Today is Primary Election Day in Arizona. But if you are a Democrat, as I am, it doesn't mean much. For example, in the governor's race there are six Republican candidates vying for the nomination. On the Democrat side there is just one. In Yavapai County, where I live, there are four Republican candidates for two seats in the State House of Representatives. On the Democrat side, just one. For a member of the Blue Man party, life in a predominately red county can be frustrating. Still I voted. And I have the sticker to prove it.
There are more independents than Republicans or Democrats in Arizona now. They may be leaning left because one news story I read this morning said only 6 percent of them had requested early ballots. With no, or very few, races on the Democratic side of the ballot, they may just be sitting this one out.
The real test will come in November, at the General Election.
By the way, I have a friend in Phoenix who registered many years ago as a Republican. I berated him loudly until he told me he did it so he could vote in the Primary Elections for the weakest Republican candidate. I wonder how many like him are out there.
This was one of my mother's favorite piano pieces. I doubt she'd have appreciated Victor Borge's introduction of it as the Moonlight Son-of-a-nata. I liked Borge but I also like the serious performance of the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven.
Normally on TBT I post a picture of myself from my past. But this Thursday I'm changing the format a bit. First, from some time back and I'm not even sure where this occurred . . probably Iraq or Afghanistan . . my grandson, then-Sergeant Russell Milburn with the late Robin Williams.
Then a couple of pictures I received just this morning.
Sergeant Milburn, you see, is now a civilian. That's a photo of him and his lovely wife, Kayla, and the new addition to their family, Alexis Marie.
She was born last night and I (and her parents) think she's a stunner.
Please accept this slight deviation from the norm from a proud great-grandfather.
SWMBO bought a large bag of limes recently and I had been badgering her about making a Key Lime Pie. She said she'd been thinking about it. This went on for a couple of days. Then yesterday she came into my den and sat down at my computer. I asked what she was going to do and she said she had found a recipe on the Interwebs for Key Lime Pie and it was so simple that I COULD MAKE IT! Well now. A challenge like that can't be ignored. She said it only had three ingredients, she'd bought a ready-made graham cracker crust and she'd even juice the limes for me. (Actually she didn't get around to that so I had to do it but that's okay.) So, here's a picture of Emeril Lagasse's Key Lime Pie (as prepared by me.)
Taste? To die for. Thanks, Emeril.
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Now, Sunday morning.
You know how cats love sunshine, no matter how warm it is? Judy came into the living room this morning and found Blackwell in the only square of sunshine in the room. And, he seemed to say, "I'm not sharing!"
By the way, my new header picture could be Blackwell but it's not.
Gentle Readers, you're in for a treat this week. Thanks to the kindness of strangers . . well, not strangers, exactly. Actually good friends. Anyway I have a plethora (that means a whole lot) of funnies for you this week. So sit back, relax and prepare to laugh.
First off, one especially for my blogger buddy, Quilted Dogs. (I hope she's reading today.)
Speaking of the difference between dogs and cats . . .
Staying with that animal theme for a moment . . .
Some of you, I bet, are more than pleased that it's "back-to-school" time of year . . .
Kids should be thankful for all their parents have done for them . . .
After all, it's not easy for "we seniors" these days . . .
And if we make it to the Pearly Gates . . .
Well, as usual, back to the cats . . .
(That one's for Scott of Low and Slow) And finally, I'm through . . . almost . . .
Thanks to many contributors this week. Have a fantastic weekend, folks, and keep those smiles on your faces.
Highlight of the day from yesterday's third round of the PGA Championship.
Australian golfer Jason Day hooked his drive on the second hole far to the left, across a creek and into thick weeds on the far side. After a television broadcaster and his caddy waded across and located and identified his ball, Day gamely removed his shoes and socks and rolled his pants up to mid-thigh. He then waded the creek and struggled through the weeds to his ball. Neatly catching a club his caddy tossed to him over the creek, Day then went to work.
He hacked the ball out of the weeds and into the rough on the other side of the fairway. (Second shot) He then waded back across the creek, dried his feet, re-donned his socks and shoes, rolled down his pants and proceeded.
He then struck his ball up onto the green. (Third shot) Next he calmly sank a 12-foot putt for a par four. Probably one of the most unlikely pars this tournament will see.
U.S. warplanes and drones are bombing Islamist jihadists in northern Iraq.
Hamas is once again firing rockets into Israel. Israel is responding with air strikes.
Closer to home . . the Beautiful Rich Daughter has spent the past 24 to 48 hours under the covers, feeling sick, overworked, overstressed.
Our friend, DK, has moved into her new condominium in Phoenix but in the process has discovered one bed frame missing and injured her mouth in a silly accident.
I rose, as usual, about an hour and a half before SWMBO and began heating a teakettle of water for her morning cuppa. Then I forgot about it and she discovered a dry kettle, very hot, with the fire still on under it when she came into the kitchen. My bad.
My big black cat, Blackwell, received fresh water and fresh food this morning and came in and slept on the floor at my feet for an hour. But a few minutes ago he was opening the cupboard door where his food is kept and letting it slam with a loud "THUMP". While he does this when he needs fresh food I think he also does this because he likes the sound.
So for all of us, let's just chill awhile and listen to Schubert's Serenade, beautifully performed on acoustic guitar by Johanna Beisteiner.