BACK TO BACK . . .

While Blackwell and Muggles, and sometimes even Jazz, will share the big king bed there is usually some distance between them.  I guess it was colder today as the distance disappeared this afternoon.

Which brought to mind an old song from my college days.

Herewith:  The Kingston Trio.



THE G.O.P.

That's the Godawful Oblivious Poppycockers.

Self punishers that we are, we watched the umpteenth Republican presidential contendors debate tonight.  Why, oh why, do we do it.  There is lots of other programming on television.  There are "Dog, the Bounty Hunter"; "Miami Ink"; "Dog Whisperer", "Tommy Lee Goes to College" and many other quality programs.

But no, we waste our lives watching a diminishing band of lunatics trying to become the favorite of the Republican party to be destroyed by President Barack Obama.  I mean, who's going to compete with this:

But, anyway, the Final Four went at it again tonight down there in Florida.  Mighty Willard (Willard Mitt Romney - you can look it up) wielded the cudgel tonight over his opponent Leroy (Newton Leroy Gingrich - you can look that one up, too).  Willard, having been duly worked over by Leroy up there in the intellectual hotbed that is South Carolina last week, decided he was going to give that fat little spider a taste of his own medicine.  And so he did, at one time reducing poor Leroy to a near-Rick Perry moment, when he paused for a lengthy time before trying a comeback.  One would have thought that Leroy had been so stunned by the Mormon onslaught that he couldn't think in great ponderous thoughts, as is so often his wont.

Meantime, poor Ricky Santorum (looking for all the world like a Cub Scout) and patient Ron Paul (who appeared simultaneously bored and amused) anchored the ends of this duel in the swamp.  They each got about 10 percent of the time allotted to the other two dingbats.  And that's about what they're worth. 

One has to nearly feel sorry for Santorum, who looks so aggrieved but also shamefaced when he is suddenly called upon to answer one of the rare questions directed his way.

Not so for Ron Paul.  He is always ready to lecture us on his bizarre theories of monetary and Constitutional reform.  As he nearly said tonight, he knows he has no chance of winning the presidential nomination but he loves the attention his out-of-date theories are getting via his continued candidacy.

(By the way, did you hear about his son, Senator Rand Paul?  He set off an alarm at the airport in Nashville today, refused a TSA patdown and was denied permission to fly to Washington.  Seems like the whole family has been smokin' that wacky tobaccy.)

So anyway, tonight Willard (Mitt) got tough with Leroy (Newt).  We'll see how that goes over with the fine Republican voters of Florida, several hundred thousand of which have already voted. 

But in Washington, laughter (and maybe some Al Green music) is resounding from the White House.

AND SPEAKING OF NEWT



AN ANNOUNCEMENT

A VISIT TO OLIVE GARDEN

Some members of our family dined at Olive Garden today.  Here are some of our selections.

 Mussels di Napoli

 Stuffed Chicken Marsala

Lasagna Rollata al Forno

And our very efficient waitress, Lorraine

Now, how do we get rid of all the poundage we gained today??!!

I'M WAKING UP TOO SOON!

Early morning sunrise today.

That's from my front yard.

But it changes fast.  This next one is about a minute later from my back yard.



WOW!

I can't begin to describe my reaction to your reactions to SWMBO's essay yesterday.  It seemed to strike a chord with many of you.  But we had to explain to a few of you that we are not depressed, not necessarily going into a retirement center, certainly way not ready for a nursing home.  Her essay was meant to be a light-hearted retelling of some history in our family.  So, lighten up, people, and laugh a little.

Be that as it may, let me speak for Judith Taylor (ah, hah, at last her real name revealed).  I've told her she should do this but she doesn't think it's necessary.  So I'll do it.

Thank you.  Thank you for your comments and for your own stories.  We both wish you all well and we are very grateful for the many compliments to her writing.  I've been telling her for years that she is good.  Maybe now, just a little bit more, she knows it.

'Course she'd never admit it.

I'll try to get her to log in here again someday and offer some more of her unique style.  'Til then, I say again, thanks!

A GUEST BLOGGER

I have been asked for space for a guest blogger today.  She is my beloved SWMBO.  She Who Must Be Obeyed, for those of you who don't know.

- - -

A Suitable Dungeon

     More than thirty years ago I found myself in the terrible position of deciding my mother's future.  She had had a couple of "minor" strokes and my father had recently passed away.

   It wasn't safe any longer for her to live alone in their retirement house in Florida.  She left stove burners on and forgot them.  She stumbled frequently and almost fell.

   I was summoned from across the country to "come and help me deal with Mother."  My sister had moved near our parents when they retired to Florida.  But she was still working and "the mother situation" had become critical.  It was obvious that we had to deal with the problem quickly and I was required to be there.

   We started looking at potential "retirement centers" . . really nursing homes.  Upon returning to her house the first day we found Mother sitting on the edge of her bed.  She looked up and gave us an evil look and said, "Well, did you find a suitable dungeon for me today?"

   We were spent from the mental and physical effort of the day.  Both of us plopped on the bed beside our mother and one of us said,  "No, not today, Mother," and we laughed rather hysterically.  Mother looked at both of us and couldn't see the humor in the situation.

   The next day we heard of a brand new retirement center that was opening in three weeks.  We took the tour and instantly decided it was perfect.

   Mother had been a gardener and bird watcher all her life.  We told her of the beautiful gardens all around the place.  She inquired as to whether she could take her bird bath with her and put it in one of the gardens.  We said we would see if that could happen.

   We scheduled a visit for the three of us to do a walk-through of a possible apartment for Mother.  It was on the third floor.  She liked the sparkling newness of it all and that she could take her own furniture and personal things.  We walked out on her private balcony and looked around.  One of us mentioned that the bird bath would like nice down below in the garden.

   Mother looked around for a minute and said, "That bird bath would be so far away I wouldn't know if they were drinking or shitting!"  Then she stomped away.  My sister and I looked at each other and knew we had work to do.

   Over the next few days we lobbied for the place by pointing out the amenities.  "You can have your own little refrigerator and microwave and coffee maker.  You won't have to cook major meals.  They will be served to you in the dining room."

   "I won't know any of those people," she snarled.

   "But you can get to know them."

   "Why should I?  None of my friends will know where I have gone.  Nobody will ever visit me." 

   She had really been a loner, almost anti-social and suddenly she worried that the few friends she had would never visit her.  She worried that no one would speak to her at the dinner table.  It was rather ridiculous that one of the best-read, most informed persons in the area was worried that there would be nothing in common with these people.

   But slowly she started to look semi-kindly on the new place.  It was very different from anything she'd ever known.  The move proceeded.

   There was a terrible wrangle over her learning to use an electric coffee maker rather than perking her coffee on the stove.  "I know good coffee and I know bad coffee and this stuff is bad."

   One morning as we sipped our "bad coffee" in the new living room a movement outside the picture window attracted my attention.  A giant Blue Heron was leaning down to drink from the bird bath in the front yard.  He was so casual about it.  My heart was pounding as I whispered to my mother, "Look, oh look at that!"

   She said, "Oh yes, he stops by a few mornings a week for a drink."

   Mother adjusted quickly and was quite satisified with her new home for the rest of her time.

 - - -

   My daughter and I have lunch together often on Fridays.  Last week she handed me a brochure for a new retirement center in town that is holding an open house for the public in a week or two.  She asked if I'd be interested in going and looking it over.  I said I'd like that. 

   When I came home and handed the brochure to my husband, he asked "Has she found a suitable dungeon for us?"

--by Judith Taylor

BLACK AND WHITE

No mail today.  The bank was closed this morning.  Must be some kind of holiday. 

Here's a picture I took of a house through the trees back in the 1960's.  I've become a better photographer since then.

The best speaker I ever heard in person was Martin Luther King Jr.  It was some time around when this picture was taken.  Within a year or so.  I was attending a convention of the Radio and Television News Directors' Association in Chicago.  The luncheon speaker was the former President of the United States, Dwight D. Eisenhower.  He wasn't very good.  Stumbled through his speech poorly.

After a break Dr. King was introduced.  I think I was sitting in a front row, just a few feet from him.  After first apologizing because he had forgotten his notes back in his hotel he then spoke, sans notes, for 30 to 45 minutes.  No "ums", no "ahs", no hesitation.  Just a truly gifted speaker and a great speech.

We miss him today.

Another visitor

It's been in the lower 50's today but the wind has been blowing all day and it's overcast and it just looks cold out there.  Which may have prompted a visit from a local denizen.

He did turn around when I tapped on the glass but I was shooting through a screen and the picture didn't come out well enough to show you.  Suffice it to say he has beautiful amber eyes.

WATSON LAKE

I took this picture at the Watson Lake overlook recently.  But I'm darned if I can think of anything to say about it.  So.  It's all yours.

Weather

I can't remember where it came from but when I was a kid in North Dakota there was a jingle I used to hear on the radio:

 "Whether it's cold

   or whether it's hot,

   we're gonna have weather,

   whether or not."

The weather here today is pretty decent.  Temperature in the 50's, sun shining, blue skies.  Not bad for a winter day in January.



But other spots in the country aren't so nice.  My buddy, Tom, of Light Breezes, and his friend Mike left their homes in the sun in Central California yesterday morning.  Their flight out of San Luis Obispo was delayed because of fog.  When they got to Phoenix they had missed their connecting flight and spent nearly 12 hours sitting around the airport.  Finally they boarded another jet and landed in Indianapolis at 1 o'clock in the morning.  As Tom reports on his blog, roads were snow and ice covered.  Today's high temperature there was supposed to be about 19 degrees as the snow continued to fall.

So, Tom, wise old peripatetic pal, here's something to remind you of how it is back home.

(Just to rub it in, I swiped a photo Tom took and posted on his web site just a week ago!)

REPUBLICAN DOGS

I've been thinkin'.  My dad used to say that.  When he did, SWMBO'S eyes would roll because she knew something weird was about to come out of his mouth.  So.  I'm his son.  And . . I've been thinkin'.

I am constantly amazed at the things that come out of Weird Old Ron Paul's mouth and the ideas that come out of his head.  Tonight, SWMBO and I came up with it.  Crazy Ross Perot.  They're both from Texas.  Their names have the same initials.  And their ideas are equally bull-goose-looney.  Weird Old Ron Paul sounds like a reincarnation of another guy who never could get elected president - William Jennings Bryan.  Except Weird Old Ron Paul supports returning us to the Gold Standard and Bryan wanted us to live on Free Silver.

Now then, let's get to the subject of dogs.  As you regular readers know, I'm a cat man.  But I have observed dogs and I believe I know them as well as the next man.  So . . hypothetically . . whereas Crazy Ross Perot most resembles a miniature Dachsund . . yap, yap, yap . . Weird Old Ron Paul is more like a Doberman Pinscher.  I mean let's face it . . he is about 6 foot 13, isn't he?  But compare the voices of Weird Old Ron Paul and Crazy Ross Perot.  Pretty similar, aren't they.  Yap, yap, yap.

Now to the rest of the field, if we can even honor them that way.  Jon Huntsman, the elegant but hopeless moderate in the race: a Weimaraner.  Grey as the ghost he shall soon be.

Newt Gingrich - (the fat little spider) - is either a Welsh Terrier or an English Bulldog.  Barking away, running in circles, but hopelessly hopeless.  Nasty little creature.

Rick Santorum - a Bloodhound.  Nose to the trail, trudging along, but his eyes give away his hopes.  Which are none.

Rick Perry - Oh, we do love to make fun of this Son of the Alamo, don't we?  I think he's a Boxer, throwing punches right and left but not hitting anything.  A loud bark but not much bite.  After all, he's confused about what he's supposed to be doing, in spite of his proud appearance.

And then there's Mitt Romney, the leader, the eventual nominee, the sacrificial lamb.  With his pedigree he can be nothing less than the Borzoi.  Beautiful to look at but not much else.  He will succeed in winning the nomination of a party that will be singing . . "the party's over."

Arf.  Bow wow. Grrr.  Snarl.  Goodbye G.O.P. hounds of hell.

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

Every once in awhile I start thinking about days gone by.  My pal, Tom Cochrun who writes the blog Light Breezes and I worked together for a few years back in the late 60's/early 70's.  Here's how Tom looked when I first met him at WIBC Radio in Indianapolis.

Sort of looks like a Latin salsa musician, doesn't he?

Okay, just to make it up to him, here's how I looked in the previous year.

This was taken in Miami Beach at the 1968 Republican National Convention.  I don't remember who the guy on the left was but he has a look on his face as if he's thinking "Oh, god, here I am covering an important political convention and I have my picture taken with this bozo in a Nehru jacket!"

Well, Tom and I covered a lot of politics in our days in broadcasting.  But this year's Republican primaries so far make me just a bit envious of the Chuck Todd's and the Jake Tapper's of today's news circus.  Seems to me like they're having way too much fun.  But then I remember the hours spent every day, the lack of sleep, the occasional hangovers, the lousy food, and I'm glad all I have to do is read about it in the newspapers and watch it on t.v. 

NEW HAMPSHIRE SPEAKS

Mitt Romney was declared the winner of the New Hampshire primary as soon as the polls closed tonight.  As I'm writing this, there are less than 20 percent of the votes counted but Romney has 35.5 percent.  His next closest opponent, Ron Paul this time, has less than 25%.  Jon Huntsman, who staked his campaign on New Hampshire, is third with 17 percent.  Newt Gingrich is fourth right now but Rick Santorum is gaining and is breathing down the giant spider's neck.  But Rick Perry.  Rick Perry!  Will he go back to Texas this time and stay there?  He has less than 1 percent of the vote.  This photo reminds me of Perry's chances of winning the nomination.  Dead on the ground.

Perry is barely ahead of Buddy Roemer, a former Louisiana governor you may have heard about.  Or maybe not.

And Michele Bachman and Herman Cain . . both of whom have pulled out of the race . . . are still getting votes.

By the way, Mitt is giving his victory speech and spouting lies about Barack Obama.  He's on his way.  To defeat.  And back to the private sector to gain joy by firing more American workers.

DEATH

I have had two acquaintances die in the past week from suicides.  They lived far apart and did not know each other.  Phil Donahue is quoted as saying "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."  In the first incident, the problem . . one of health . . did not seem to be a temporary problem.  In the second I just don't know.  The reason seems unclear.  Friends of both of the individuals all said the same things: the victim was the last person in the world one would have thought of killing themself.

I think many, many people are like the classic description of a duck: serene on the surface but paddling like hell underneath.  Too many people seem to keep their troubles to themselves until they feel they just can't deal with them any more.  And so they take the final step.

It is not for we survivors to judge them.  We are left with trying to understand the victims and their motives.  It is a difficult and nearly insurmountable task.

WHO WOULD HAVE BELIEVED IT?

The Denver Broncos beat the Pittsburgh Steelers in overtime this afternoon.  On their first play, Tim Tebow passed for a touchdown and the game was over.  I called my friend in Denver and said "I'm now a believer."  But . . . the Broncos will have to face the New England Patriots next Saturday.  Will it be Tebow Time once again?  As was proved today . . miracles can happen.

Very cool and windy today.  I spent my 6 minutes in the sunshine as I try to improve my facial color but otherwise it felt cold outside and I stayed inside.

60 Minutes tonight - stem cells for sale by a con man.  Terrible.  Twins going to war - equally horrible.  Truffles - how can any one pay that price, even if they're not fakes from China.

And so it goes.

SUMMERTIME - WINTERTIME - WHICH IS IT?

It is a beautiful day in Arizona on this January 7th.  I was just out back filling the bird bath, taking in a bit of the sun and truly enjoying the day.  But then it's a beautiful day nearly everywhere in the U.S. today.  So much so that the nightly news anchors are making the unusual January weather their lead story.  They just can't get over it and they can't stop talking about it.  "Is it global warming?", they seem to be asking, "or el Nino?"  Whatever it is everyone seems to be enjoying it.  60 degrees in Chicago . . enough for convertible cruising . . and even in Fargo and Bismarck and Minot in the normally frozen north of North Dakota . . my old home.  People are jogging in t-shirts and shorts in New York City.  Last year at this time traffic there wasn't moving as a huge snowstorm blanketed the city.

I had a comment from a blogger friend down in Oz (Australia) this week noting that it was summer down there and the citizens were preparing to roast through another hot summer.  Well, Meggie, maybe you should come up to this side of the equator where folks are enjoying a warm, balmy winter.

By the way, some of you may have tried to reach Oddball Observations last night only to be told the blog had been removed.  And for several hours it was.  I still have had no explanation but early in the evening, as I was trying to send an email to a friend, my Google account was suddenly suspended.  OO disappeared, as did my Gmail program.  I was forced to rely on a long dormant Yahoo account to send and receive mail.  It was pretty depressing when I turned out the lights but sometime early in the morning, Google responded to my pleas.  My pal Tom sent me an email at 1:30 in the morning saying he had just accessed Oddball again and allowed that apparently the overlords at Google had allowed me back on the grid.  So here I am, not as I feared forced to rebuild everything from scratch on some other platform.  Just the same as before, writing somewhat tepid blog posts.  Glad to be back.

Now, let's kick it up a notch.



OH THOSE ZANY MAYANS!

(Cartoon credit: Bizarro by Dan Piraro)

MY HEAD IS SPINNING

Tuesday night the Iowa Republican caucuses were held.  Michele Bachman visited all 99 counties so people could get to know her better.  Apparently they did.  She finished in a far distant sixth place but exhultantly told a small crowd of supporters that she was marching on all the way to the presidency.

Then she went to bed and perhaps had a chat with folks who said her campaign was broke and her hopes had been nullified.  The next day she pulled out with a speech in which she pronounced "poignant" just like it's spelled.

The Texas Tornado, Governor Rick Perry, after a lowly 5th place finish, said he was going home to Texas to "reassess my campaign".  That translates into: "write my concession speech."

But, out on a jog the next morning, he heard a voice from above (or perhaps a commercial on the radio of a passing car) that said "But wait!  There's more!"  Soon he announced that he was going on to make a fool of himself in two more debates in New Hampshire and continue his campaign in South Carolina.

Was it that last drink I had last night or is something else making me feel dizzy?

Stay tuned, gentle readers.  If you think it's been nuts so far, just wait until Newt gets wound up.  Oh.  He is?

SO LONG, IOWA

Finally.  Sure, it's only January 4th but it seems like forever.  The Iowa Republican caucuses are finally over.
 

The big winner (by 8 votes out of over 100,000 cast) was Mitt Romney.  Rick Santorum followed close behind.  Loopy Ron Paul finished in third.  Nasty Newt Gingrich slumped from first place in the polls two weeks ago to a distant fourth in the final vote.  Rick Perry, confused as ever, finished fifth and said he was going home to Texas to (lick his wounds) reassess his campaign.  Folks, that means he's dropping out.  And dead last was the miracle worker, Michelle Bachman.  Last night she was full of spunk, saying she was headed for South Carolina.  Then she canceled her flight and this morning, less than 12 hours later, she announced she'd had enough.

By the way, in the drawing above, I make the candidates to be, from left to right, Romney, Gingrich, Perry, Bachman, Paul and Santorum.  Your views may vary.

So it's on to New Hampshire.  The very angry Gingrich got out of Iowa on a chartered flight before midnight and arrived in the first primary state in the dark of night, scuttling off the plane like a venomous spider.

So, let's see.  What are we left with?  Five candidates.  Probably four after Perry's expected departure speech.  Plus Jon Huntsman, who's been lurking in New Hampshire, ready for the big show to descend.  And in Iowa?  Must be a feeling of disappointment to Republicans who saw their much vaunted caucuses end up in a virtual tie.  Kind of like a lot of (c'mon, you had to know this was coming) rotten corn.



SORRY

After hassling Tom (Light Breezes) about his missing a day of blog posting yesterday, here I am late in the day with nothing to show.  Well, I've been running around today doing errands and the rest of the time being fascinated by the Iowa Republican primary.  It's nearly over now.  By which I mean it's nearly time for the caucuses to start and we should (according to Rachel Madow) start seeing results soon after that.  So.  No big post today.  Nothing to report.  Don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow and maybe even later tonight.

DINING . . . IN

In keeping with our tradition of dining deliciously but simply on New Year's Eve, SWMBO and I shared a simple salad . . .

fried oysters, sugar peas . . .

naan (Indian flatbread) . . . (not shown) . . . champagne . . .and the BRD's persimmon pudding and ice cream for dessert.

It was all scrumptious.  I think it was lights out before 11 but after watching the ball drop in New York City.

Today's first breakfast of the new year will center on SWMBO's caramel pecan cinnamon rolls, which were made yesterday.  Take a look . . . and eat your hearts out!

Later today, I'll roast some pork ribs and sweet potatoes.  And tomorrow, we shall endeavor to begin shedding some of the holiday pounds we've undoubtedly added.

COULD BE THE START OF SOMETHING NEW

It is a beautiful day in Arizona.  The sun is shining.  The temperature is in the 60's.  No snow anywhere.  Darn near perfect.  As I was out running some last minute errands this morning, I spotted a scene in a parking lot that simply shouted BLOG POST at me.  So I approached the two individuals pictured below and asked them if I could photograph them.  They agreed after I told them I'd shoot them from the back so they couldn't be identified.  Here's the result.

The young gal out walking her two dogs.  The guy riding his bike.  They met in a parking lot.  It just spells 21st Century Dating to me.

By the way after I took the photograph, I told them I had a blog and asked if they'd mind if I put the photo on it so they could be seen all over the world.

I think the gal said "what's a blog?"  The guy asked me what it was called and when I told him, he laughed once again.  They both said it was okay so here they are.

As I said to them as I drove away I say now to you: Happy New Year.

NEARING THE END (of the year, silly)

Well, here we are once again, nearing the end of a year.  But before we wind 2011 up, you have to take a look at an amazing Christmas card from some friends of sweet Lucy.  I think I know how it's done but this one is just amazing.  Just clink on that link and take a look.  I'll wait right here.

(dum-dum-da-diddle-dee-dee)

Oh!  You're back.  Now wasn't that art work absolutely fascinating?  It must have taken forever to create.

As for me and the year just over, I found this ecard from Some ecards just perfect.

Happy New Years Eve Eve, everybody!

RETIREMENT

I was at a loss for anything to blog about today until I read the post of a friend who shall remain nameless.  He said his work was so slow this week it was like being retired and he was bored, bored, bored.  So I decided to take a look at how I spend my day.

This morning I rose about 8, went into the kitchen and started heating water for SWMBO'S tea, microwaved a cup of coffee, emptied the cats' water dish and refilled it, added cat food to the two food dishes, and got out our morning pills.  Then I went back to my bedroom, got my glasses and came back to the kitchen to change the picture on our daily calendar.  (Of course, it's a cat calendar.)  By the time all that was done, it was 8:30.  I went to the computer, checked a couple of emails, then read through Mike Allen's morning rundown from Politico.  Then looked through the headlines from the New York Times.  Then I went to Facebook and looked at a few new postings.  Then to my local newspaper to read the stories that interested me.  Checked the obituaries.  I wasn't listed.  A good day.

So by now it's around 10:30 and I decided to watch a movie from Netflix.  But first I had to take the disk of "Midnight in Paris" out to the mailbox.  (I liked it but thought it wasn't as good as Woody Allen's earlier movies in the Annie Hall era.  SWMBO didn't like it at all.)  Then the new movie.  "Water for Elephants".  We had both read the book and SWMBO watched the movie yesterday.  It's a 2 hour movie but with a couple of bathroom breaks, another cup of coffee and a couple of butterflake rolls, it was around 1 o'clock by the time I finished.  We both loved the book and the movie.

Got dressed and told SWMBO I was going to run the disk down to the mailbox a mile or so away.  They don't pick up mail there until 4 p.m.  She said "I don't suppose you'd like to pick up a sandwich at Maya's?"  I said "sure" so I called in our order and then set out for the mailbox.  Maya's (a Mexican restaurant) is right across the street and the food was ready.  Picked up a carnitas torta for SWMBO and a shredded beef burro for me.  Which we ate as soon as I got home.  Actually I ate half of mine and wrapped up the rest for supper.  SWMBO was hungrier and finished hers.

Back to the computer to read some blog posts and look at the latest polling on the Republican primary out of Iowa.  Right now it looks like Romney, Paul and Santorum finishing 1-2-3.  Gingrich looks like he's slipped to 4th.  Romney and Paul are putting on a full court press this final weekend.  Santorum has been here so long he's practically a resident.

O.K.  Time to clean up the cat pan area.  Took one pan out back and hosed it out and left it to soak in the sun with some baking soda.  Came back inside and just about finished the Sunday New York Times.  Retrieved the cat pan after drying it in the sun and refilled it with litter.  I also have the Florida State-Notre Dame football game on.  Decided to take a shower and did.

Then I decided to write this blog post.  It's now nearly 5 o'clock.  I still have a couple of sections of the Times to finish and I've got one library book on my new Kindle Fire and one book from the local library and my time is running out.

There's nothing unusual about today.  It's about normal.

Am I bored?  I haven't had time to consider it.

DAKUWAQA'S GARDEN

The BRD sent this video to me this morning and I liked it so much I thought I'd share it with you.



BRUSSELS SPROUTS

Can you really tell me these don't look good?

I may be one of the rare ones.  I like Brussels sprouts and I like broccoli.  But I know many people, primarily but not totally men, who claim to hate both of them.

SWMBO roasted some Brussels sprouts last night to go with our Christmas ham and sweet potatoes.  She said she was going to go with a recipe she saw Gordon Ramsey prepare on television.  Simple: salt, pepper and olive oil.  They were delicious though maybe a bit firm.

I looked for recipes for them on the Web this morning and found many variations, some of them Ramsey's.  Pancetta or smoky bacon, chestnuts, balsamic vinegar, lemon, Parmesan cheese . . . all of them can be used to kick the sprouts up a notch, as another television chef says.  One chef says to start them cut side down in a very hot black iron skillet, then put it under the broiler for a few minutes.  She said the extreme heat is the way to successfully roast them.

Wikipedia also says Brussels sprouts are reputed to have anti-cancer properties but that these virtually disappear if one boils the sprouts.  That fits with SWMBO's mother's advice about cooking vegetables of all kinds: if you boil them, most of the vitamins disappear when you drain them.

In a television appearance on the Regis Philbin show a few years ago Ramsey prepared Brussels sprouts.  Philbin commented "I don't like Brussels sprouts."

Ramsey responded, "But you haven't tasted them yet.  How can you say that?  At least give me a chance to let you taste something different."

Later, the show's co-host Kelly Ripa told Ramsey "this is the longest I've heard you go without using the F-word."

Let it be established right here that the SWMBO prepared the entire dinner, including the Brussels sprouts, last night without using the F-word either.  I think.

One point of clarification.  The photo above came from the Web.  I was too busy eating to snap a picture of SWMBO's sprouts.

CHRISTMAS EVE AT THE BRD'S

" 'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse . . ."

Lilly had taken a liking to the newest thing lying around: my blazer!

The Santas were in readiness.

The candles were lit.

The table was filling with lobster and steak  (and potatoes and asparagus and copious quantities of wine!)

In the center of the table, a pretty Christmas bow.

And at one end was another - the BRD's Beau Jack!

Paying careful attention - the famous SWMBO.

When up on the roof there arose such a clatter, it woke up Miss Lilly to see what was the matter.

Santa Claus came and left us with gifts.  When they all had been opened and wrapping discarded, Mister T. settled down, curled up in the midst.

And here is the hostess, dancing with glee.  She shouted out merrily "You can credit . . . . . well, me!

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

COLOR IN THE SKY

Mingus Mountain was decorated for Christmas the other evening as the setting sun put some color in the low clouds.