter or bacon drippings or oil.
Add 1/4 cup of mild vinegar and 1 teaspoon of chopped herbs.
Add then bacon and 1 teaspoon of grated onion and 1 teaspoon of sugar.
Pour the dressing over:
1 head of lettuce separated; shredded cabbage;dandelion, young spinach,or other greens.

Serve at once in a warm bowl onto warm plates, garnish with sliced hard cooked eggs.

You can also serve dandelion greens mixed with other greens in a fresh salad. There is a caution about wild greens. Do not let them represent to great a proportion of the other greens as many of them contain oxylates and other substances that may be harmful if consumed in quantity. Do not use dandelion greens from the neighbor's lawn unless you have developed a taste for Scott's Weed Killer.
Speaking of oxylates, I know that spinach is very high in oxylates and that Popeye must have set the Guiness World Record for kidney stones.

Once the flowers have bloomed, dandelion greens become very bitter. That probably makes them very eligible for my pot roast.

Pot Roast.2

I am trying pot roast again. I started it yesterday and will finish it today. I would have finished yesterday but the cooking time is very lengthy and I was tired so I put it in the refrigerator and will finish the cooking today. I am not using the super duper recipe from Cook's Illustrated. I have reverted to The Joy of Cooking. The Joy of Cooking is probably the most extensive cookbook ever written. The Ladie's recipes run from dandelion greens to roasting a whole moose. She also gives the warning about making garlic oil. Garlic plus olive oil plus too many hours equals botulism! Lidia gives the same warning.
The weather here has been incredible. It is as if Spring has returned. I am looking forward to cooler temperatures.

Uneasy Rests the Crown

It's not easy being King of the Heat. The tribulations of frost on the inside of the windows and sleeping with a ski hat on are never fully recognized. As an old Swamp Yankee, I am used to the onslaught of Winter. I revel in its purity and severity. The days of soups and stews and pies are upon us and have been much awaited.
As November first approached, I was concerned about being labeled a sissy for turning the heat on. Then redemption arrived. I beat out the Angel of Arlington by several hours. So I am King for one more year.
The place where I live is now nice and toasty. The fruit flies in the kitchen are flitting about, while visions of squishy plums dance in their heads.
It is finally here. The season of rest and contemplation and reading and hot chocolate and warm fuzzy slippers. To sit inside with a hot cup of coffee and watch a blizzard pile up its soft fluffy gift outside, has long been awaited. Apple pie and roasted, stuffed, poultry and sitting in the kitchen while the gentle heat from the stove and the fragrances of the roasting fill the room is a pleasure that people of the tropics cannot share.
The time of simplicity is upon me. No daily checking to make sure that the plants outside have enough water and picking caterpillars off them. No worrying about melanoma of the pate. Out comes the goose down and the gloves and off I trudge through the squeaky soft snow. I must find a hat that will accomodate my King of the Heat crown. Maybe the Angel of Arlington has one that I can use. She definitely won't be using it this year.

The Heat is On

I didn't make it to November first. When I got up this morning the temperature inside here was more than cool, it was downright frosty. I turned on the heat and went out into the kitchen to make coffee. I also turned on the oven to warm up the kitchen while I was waiting for the heat to warm up this place. As I did that I had to surpress a chuckle.
Many years ago, when I lived with her, Lucy would have the heat at a very low level. We had a self-cleaning electric stove. Those stoves get up to six hundred degrees when they are cleaning themselves. To help with the daily chores, I would clean the stove regularly. Sometimes I would clean it more than once a day. I would sit in the kitchen and wait patiently for the stove to unlock itself. Sitting, sipping coffee, with the Sun streaming in through the patio door, those are pleasant memories. Time spent with the Madonna of Middletown, that is an even more pleasant memory.
It has warmed up now. It will be a pleasant day for baking. Corn bread would go well with the soup. I will walk first to put an edge on my appetite.

Soup is On

The soup that I made Wednesday came out pretty good. This is noteworthy because the soups that I make are usually a disaster. The soup is lentil, with a bunch of other things.
Lentils, carrots, onions, garlic, peppers, tomatoes, tomato paste, lima beans, peas, beef broth, a splash of white wine, and leftover pork chops with bones combined to make something that is nice with bread and shredded cheese. It is a good time for soup as the weather has turned just a little bit chilly. It reminds me of an old French saying, "Soup is enough if there is enough soup.".
Another French saying comes to mind. My dear, sweet, French friend used to say "Kissing a man without a moustache is like soup without salt.". Life without her is like soup without a spoon. I can remember what the flavor was but I cannot partake of it. Life goes on but the warmth is gone.

Roasted

Yesterday I finished making the pot roast. It is O.K. but not as luscious as I anticipated. The failing was probably because I was unable to get chuck eye of the round and used another cut of beef that was less marbled. The gravy was not as intense as I expected. I have a dismal history with pot roast. I have another piece of beef that I will try. It is a rump roast and very well marbled. I hate to waste such a nice piece of beef on pot roast. It would be tastier as a roast beef but it is too big for me to use it as a roast and pot roast will last a long time refrigerated.
The green tomatoes have all been picked and the peppers have all been picked. The herbs are inside in pots and the lemon tree is also. They are resting on the air conditioners which are now on the floor just below the sunniest window. The fragrance of the basil and thyme and sage are pleasing and if the lemon tree manages to blossom, its fragrance will be welcomed. The coriander never produced any seeds and I do not like the flavor of it as an herb. It is too soapy.
Today I will pick the other basil leaves and the flat parsley. They dry nicely, although their flavor never approaches that of fresh. E's cherry peppers came in nicely and I may try to stuff them. I anticipate having ripe tomatoes for Christmas. The beef stock was O.K. but nothing to rave about. I have a surfeit of apples and should make a pie today. I will make one more attempt at pie crust but I know that I can never reach the stage of perfection that my eldest daughter does.

Not Roast

I didn't make the pot roast yesterday. I headed out for the market to purchase the meat but the clouds looked so ominous that I returned to the place that I live. Instead I cooked up a small piece of beef with beef broth and Marsala and cream and onions and peppers and tomatoes. It was rather tasty eaten over rice.
Several days ago I watched an interview with the Dalai Lama. One thing that he said has been rattling through my mind like a marble in a boxcar. He said "The Buddha said "You are your own master."". Wow, if that doesn't make one feel like a complete failure in life. I will see if it can be effectively applied to the future. No more blaming cicumstances or other people for things that happen. If things go wrong, it is your own fault Boyo! Serendipity is not responsible for the good things, you can take some credit for them. The whole concept seems to negate the idea of Fate. The whole idea is somehow comforting.
It might be nice to have the Dalai Lama elected president of the whole world, with a collection of Buddhist monks as an administration. Of course, something would have to be done about the incessant giggling. Maybe not, giggling is preferable to sabre rattling.

Frosty

Yesterday morning I went out early because I had an errand to run. It was the first morning of the season that I could see my breath outside. The weather forecast for today includes a possible frost for this evening. It is time to pick all of the green tomatoes and bring in the herbs.
Yesterday was a day for comfort food. I made chili. This time I reduced the amount of spicy and hot things. I made the chili with kidney beans and a great deal of cumin and garlic and chopped fresh tomatoes. I have a plethora of fresh tomatoes and am using them in everything. I poured the chili over brown rice and topped it with chopped onion and shredded cheese. It came out very nice and I didn't have to deal with the fire down below.
I have come to enjoy brown rice. It takes twice as long to cook but has a chewiness and taste that I find pleasing. I started using brown rice as I have become concerned about the number of processed starches that I eat. Pasta and noodles and white bread and a large amount of white rice are the mainstays of my menu. I recently read that they are not good for me and I am trying to concentrate on whole grains.
If today holds true, I hope to try out the new recipe that I have for pot roast. I have never been able to achieve the state of pot roast that is so glorified by restaurant pot roast and I do love it so. Visions of tender slices of long cooked beef with oodles of thick delicious gravy and buttermilk biscuits and mashed potatoes have me drooling now.
It is cool where I live right now. I have on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and am sipping a nice hot coffee. It is the best of times and it is the wurst of times.

Falling

There has been a remarkable change in the weather. Fall is definitely here. The mornings are crisp, the days are warm, and the nights allow cuddling up under a soft warm blanket. There is condensation on the inside of the windows, there is glory in the profusion of colors of the maple trees, and it is a good time for walking.
I took the long walk yesterday. I am not sure how long it is but I think that it is several miles. The walk was not as easy as it used to be. I have been away from it too long. It was very pleasant though. The Sun warms the head and hands, the fallen leaves crunch beneath the feet, and the sky is an intense blue. It is the best season of the Northeast. Today may be the day to bake an apple pie.
Yesterday was pork chops Marsala. The dish was not very good as I added too many other ingredients. I forgot about KISS. The next time will be more Marsala and butter and less flour and broth.
I have closed up all of the storm windows and taken the air conditioner out of the window. I must have left at least two fruit flies in the kitchen as I now have quite a few flitting about in the kitchen. They will have to be shooed outside today.
Yesterday's walk included, of course, a stop at the market. I didn't need anything but I got a few things anyway so yesterday's meal included mashed potatoes.
I am beginning to wonder if eating only one meal a day is wrong. I only get hungry once a day and it seems a waste to eat when I am not hungry. I do not enjoy eating as much as I used to but I enjoy cooking even more than I used to. Perhaps I need to walk more and work up an appetite. I will try to do this as this weather is too good to be ignored. I will stumble along and watch the sky and the trees and the flyers from the market. It is a time for soups and stews and corn bread and good cheese. The clams that the market now has are surprisingly good. They are farm raised and have almost no sediment in them. It is titilating to think of a sea-clamboy, riding a sea horse, rounding up a herd of clams. "Get along little molluscs, we're bound for Wyoming.".

Paternity

Saturday I watched an amazing Dad and his amazing son tackle fishing. The Dad, in his quiet gentle way, slowly taught his son about casting. The boy dove right in to casting, glorying in learning how to teach the bait about waterskiing. The Dad, time and time again, showed the son about being quiet and letting the bait sit and letting the fish have a nibble before taking the bait. Each time the boy cast the bait, the cast went further out into the river. Soon he was almost reaching the far bank. Again and again the bait was in for its wild ride. Again and again the Dad explained about letting the bait rest. Eventually the message was absorbed and, lo and behold, a fish was pulled up out of the river. That was when I learned that the Father had introduced the son to barbless hooks. (Kudos Dad). Each time the fish was returned to the river. (Kudos again).
All the while the Angel of Arlington sat watching her boys. We would move only when the boy reared back to cast again. We would hide behind a tree as eyeballs don't make good bait.
I feel blessed to even know them. The come to my place, endure my never varying menu, and leave amid a profusion of hugs and handshakes. They are quiet, which suits my demeanor, gentle, and beautiful. There should someday be a plaque or statue dedicated to this wonderful family. No whining, no gossip, no strident complaining. Just two quiet, gentle, polite, intelligent people raising a quiet, gentle, polite, intelligent boy in their own admirable manner.
One suggestion loved ones, get another fishing rod. There was just a hint of yearning in Dad's eyes each time his son cast out into the river. Also get some latex gloves. They are necessary when taking the fish off of the hook so as to not remove the mucas on the fish's skin.

Affinity for certain animals

There is a crisis of flies in the kitchen. Several days ago I noticed that there were many fruit flies on two overipe pears. Out went the pears and out went the fruit flies. I managed to shoo most of them out the door where they can gorge on the tomatoes.
I didn't suck them in to the vacuum as I have devloped a reverence for almost all living things. Life itself is such a miraculous thing that I have almost become a Jain. I watch for ants and beetles as I walk and I shoo bees out of the house with the broom. I sometimes feel guilty about picking things from the garden as they are also living things but that would lead to a rather strict weight loss.
I do eat the meat that I buy in the grocery store. It is already dead and I didn't kill it. So I realize that I have an affinity with certain animals. My brothers are the vulture and the hyena and the jackal. We are all scavengers, dining on dead things and offal. It is nice to know that I have companions.
As to the flies. I wasn't able to scoot them all out of the door so I decided to leave the remaining two or three alone. Live and let live. That all came to a roaring halt this morning. Fruit flies must have a gestation period of about fifteen minutes. There were tons of them on the Kitchen-Aid mixer. There are many things that I can tolerate but messing with the sacred mixer is not one of them. Out came the broom, open went the door, and the shooing began. The remainders were subjected to the vacuum. The spider that lives in the corner is going to have to live on the occasional house-fly that sneaks in the door. There are a few fruit flies still left in the kitchen and I am sure that they will be providing the spider with a smorgasbord soon. He just better stay away from the mixer or he too will join the fruit flies in the vacuum.
Does the respect for living things intensify as we approach the end of our turn? I think that I will mull that over for a while. I don't have much respect for my fellow human beings but I revel in the glory of the maple tree as it is donning its fall oufit. I think that I will go out on the porch and have a conversation with my friend basil. (That's baysil, not Baasil.).

Milestone

Yesterday I received word that there is a new Doctor in the house. It is a milestone for this family. Someone has finally risen above the primordial soup that this family has wallowed in for generations. She accomplished this all on her own with no help from anyone. She persevered through trials and betrayals and slowly worked her way to her goal. She is a marvel of intelligence and common sense and tenderness and thought.
I wish you all the best sweetheart. That wish may be superfluous as you have already become the best that I have ever met. I am not just talking of academics. I am speaking of being a human being. Now it is on to Stockholm. I look forward to the fishy things.
I am so proud of all three of my daughters. They have become wonderful human beings. It seems true that everything good comes in threes. It is a good thing that we did not produce a fourth. I am sure it would have been a boy and proceeded on to become the world's most famous deli-lout.

The Tempest

I have been watching the growing controversy going on in the Teapot Party. The nominee in Delaware appears to have associated herself with a group espousing witchcraft as a teen ager. The silly things that we all did as teen agers should not be held up to public scrutiny or held against us. It is a time for experimentation and making decisions that will influence the rest of our lives. Some things will be rejected and some things will be retained. How do we know something is not right for us if we have never tried it? Remember the adage about the first man to try eating an oyster.
The lady seems to ascribe to a rather strict conservative life style now. She is against masturbation and homosexuality and pre-marital sex and casual sex. She desires to have a job in Congress where the phrase "turning over a new page" takes on a whole new meaning. Let us know how that works out for you.

Scythence

In a surprise announcement that has rocked the astronomical community, the tiny principality of Elbownia announced today that it will launch its own probe to the Sun and beat the proposed NASA probe by at least five years. Not only that but the probe will only cost three dollars to build. The NASA probe is expected to cost over 100 million dollars due to the huge cost for the ceramic heat shield.
The National Elbownian Rocket Development Society explained the discrepancy between the cost of the two programs. "The stupid Americans are spending all of their money on heat shields. We are going to go at night!".

The Gathering

I awoke this morning to the sound of the geese. They must have spent the night on the high school field across the street, munching on the newly mown grass. They started honking away when first light came and now I imagine that they are on their way to their winter quarters.
Somehow there is sadness in the honking of the migrating geese. There is a loneliness to the sound of their gathering. I don't think that they are lonely. They are traveling in a gaggle of their friends and relatives.
It might be my attitude towards travelling. Each time that I have travelled, it has been a lonely time. To be away from home and family is not good for the soul. I have had many homes and only one family. The changing of homes became a routine that was not uncomfortable so it doesn't take a Holmesian intellect to deduce the root of the loneliness. My family is spread out all over the country. It would be nice to have a Gathering. To once more sit and read A Christmas Carol aloud and bask in the warmth of those that I love.

Endings

It is Labor Day weekend and all across Massachusetts the white belts and white shoes are headed for the closet. When I was a boy, most of the businessmen downtown would wear straw boaters with a black band during the Summer. I have not seen one of those in a long while.
The maple tree in the front yard is turning colors and the tomatoes are tired. The tomatoes are still trying their best but soon it will be picalilly time. Soon the Fall will be upon us.
Fall in New England, probably the best season that we have. The time of sweaters and wood smoke and hot cocoa and cinnamon doughnuts and boiled dinner and yard sales. Then will come Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. The turkey is always the right size and the right color and you don't have to save the price tags.
Then the Winter will begin to set in. I enjoy the Winter. Sleeping under a thick, warm, blanket while visions of sugar plums and stews and soups and roasts dance in your head. Dressing for the cold by layering and enjoying the cold by adjusting to it. It is the season to realize just how lucky we are to live where we do. It is the time of warm hearths and warm hearts. It is a time to rest and reflect. It is a time to be adjusted to, unlike Summer which is a time to be endured.
I guess that I am just an old Swamp Yankee but I enjoy being one. The crackling of a fireplace is preferable to the constant drone of an air conditioner. The stale smell of air conditioned air can in no way compete with the fragrance of an apple pie in the oven or freshly baked bread on the counter. Did I mention the cinnamon doughnuts?
I am sitting here with a blanket across my lap as there is a cool breeze blowing in the window, a promise of things to come, and there is Masterpiece Theater scheduled for tonight. It is not Poirot but it will suffice. It is the best of times. Last night was opera from St. Petersburg. It was very impressive. There was also a show about the origins of Homo Sapiens and how we learned to walk upright. The show stressed that at one time there were probably hundreds of different Hominids on the planet but that now we are alone. It was a sad commentary on our nature.

Dining Under the Stars

The squirrel had a wonderful meal last night. There were walnuts and hazelnuts followed by a lovely crisp cucumber. The squirrel also made off with the dish. It is nice to know that the little tyke is well nourished.
Yesterday was fried chicken and tomatoes I have been frying chicken with a liberal dose of chili powder and garlic powder and cumin on each side. It develops a wonderful crisp black crust on the skin that has no taste of being burned. The meat is very good and the skin is heaven. Along with sliced fresh tomatoes, this is a very good dish.
I wonder how it would be with fried squirrel?

Rain on Me

Yesterday I went for another walk in the rain. It reminded me of the Stevenson poem in "A Child's Garden of Verses". That collection also has "The Swing" which is probably the most powerful poem that I have ever read.
My feet got wet and I am sitting here with a small mountain of soggy tissues. I don't think that I have a cold but it can't be allergies. I am only allergic to two things and have been in contact with neither. I don't think that pollen can be a problem with so much rain.
I had to harvest most of the ripe tomatoes as they were beginning to split from all of the rain. Yesterday I made a fresh tomato sauce and it is quite good. I think that the quite good comes from the beef bones I put into it. They had been in the freezer for some time and slowly released their goodness to the long cooking sauce. Today I will try to clean out the freezer as I realized yesterday that there is very little room left in it and most of the things there are anonymous.
I think that the rain is over for a while. The Moon filled the bedroom with its light and cast shadows.
Yesterday I came upon a fat little squirrel chomping away on the cucumbers. It is just my luck to live near the world's only Vegan squirrel. I put a dish of walnuts and hazelnuts on his path to the cucumbers and hope that that will deter him. Sure it will! Today there will probably be fifty squirrels on the porch, clammering for more nuts and munching away on cucumbers while they wait. I have tried many times to outthink a squirrel and have never been successful. The only remedy for a squirrel infestation is a great big hawk. I hope that there are none in the neighborhood as I am very fond of watching the little darlings go about their business. Perhaps a little walnut vinagrette would go well on the cucumbers. That might keep them away or at least aid their digestion.

Damp and Cool

It is damp and cool here. This is my favorite kind of weather. I have been able to sleep with a blanket for several nights and I am wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Yesterday I went for a walk in the gentle, cool rain. I didn't go far as the tempo of the rain began to increase. I did make it to the library and got some books that I may have read before. That is one of the joys of having a failing memory. Books that you have thoroughly enjoyed before can be enjoyed again. The memory is improving though. I think that the mental exercises are helping. It is a task to do them but it seems to be helping. Balance seems to be the only problem now.

Before Sunrise

Each morning I awaken before the Sun rises. I have one or two strong cups of coffee and watch the horizon begin to brighten and the bats begin their journey home. A freight train passes through town about that time each morning. The lonesomeness of its call reminds me of when I worked in Texas and was so effected by the lonesome cry of a train passing through town. I was far away from home and missed it so.
What did people do before there was coffee for the morning? We all owe much to that Ethiopian goat herder. It seems to sharpen the mind and stimulate the body.
Speaking of sharpening the mind, yesterday I drew another one of my blanks. There was something that I should have easily remembered and could not bring to mind. I told myself that this situation was ridiculous and sat and dug through my mind. It was not easy as the thing that I was trying to remember was flitting ahead of my search and eluding the tendrils I was casting forth to grasp it. I dug and I dug and lo and behold I reached out mentally and grabbed it by the foot. It just flickered into my grasp like a fidditch. I had done it.
I have lately just let such a situation, and there has been more than one, go and told myself not to worry about it. This time I said enough is enough and began digging. It is reassuring to know that the capacity for recall is still there if enough diligence is applied. The formula for voltage drop on co-axial cable is gone forever but it is pleasant to inventory so many of the memories associated with my children. I didn't do much with my life but I was a Daddy! It is enough.

Scary Dreams

Last night was full of scary dreams. The dreams were not terrifying but they were scary for me.
I was in a very small church in Salem Massachusetts. I was with an old dear friend, whose name in the dream was Mrs. Davidson but that is not her name in reality, and had lost my glasses and shoes. It was raining and my feet were getting wet and I could not find my shoes as I had lost my glasses. It was not Mrs. Davidson from Warehouse 13.
The lady that was called Mrs. Davidson in the dream and I parted company many years ago on not very amicable terms. Why were we so blissful in the dream, I kept wondering if she had an ulterior motive. Her personality in real life is much like the Mrs. Davidson in Warehouse13.
No shoes in God's house, Moses would understand. Not being able to see clearly, I wonder how that relates to being in a small Protestant sect's church.
Salem Massachusetts on Friday the thirteenth? I have been there on Hallow'een and would never go there again on that day. It is a madhouse.
I have read that dreams are wishes that the mind makes. I would wish for none of the aforementioned things. Mrs. Davidson in real life is a wonderful person but always has some sort of scheme or plan going on in the background. The bliss would not be worth the constant uncertainty.
The bliss that I have now is simple. My life is simple, lonely but simple. I have no complications or worries. I guess that I will just "Ease on Down the Road".
That thought brings to mind an old Country and Western song that could be my motto. "Cigarettes and whiskey, and wild wild women, they'll drive you crazy, they'll drive you insane" If you are lucky.
There is another song "I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home, and if you don't like me then leave me alone. I eat when I'm hungry, I drink when I'm dry, and if moonshine don't kill me I'll live till I die.". That is too long for a motto but the pathos of Country music never fails to move me.

Testing, 1, 2, 3.

Sometimes, when I am lying in bed, my head gets overrun with unrelated thoughts. Sometimes these thoughts are not thoughts but they are dreams. The difference between thoughts and dreams is not apparent to me. I would see a Doctor about it but the Doctor I would choose will not be a Doctor for several weeks.
Last night's controversy was somewhat reassuring. To think that a dolt such as me could even have such thoughts. It revolved around the question of whether the Deity still tests us or whether the Deity has abandoned testing us. After thousands of years and billions of stiff necks, has the Deity finally run out of F's?
In times gone by if you looked out the window and saw hundreds of bellicose Phillistines in your yard, you could be pretty sure that you were being tested. Now I think that we are being allowed to test ourselves. The test that I am undergoing is pretty self-evident.
The man on the first floor, the landlord, does not appear to be a very nice man. He does several things that test my patience and restraint.
A while ago I brought him some Swedish Meatballs that I had made. He was in the kitchen making Hamburger Helper. HE IS FRENCH! I wanted to scream. He is the only Frenchman I have ever met that would eat such crap. To have such a heritage of culinary excellence and abandon it is heresy. Not only that but he never brought the bowl back There I was bringing him something that I had spent a great deal of time preparing and ther he was making Hamburger Helper. I left immediately, not wanting to watch him slather the meatballs with ketchup. I am sure that the only thing about this incident that remains in his mind is that he got a free bowl out of it.
The man has a grandson who is about three or four. The boy is a very nice bright and pleasant little boy. The grandfather takes care of him during the day as the boy's Mother is not there. She probably has to work. The grandfather spends most of the day hollering at the boy. "Don't do this and Don't do that and Stop that.". I was there one day when the boy fell down the stairs and had cut his lip. I went over to comfort him and the grandfather became incensed.
"Leave him alone! I told him to hold the railing. He has got to learn to suffer the consequences of his actions. If you baby him he will never learn to be a man. He will become a sissy!". Because he is the landlord, I held my mouth and let it be. The boy is only three or four! The man has at least five children and they never come to visit. It must have been hard for them. I met his son and he is really a basket case. He is not a sissy but he is a very confused man.
Each day the landlord sits on the porch and listens to Rush Limbaugh. Because he is a little hard of hearing he has the volume turned very high. I am not hard of hearing and the trash that comes from that radio program infuriates me. Then the landlord later expounds to me all of the wonderful knowledge he has accumulated.
Is this the test? I hold my peace, I smile, and I try to be nice to the man. Am I passing the test or am I simply knuckling under because he is the landlord? D-.
The neighbors in the back are motorcycle people. They are very nice but they crank up their Harleys at all hours of the day and night. Yesterday I brought them some tomatoes and salad greens. I was young once and the day that I finally had some mufflers installed on my car, the lady next door sent me a Thank You card. B-?
The man that owns the convenience store down the street is from Bangladesh. He is a Moslem and yesterday we had a long conversation about Ramadan. I don't think that I could complete such a holiday. We spoke of the Deity. He has the same opinion that I do. There is One God. One god of many names in different areas of the world and different cultures. One God, many names.
I like the man very much. Is it because he has the same opinions as me? C-.
So the testing continues. It will fill a lifetime. There are no Phillistines in our yards, unless we live on Wall Street or near a law school, so we will be tested by the petty annoyances that are only annoyances because of the way we personally think. If we think that someone is rude or uneducated, perhaps we should send them a card thanking them for their presence. A+. It doesn't change anything but it just might brighten the day of a fellow human being.
I have never met another human that I thought was evil. They might be different from me but I am also different from them and therefore we will all journey together down life's paths. Perhaps I will find their footsteps on my paths. Perhaps they will find mine on their paths. The only good thing about having a stiff neck is that you are capable of bearing heavy burdens.
Stand up straight, smile, and whistle a happy tune. That pain in your neck might soon go away because you are the only one that perceives it. It comes from you, not anyone else.

I Ain't Heavy

Yesterday my Brother took me to the grocery store. He was feeling very poorly but took me to the store anyway. He has been wonderful to me over the past years. Twice he took me in when I had no place else to go. He found jobs for me when I had no income. When he and his wife moved, they arranged for me to have their apartment. That apartment was one of the nicest places that I have ever lived. It was up high and only twenty yards from the edge of the ocean. He was instrumental in my getting the job driving the taxi, probably the best job that I have ever had.
When I had the stroke, he and his darling wife got an ambulance for me, arranged for my rehabilitation, took me into their home (for the third time) and cared for me, and helped me to find the place where I live now. I don't know what I would have done without the support of him and his wonderful wife. She has the patience of an angel and put up with my strange ways without ever complaining. The poor woman, was stuck alone in the country with two Swedes. She will go straight to heaven as she has served her time in purgatory.
My Brother is a tower of strength and scruples. He is probably the most moral person that I have known since my Father passed away. He looks like my Father, he acts like my Father, and he has the same perception of the ridiculous that my Father had.
I can't praise his wife enough. She has put up with me so many times and for such length. I have only known three women in my life that have done so. The first two each eventually reached their limit and tossed me out. Both were more than justified in doing so. I think of my Brother's wife as a contemporary to the wife in "Death of the Hired Hand".
I often wonder if I will ever find love again. Then I think of my Brother and his wife and know that there is no need to wonder, it is just a few miles from me.

Median of Emotion

The premonitions of yesterday were groundless. Today is a middle of the road affair. There were no anguishing dreams, I don't think that there were any dreams at all. I am hoping that yesterday was the nadir of my emotional state. It is very unusual for me to have highs and lows of emotion. I am usually a flat-liner emotionally. That is as close to flat-lining that I want to get.
Diet may have something to do with all of this adoo. Yesterday I made enough ratatouille for four people and ate all of it myself. I will try to include many more vegetables in my diet. Yesterday included avoiding my old nemesis and that also may have had something to do with the extreme low fading.

After All These Years

Emotion has not been part of my life for many years. Too many hurts, too many disappointments, and too many tears brought me to that state. Don't get involved and you won't get hurt. So I don't know what has been happening over the past two days.
] Yesterday was filled with euphoria. I even went to the library and got a copy of a book I had read long ago. I had forgotten the story line of the book.
When I read the book years ago, I was a different person and had not experienced many of the traumas of life. I read the book today and was overcome by the story line. It wasn't the whole book, it was just one incident that happened in the book. Slowly the darkness started to seep into my mind. It will pass I am sure but for the moment things are dark and seem hopeless.
I have always thought that I have tasted the best that life has to offer. As I sit and reflect now, the taste is of ashes. I don't relish the dreams that are bound to occur tonight.

Comforting Dreams

Dreams play a large part in my life. Most of them can be quite disturbing. The most prevalent are related to being late for work or back in the Army. I really don't like being late for anything. For a partially rehabilitated control freak, being in the Army was torturous. A soldier has about as much self control as Howdy Doody did.
Some dreams can be so comforting that when you awaken, you want to go back to sleep and snuggle in the comfort of the dream. Last night had such a dream.
I have always been ambivalent about God. I am Old Testament oriented. I once took a test about my religious beliefs and the result stated that I would be most comfortable as an Orthodox Jew or a Bahia or a Quaker. I never pursued the results as I was raised in my Mother's faith and feel it would be a betrayal to her to change anything.
God can be very scary to me. Not as scary as angels, the Diety's Leg Breakers, but scary in the potential retribution God can impose. I have done a lot of reading about religion. I realize that much of the Old Testament has precedents in the Mesopotamian and Canaanite religions. I have read parts of the Torah and the Koran and the religions of India and see so many similarities.
Several years ago I read that God tried to kill Moses and failed. That really set off my fear bells. There was poor Moses who was addressed by an omnipotent diety, "Take off your shoes before you come into the living room.", my Mother would have been proud. God, all powerful and incapable of erring, failed! Moses was the only witness. Moses must have wet himself. Witnesses have a habit of disappearing. Moses's mission was to go and threaten Pharoah, another risky occupation.
Last night I had a different dream. The dream simply consisted of God walking in the Garden in the morning when the dew is on the plants, the air is gentle and cool, and the birds are singing. I have done this many times and enjoy the comfort that it brings. A gentle God, walking in the Garden in the Morning, something I can identify with.
Of course this was before He stumbled on His beloved children. "I gave you one rule, not a hundred, and allowed you to do anything that you wanted, and you had to go and break that one rule!". He must have been so proud when Adam, the man he had created, manned up and said "The woman made me do it!".
So there is now comfort. No fire and brimstone and plagues and invaders, just the comfort of a gentle walk in the garden. The Thunderers and roarers and retributerors of the other religions are laid to rest. A walk in the Garden, is that what Paradise will be all about?
The morning mist, the dew on the plants, a gentle breeze, and the melodies of birds are something to look forward to. Of course, having lived my life as I have, I am more likely to be invited to a nice backyard barbeque than a walk in the Garden. That flaming sword at the entrance would be too easy to convert into a nils-kabob.
Thank You for the dream. It is comforting and comforting is all that I really need.

Edible Chili, Finally

Yesterday I made chili. It is edible, finally! I used cubed beef instead of ground. I didn't empty the whole spice and herb cabinet into it. It is resting in the refrigerator now and will have the final touch-ups to it today. I cut way back on the chili powder, six tablespoons is too much, and increased the amount of cumin, to me the taste of chili is the taste of cumin, and simmered all of it with tomatoes for about four hours. I had it with rice and chopped fresh onion and a lot of cheese. It was presentable but the real test will come today. A good pot of chili needs a day to rest.
I also cooked up some pinto beans in another pot. Here the dumping of the herbs and spices got their day. Cilantro and parsley and chili peppers and basil from the garden went in also. Onion and garlic and carrots from the refrigerator made their debut also. I had a ham bone and some ham scraps in the freezer and they plopped in also. I haven't tasted the beans yet but I think that they will be too salty from the ham. If they are, in will go some potatoes and beef broth to cut the salt and the result will be bean soup. I didn't add salt as I never salt anything that I cook unless it is stir-fry. The stir-fry gets blessed with soy sauce.
I learned an interesting thing yesterday. Vegetarians and Vegans eat oysters. It is because oysters have no nervous system and therefore can feel no pain and oysters are a sustainable resource. I have never been overly fond of oysters, Oysters Rockefeller are a huge exception, but I wonder if the same conditions apply to clams and scallops and mussels. I am very fond of all of them. I am not a big fan of steamers but fried clams, Clams Casino, fried scallops, and mussels in wine sauce make me think of those halcyon days living near New Bedford and having the pick of the finest seafood in the country. I will close now as the keyboard is getting a bit squishy from the drops of saliva.

A welcome change

I am usually adverse to any type of change. There has been a change in the weather that is really welcome. The last two mornings when I stepped out onto the porch to have morning coffee, I had to go back inside to put a shirt on. It is that cool, almost cold out before the Sun comes up. I have been harvesting peppers and parsley and herbs from the containers. I have actually had several ripe tomatoes and have a cucumber and greens that will soon be a salad. I don't think that I have had a salad in years. We are entering August and soon it will be the blessed sweater weather. The leaves will turn, there will be frost on the porch, and we will enter into the restful time of Winter and hot cocoa and pies and baking. That is one of the attractions of New England, there is always another season coming. They are all anticipated greatly and don't wear out their welcome by staying too long. These changes are good.

Sometimes

Sometimes the world is a place of wonder and beauty. The birds are singing, the breeze is gentle, and I rejoice in the gentle happiness of being alive.
Sometimes I feel as if life has served me a big bowl of donkey fazoo. Today is a fazoo day but when life gives you fazoo, make a big plate of fazoo burgers.
I have a piece of beef in the refrigerator that needs cooking. I have been considering chili or Italian meat sauce or hamburgers and beans. Maybe I will make Yankee Chili.
Yankee Chili consists of hamburger, baked beans, onions, green peppers, garlic, tomatoes, and cold beer while it cooks. An extra shot of molasses at the end makes it perfect. Decision made!

In the Middle of the Night

Here I am again, up in the middle of the night. It isn't that I have trouble sleeping. The problem is that I have no trouble sleeping at all. It is midnight and I have already had ten hours of sleep.
It was hot and humid yesterday so I retreated to the coolness of the bedroom and started to read. The last thing that I remember reading was some Wordsworth and I must have dozed off around two P.M..
It is very pleasant right now. There is a cool breeze coming through the window and I am listening to Katydids in the trees outside. The sound of Katydids is pleasant but makes one glad that Katydids have no access to electric amplifiers. They are not exactly melodious. Katydids would be a good name for the band of the boy next door. Unfortunately they do have access to electric amplifiers. They do not have access to the knobs that turn down the volume. Neither did I when my Father used to holler up the stairs "Turn that darned thing down!".
So "As you sow....". Who knew that reaping could be so many years away?

Cool Breeze

Cool Breeze was the name of the dog that my friend Susanne Peterson had. Cool breeze is also what is wafting through the window as I sit here.
It has been very warm the last few days, very warm with too much humidity. Last evening I retreated early to the comfort of the cooler bedroom and soon fell asleep while reading. This led to missing Hercule Poirot on PBS. I was disappointed when I awoke this morning and realized that I had missed it. There are very few things on television that I actually enjoy and Poirot is the major one. It must be because I identify so much with his fussiness.
From what I can glean from the news, leaders of many countries are once again beating the war drums. Fools! What ever happened to the days when the leader was the first man in the front lines. Even if they weren't, they were at least on the battlefield. Even Napoleon was within range of his opponent's cannon. John of Bohemia led the last charge of his knights even though he was blind. Alexander was always at the forefront of his battles. There might be a lot less conflict if today's leaders had to face the dangers that their troops face instead of directing things from underground bunkers miles away from the carnage. It brings to mind an old adage: "Old men make war, young men die in it.". Did we learn nothing from Flanders Field?
Make sure that your children learn "Dulce et Decorum Est.". The latest folly is our attempt to elect by a national plebiscite a leader of Pashtun tribesmen. Doesn't anyone realize that they have an Electoral College that actually works? You can't win over the hearts and minds of a nation by blowing their hearts and minds all over the landscape. They tend to resent that.

Play a Song for Me

Last night I watched two specials on PBS. One was about Neil Young and one was about Bob Dylan. The similarities and differences between the two men was remarkable.
Both men appeared to not have been a very good companion when they were younger. Young doesn't appeared to have changed much but Dylan seems to have aged well like an old wine. Neither had an outstanding singing voice but each one was the voice of their generational sphere.
Dylan seemed to come off as the nicer person. It is strange that the most remote of these personalities should seem so human. The humor and wit of the younger Dylan was refreshing. The way in which he pursued his muse was admirable. Despite almost the whole world rejecting his change of instruments, he carried on towards his goal. He seems to have never yearned after fame or gold but simply gone his own way.
Young seems to have the bigger ego but Dylan showed great respect and admiration of those that went before him. His show also had extensive interviews with Joan Baez, something that I could sit and watch all night. That woman showed such intelligence and talent and compassion and courage in her life that she has become an icon of my life.
Speaking of the term "my" or the term "I", Young uses it a lot and the people on the peripherals of each entertainer are redolent with tales of how important they were to the careers of each but Dylan doesn't seem obsessed with the terms "Me", "My", or "I". His reverant descriptions of Pete Seegar and Johnny Cash were moving. His cynical, humorous,wit applied to a young Bob Dylan gave a new view of him.
Those men were the voices of a turbulent, strident time. The times were bathed in violence and dissidence. The people were of a kinder, gentler, more human type. They cared. If only Joan Baez could play a song for us now. Perhaps she and Dylan could share one final stage. It might heal some old wounds and some new ones.

Parting can be not so sorrowful

Recently Daughter #1 expressed an interest in bacon. The following link gives an old secret recipe from The Catholic Housewife's Alternatives to Divorce Cookbook.
http://www.bbqaddicts.com/blog/recipes/bacon-explosion/

Apply twice a week and rid your home of noxious elements.

Creature of the Night

I have become a Creature of the Night. I have not done so because of some sinister metamorphisis. I have done so because of the heat during the afternoons. The temperature has been over eighty degrees each afternoon for several days. While those temperatures are not overly oppressive, they are not comfortable so I retreat to the bedroom which is air conditioned. I lay down and read and soon begin to snooze. I usually wake up around two o'clock A.M. and get up as it is relatively cooler then. There is a gentle cool breeze coming in the window even as I type these words.
I have coffe on the porch and listen to the sounds of the night. Many years ago I was uncomfortable in the dark. That condition persisted until my Father explained to me that mankind is the most fearsome creature of the night. No denizen of the dark can compare to the ferocity of a deviant human being. Suddenly the dark became no longer fearsome but a gentle soft blanket that allows one to concentrate on the senses other than sight. The sense of hearing and smell and touch all now get a chance to report their findings without being overpowered by the tyranny of sight. Gentle is the night and soft is its touch. Earlier this Summer the lilac bushes across the driveway were a special treat in the night.
There is another special time. Just as the dawn begins to paint the sky, the fragrance of frying eggs and bacon and brewing coffee heralds the morning of the neighbors. It is a moving time and reminds me of an old rhyme.
"In the morning when I wakey, all I want is eggs and bakey.". It is good to start the day with a potential embollism.
Yesterday I washed and disinfected the kitchen floor. Today I will bleach and wash my dirty laundry. I will not hang it outside on the clothes line to dry as I was told a long time ago that it is not a good idea to air your dirty laundry for the neighbors to see. So bleach is on the schedule for today also. I use a lot of bleach, about three gallons a month. Bleach is an old trusted friend. It is possible for any germ that reproduces sexually to develop a resistance to germicides but it is not possible to develop a resistance to a substance that dissolves you instead of poisoning you.

Chili Dreams and Thoughts

The thoughts and dreams that come to me are a constant source of wonder and appreciation of the complexity of the "little grey cells". Tonight's episode is very perplexing.
Yesterday I made chili. I made it the way my Brother likes it, without beans. The chili simmered for about four hours. The chili is not too hot but the day was so I wandered to the store and got some ice cold beer. Chili and ice cold beer are a match made in, well Hades seems to be the proper location. Chili over rice and shaved cheese are one of my favorite dishes.
Now comes the wonder. A dream and a thought dominated my evening. I had watched a little television and went to bed. I awoke shortly before midnight with a song and a memory vividly in my mind. Many years ago one who is still dear to my heart took me to see the play "Jesus Christ Superstar". It was one of the most impressive things that I have ever experienced. There was pathos and comedy (New Testament and comedy?) and one of the most poignant things I have ever experienced. The thing was the song sung by Mary of Magdala. The song was "I don't know how to love him".
Several years ago I read that book by Dan Brown , called The Davinci Code, that addressed the subject of the relationship of Jesus and Mary of Magdala and an old interest was rekindled. Questions arose so I started digging. How she got such a reputation from those seven devils is one question. How the Elevated Eleven formed their "NO GIRLS ALLOWED" club is another. What happened to her is another. Did she go to Ephesus with Mary of the Immaculate Conception much like Ruth's journey? So many questions, so many suspicions, do women disappear from the New Testament after Jesus died? It is reminiscent of the Mother Goddess being supplanted by the endless list of Thunderers and that Cretan priestess being told "There will be an emnity between you and the serpent and, by the way, that dress has to go. Put some damned clothes on.".
I have always thought that men took over religion when they realized it was a fertile source of power and money. I know there is God. I don't have much respect for religion. Rome's fascination with the Shoes has always raised an eyebrow in my mind. Not sandals but shiny, elaborate shoes! I would wager that somewhere in the Vatican there is a large closet crammed with all sorts of shiny elaborate shoes because there is no way that all the Popes in two thousand years were 9 1/2 D's. A closet full of shoes, Hmmmmm, what else is in the closet? Is there a stuffed tiger in there? For as we all know, "NO GIRLS ALLOWED".
Enough with the ponderings of a dusty, wrinkled mind. There is still that tiny, delicate, sorrowful, waif standing on that stage singing her heart out "I Don't Know How to Love Him.". Does anyone? If there is ever a national anthem for Christianity I would nominate that song and the pitiful, pleading voice that sang it.
Thank you dear one for that memory and so many more. That litany of fond and meaningful memories must be left alone. "There are times and there are places".
I hope that the dream and thoughts are not just a result of the chili. If they are, chili is going to become a mainstay of the menu.

Pillow Thoughts

Last night was an uneasy night. I awakened in the very early hours of today. I don't know why, maybe there was a noise outside. The first thing that I noticed was that it was quite bright in the room. It was the Moon shining in the window. It illuminated the whole room. I lay staring at the Moon.
Then the wheels started whirring. I began thinking of how the Sun dominates our lives and how years ago, when people slept outside, the Moon must have had more of an effect on them. I pondered what meanings the ancients attached to the Moon and the gender they ascribed to Her. If the Moon is female, then the Moon must be the giver of life. The Sun nurtures all growing things and he must be the sustainer of life.
Oh Boy, the wheels started buzzing. The question popped in "What is the meaning and purpose of Life?".
So here is a synopsis of my thoughts under the Lunar influence. The purpose of Life is to create new Life. The secondary purpose is to nurture that new Life. The gender roles of the Human Race would seem to validate these thoughts but gender roles have become so convoluted and distorted. Fathers have lost their way and Mothers have had to take over the nurturing. This would make sense if there were still cave bears lurking at the entrance to the cave but makes no sense in our world today. The NFL and Nascar and Final Fantasy and Warrior based games are no way to spend your day. The only such role a man today must fill is when there is a noise downstairs in the night and he must get up and go see what it is. He must also sleep on the door side of the bed.
So I arrived at some conclusion about the Purpose, the Meaning is still a mystery. I need another phrase, Life is far from Mean.
I wonder what the noise was, it was probably a Cave Mouse.

D Day

June sixth was D Day and is often referred to as The Longest Day. Yesterday was D Day and the longest day for me. I thought that the day would never end.
The only bright spot was an excellent Masterpiece Theater on PBS. There was an excellent opera and Mystery on. The Mystery was broadcast twice in a row and it is enjoyable to watch for the clues the second time when one already knows the solution. Once again I considered the difference between English actors and American actors. The subtlety and lack of bravado of the English are very remarkable. Bravo PBS!!!
The next Mystery will be a Hercule Poirot. I am on tenterhooks.

No place that I'd rather be.

Every once and a while I take an inventory of my life. This morning seems like a good time to do that. The reason is the state that I live in. I awoke to a very cool breeze.
Yesterday was very warm. Warm, not the hot baking days of late July and August that let us know how a cookie feels during its birth pangs. I went to bed with just a little moisture emanating from me in the warmth. I awoke this morning with the need to put on a blanket.
I began thinking of how lucky I am to live in Massachusetts. This state is beautiful and green and civilized. There are very few bugs, no tornados, no racial crisises, no mass murderers, and no conspiracy devotees. It is a peaceful place with Simpson-like skies and people that genuinely enjoy living among other people. We have problems just like other people but they are rarely of a scope to make national news.
Massachusetts was the home of John Eliot and John Hancock and Horace Mann. It is also the birthplace of the Fig Newton. It is also the home of many fine institutions of learning and fine hospitals and the home of Big Poppie.
I live in a typical New England small town. There are four churches within walking distance of my home. There is also a fine library, three schools, and a shop that sells nothing but Hot Dogs. Church bells toll the time each hour and people greet each other each morning as we all walk in the coolness of the Eos's blessing. There are playgrounds and atheletic fields. There is no McDonalds or Walmart or barroom.
So, the things that may be missing from my life go unnoticed. They are hidden from view by the plethora of good things.
I would like to be closer to my children but they themselves are spread so far apart that it would not be possible to be close to all of them. I did so enjoy watching them grow from children to very admirable young women. It would be a joy to watch them travel through maturity with the intense niceness that they each have. I claim no credit for the amazing human beings that they have become. That all came from their Mother who taught them the joys of learning and music and art and compassion. She taught me the same and I will never forget being so overwhelmed by Les Miserables, which I would have never seen on my own. The same goes for Jesus Christ, Superstar. That love of human achievement was passed on to her children, one of whom took me to a performance of Handel's Messiah with a full orchestra.
Once again, there is no place that I would rather be unless it was standing at the sausage and peppers stand on Landsdowne Street. It was nice to see Manny again.

Women as priests

There seems to be a controversy raging about allowing Catholic priests to marry and to allow women to be ordained as Catholic priests. People are asking why the Church follows guidelines instituted so many years ago. I don't have many answers but I do have some misgivings.
First of all, the expense that the Church would incur. Imagine all of the Catholic churches all over the world. Multiply that by the number of huge stained glass windows in those churches. Imagine how much it would cost to put draperies or curtains on all of those windows. Imagine how much it would cost to put comfy, squishy, expensive pillows on all of the pews in all of those churches.
Priests usually all wear the same robes for Mass and dress in black during the times when they are not celebrating Mass. Would women priests be willing to all dress alike all of the time? Incense is burned during the Mass. Soon there would be No Smoking signs all over the church and the scent of incense would only be a memory.
IAt the end of each pew there would be a bowl of a sweet smelling mixture of herbs and flowers. The Vatican might approve of this as there is a chance that they could garner some income from it. Churches could be required to buy Popepourri only from the Vatican. This could be added to by marketing Popeland Springs water for the baptismal and entrance holy water fonts. I can envision the ad now.
"Popeland Springs, coming to you straight from Rome.
Popeland Springs from the spring beneath the Dome.".
Many secrets are divulged in Confession. Would women priests be able to keep those juicy little tidbits of misbehavior under their hats during conclaves of each other?
Eventually women would become Cardinals. Cardinals all wear the same red robes and hats. Where would that go? The advantage to the robes would be the extermination of the most dangerous question ever asked. "Does this make my butt look too big?". Why ask such a question when there is only one answer that a non-suicidal male may offer?
In time a woman would become Pope. The Pope has a dazzling assortment of robes that he wears, each delegated to a certain Holy Day. "You expect me to wear the same robe for the Feast of Festivus that I wore last year?". The same would apply to the only hat that the Pope wears. Now comes the biggest roadblock. The Pope always wears the same pair of shoes! Those shoes came into fashion two thousand years ago. They would be as popular as yesterday's fish.
Sooner or later all of Christianity must reunite. There would be an ecumenical Pope. Who would get the most votes to become Pope? My money is on Doctor Phil or Oprah.
Then would come the cost of changing all of the Bibles in the world, there are a lot of them.
"Our Father/Mother, who art in heaven". Changing all of the He's to S/He might cost a bit.
Then comes the changes in the Holy Eucharist. No more plain white wafers. Whole grain, no carbohydrate, yoghurt based wafers would be the business to be in.
Lastly, the concept of priests marrying. This would put an end to all of the nuns in the world. All convents would have to become co-ed. I can hear the comment now. "I saw you staring at that black robed hussy.".
There are not enough funds left in the Church to provide on-site day care for every church in the world. There would be a saving on wine because priests would not be allowed to start drinking before noon time on Sunday. Every church would have to have a woman priest to celebrate the new Sacrament of Abortion (which, if men gave birth would already be a Sacrament). This topic brings to mind an anecdote.

The Pope was making a speech from the balcony of Saint Peter's. The speech was about birth control being a sin.
A little old Italian lady was in the front row of the assembled crowd. After the speech was over she stood up and cried out "You no playa da game, you no maka da rules".

There remains the problem of certain priests with little boys. I have no tolerance for this situation. Some old Protestant sects have a solution for deviant behavior. They remove the offending member. I suggest this be done with a dull chain saw. This could be done on the Feast of Saint Abelard.
Didn't the Old Testament have a solution for this problem? I don't know what the citizens of Gommorah were guity of but I do know what the others were guilty of. It is an abomination!
The Church and the Boy Scouts and the Congressional pages could find a solution if they would emulate the Cub Scouts. The Cub Scouts don't have Den Fathers. They have Den Mothers. Keep the boys way from the men when they are so young that they are vulnerable. Of course I am sure if the Cub Scout organization starts waving some money around, they too will have violated thirty year olds coming out of the woodwork.

Better than

I was saddened to learn of Helen Thomas's remarks to the press. Is this what happens to us all when we get older or are those remarks just the emerging of long held beliefs? For a lady with such gifts of knowledge and ability it is sad to see such a misguided view of history and the present.
There are a lot of people that harbor anti-semitism both here and overseas. It is often said that Jews think that they are better than everyone else. They think that they are smarter and more able than the rest of the human race. A careful reading of their holy scriptures and ours will reveal that Jews don't think that they are better than everyone else. Just God does.
Jews are the only nation that has retained its national identity, remember that a nation has nothing to do with geography. I guess the promise that was made to their nation is slowly coming true. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the entire human race decided to become the Human Nation? Maybe a start would be to drop the "s" from the United Nations. The roads to Megiddo should be lined with olive trees, not bunkers. It might be a good place to relocate the UN headquarters to. That might give the UN delegates a different view on peace in the middle east and allowing the spread of nuclear weapons or WMD's as the term was changed to when it was discovered that the head of the most powerful country on Earth could not pronounce the word nuclear properly.

Lately

Lately I have been trying to meditate. The concept seems so easy, just concentrate on one thing. The time I choose to do this is when I am in a horizontal position. I like to call this my pre-nap thinking. The thinking rattles around in my mind like a marble in a boxcar. Think about one thing only, I find that almost impossible to do. Thoughts about the present and the past and the future announce their presence in a cacaphony of images and ideas.
Last night I started thinking about thinking. Why can't I just think about one thing? Why do I want to meditate? It is not as if my life is filled with crisis and confusion. I live very simply. I do what I want, when I want, and if I want. I cook, I read, I walk, and here is the culprit, I watch television. I watch PBS and Two and a Half Men.
PBS, slowly I turned, step by step...... PBS is the problem. They constantly deal with the brain and yoga and meditation and the need to address the vagaries of modern living. What vagaries, I live like people did three hundred years ago. I have no pressing needs or worrisome tribulations, my life is just easing on down the road counting each moment that avoids that long grey night as a bonus. PBS is not good for me. There should be more Two and a Half Men. Charlie has the right idea about life. Wouldn't we all be happy to live his life? Unfortunately I am not like Charlie. I am very much like his brother Alan. Silly misgivings and remembrances and lamenting the past are constantly on my mind. Dealing with such thoughts will not be accomplished by meditation. I must learn to deal with such thoughts by telling them, to paraphrase the Poet, "Out damned thought!". Sure, like that is going to work! I just tried to concentrate on that one thought and the image of Durham forest on the move rushed in. That brings on the thought of transplanting the tomatoes, which I accomplished yesterday. So the kaleidoscope of images and thoughts will continue. I am used to it and it is an old and welcome friend. Lay On McThought! Does Dunsinane have enough tomatoes? I have more than enough cilantro if it needs some. Do Spanish Mothers threaten to wash out their children's mouth with cilantro if they use bad language?
Meditate, sure, there is a lot of hope in that direction. Yoga, if I need more exercise I will move further away from the library and take out bigger books. Daniel Amen, you are a wimpy little self-promoting book seller. You are very smart and great but you already know that.

Creepy

The weather here has taken a turn to creepy. It is very calm. There are sporadic flashes of lightening. The muted thunder signifies that the lightening is far away. It is very warm, not hot but very warm. It is moist. The humidity must be fairly high. If I were living in Nebraska I would be heading for the storm cellar. About sixty years ago there was a very serious tornado in Worcester, which is about ten miles from here. A cool breeze would be nice and reassuring about now.
Every time I see the word creep, I think of Watergate. The Committee to Re-Elect the President was the mastermind behind the break-in. How appropriate.
I don't remember if President Nixon was impeached. All he did was subvert almost all of the laws of the United States of America. Later findings indicated that the reason that the Democrats pursued him so vehemently was that CREEP had dried up all the Democrats traditional areas of political contributions. The symbol of the Republican Party is the elephant. Elephants have long memories. President Clinton boinked some bimbo. The Republicans saw their chance for revenge and leapt. So we ended up with a Republican President and we all know how that ended up.
One way to solve the financial problems of the government might be to broadcast the daily workings of the government as a soap opera. The ratings would be stupendous and the resulting advertising income might help to reduce the national debt. Then would come the Summer when NCIS (No Congress In Session) would come on. The American people would have a chance to relax for, as the pundit said, "No man's life or property is safe while the Legislature is in session.".
President Clinton, I miss you. It was a simpler time. There was a huge surplus in the budget, you refused to send troops to Africa, there was a trombone player in the White House, and the President was concerned with boinking, not bombing. I wish that he could run again. Times have certainly changed.