VIVA BENITO!

 Today is an important holiday in the land of our neighbor to the south.

It is celebrated throughout Mexico on the third Monday in March marking the birthday of Benito Juarez.

In 1858, the Liberal judge became the first indigenous President of Mexico, following a civil war with Conservatives.

Juarez was actually born on March 21st, 1806, which would make him 215 if he were still alive.

But he died of a heart attack in the National Palace in 1872 at the age of 66.

His parents were poor Zapotec peasants in the state of Oaxaca who both died when Juarez was 3.

Shortly after his grandparents also died so young Benito was raised by his uncle.

He walked to the city of Oaxaca when he was 12 to begin his schooling and rapidly rose to prominence.

He is remembered today as a progressive reformer dedicated to democracy and equal rights for the indigenous people.

And he was a friend of the United States of America.

So today raise a glass to Benito Juarez.

D-D-D-D-DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME

 

It was a chilly 27 F. when I rescued myself from the Arms of Morpheus this morning.

And once again there was a dusting of snow.

Especially out in the South Pasture.

ONLY 4 DAYS TO GO

 

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 I'm in Arizona.

It's snowing.

Are you laughing?

Then I'm off to a good start.

Yes, Gentle Readers, it's the end of another week and many of you (Judy and I included) are fully vaccinated, the stimulus bill is passed and signed and checks will soon be in the mail (or however the funds are distributed) and Daylight Savings Time begins this weekend.

Wait a minute, that was supposed to be a good news sentence.

Oh well, it wasn't a bad week and I've got some advice especially for the ladies this morning: how to spend some of that stimulus money.

If you Trekkies and others are groaning right along I know I've done my job.

Now jump joyously but judiciously into a weekend full of juxtapositioned jollifications, maybe enjoy some jabberwocky, jaunty and jolly, without jitteriness or jealousness, and journalize about it in your own jurisdictions.

Oh, and always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Ah, just as I suspected!)

RECOVERED

 

No, we don't look like that anymore but the feeling of glee is nearly as good as a fresh bottle of wine brings.

In short, we apparently have recovered from the second dose of Moderna vaccine with minimal side effects.

After struggling through an upsurge in painful neuropathy and/or arthritis in my feet yesterday I woke at 4:30 this morning feeling great and pain-free.

(I know.

You're thinking 4:30?!

Hey, I'm sorry but I'm older than you and it's usually lights out at around 9 p.m. and up by 6 a.m.)

But to get back to the subject at hand, I show no side effects from the vaccine today and when I asked Judy how she felt and if her arm was still sore she said "no".

So apparently the much-ballyhooed side effects barely touched us, unlike some of you, and we're now fully vaccinated and back to normal.

Well, in a couple of weeks and still wearing our masks and social distancing in public.

Stay well, my friends.

FIRST DAY AFTER

 

I had a lousy night and I don't know whether it's due to the second Covid vaccine I got yesterday or not.

But my neuropathy in my feet (nerve pain) was going wild and it seemed like I was awake most of the night.

This morning I have just the tiniest soreness in the arm that took the abuse.

Judy said hers was pretty sore.

I would say that this isn't bad if that's all the reaction we get.

BUT, a couple of my correspondents have told me their most severe reaction didn't begin until the second day after the shot.

So I'm holding off on a report and keeping my eye on the Tylenol bottle.

To be continued.

SECOND SHOTS

 

Judy and I will get our second shots of the Moderna vaccine for Covid today.

I've been hearing a lot from friends about the side effects they've been having.

As far as I can tell, there is no rhyme or reason for them.

Some people have chills, some have fevers, some people are fatigued and sleep a lot, some have just a slight soreness in their arms and some have no reactions at all.

(I'm counting on being in that last group.)

But mostly the effects seem to last only a few days at the most.

And as one of my correspondents put it, better to be sick for a day or two than to get the virus.

So we will march in like good soldiers and hope for the best.

Judy has a reward for us.

We're going directly from the shot-shooting arena to pick up a take-out dinner from a Chinese restaurant!

A WHOLE LOTTA SKY

 

The day the rain moved on to the East.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 Like a good neighbor, Catalyst is here. 

Just when you'd about given up hope, right?

Well I wouldn't let you down.

It's Friday and I'm determined to erase that scowl on your face and replace it with a big, silly grin.

Let us begin.

There!

I hope I've engineered a bit of distraction from your cares and worries for the end of another week.

I have high hopes that you'll all have a wonderful weekend.

And remember: always keep laughing!

Here kitty-kitty . . .

(oh, no-o-o-o-o-h)

A BEGINNER'S LESSON

 Once again I turn the reins over to my spouse, Judy, aka She Who Must Be Obeyed (SWMBO).

💑 💑 💑 💑 💑 💑

Having recently been ordered by a doctor to go to a gluten-free diet, I needed a new kind of cookie.

I searched the Internet for options and landed on a Martha Stewart recipe for "Oatmeal Cookies".

First you use the blender to pulverize some rolled oats to make oat flour.

Done.

Then you follow very ordinary directions for the rest of the recipe.

"Place two-Tablespoon mounds onto parchment-lined baking sheets."

Now if you think Martha is a kitchen goddess you better not read any further.

In the oven the "mounds" flattened and spread until some of the cookies joined each other on the sheet pan.

They looked like brown lace when finished.

Not at all like Martha's neat little bundles.

After handling these I decided they needed something to hold them together.

"Tomorrow is another day."

So the remaining dough went into the fridge for a rest --- for the baker!

The next morning I massaged 3 Tablespoons of gluten-free flour into the dough, placed the "mounds" onto the pan --- and baked them.

Eureka!

They are still "mounds"!

(Today's cookies on the left, yesterday's on the right)

In the "Cook's Notes" at the bottom of the recipe, Martha says ". . . these cookies are bound to be requested again and again."

I don't think so!

ANNIVERSARY

 Well, of a sort.

Today marks the 13th birthday of this blog.

I had tried blogging twice before but had given up both times.

No evidence exists of those attempts, at least as far as I know.

So Oddball Observations becomes a teenager on this day, March 2nd.

Here's the proof.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

I'm back!

Due to a vast number of (well, okay, a few) requests, I am bringing back Oddball Observations for another run at blogging. This will be the third time and I can only hope it's a charm. The next time I get bored with blogging, I will try my best not to delete my blog. I'll just put up a notice saying I'm "On Hold" until the juices start flowing again.

I think the most interesting thing from those years ago blogs was the commenters, most of whom have disappeared.

As a matter of fact, I think my pal Meggie, from down in Australia, is the only one still with me.

So, thanks Meggie, and let's see what the next act holds.

PLANNED

 

Upon first sighting the smoke, it looks pretty serious.

Especially when you know the Prescott National Forest lies in that direction.

But it turns out the folks managing the forest have planned it all along and actually set the fire.

It's what they call a prescribed burn, to rid the forest of fuel for an un-prescribed burn later on.

So we're not to worry.

Can't help feeling sorry for folks living downwind of all that smoke though.

SPRINGING AHEAD

 The mercury in my thermometer is topping out at about 45 degrees today.

And the wind is blowing, as it usually does here in Prescott Valley.

The first day of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere of the globe is still three weeks away, regardless of what your particular groundhog or weather prognosticator predicts.

But that hasn't stopped the blood from speeding up in SWMBO's veins.

Nor of visions of seedlings dancing through her dreams.

So she recently took delivery of a three- (or four-, depending on how you look at it) shelf garden rack.

She didn't order it from IKEA but it did arrive in a small-ish, flat carton with no instructions included.

But she comes from a family of handymen and general contractors which includes a father, a brother and a son to whom assembly instructions are what one consults when all else fails.

So she launched into it and (with my gentle observation that one of the shelves end supports was upside down) soon had it all lashed together.

There are a few pots of soil awaiting plantings.

We're thinking mostly herbs.

Parsley and basil and thyme and maybe some rosemary and sage and spicy peppers and, of course, the requisite cherry tomatoes in the barrel across the patio.

But in spite of a new law in Arizona allowing personal growing in a limited sense and recreational use of the products thereof, she hasn't mentioned her own private marijuana bush.

Yet.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 First of all let me say that I am overwhelmed by all the comments on yesterday's post.

Thank you, all.

But now it is time to put that aside and get on to the real business of the week: lightening the gloom with a dash of good humor.

So stand back and brace yourselves for this edition of The Friday Funnies!

And there you have it.

Now if it's too early to mow in your neighborhood, use all that spare time to have a wonderful weekend.

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

ThrowBack Thursday

 It was about 1964 and North Dakota's own Lawrence Welk was paying a visit to his ancestral home and a big crowd had come to the Bismarck airport to see him.

Among them were my then-time wife and our two sons.

Welk was moving along a ropeline shaking hands but when he came to my little family he absolutely missed my two year old son, Scott, who then began to cry.

Someone made Welk aware and he returned and hoisted the little boy up to calm him.

A photographer for the local newspaper snapped a picture which he later gave to me.

Move the clock ahead a few years and by then I had divorced, relocated to Indianapolis, and was making a visit back to North Dakota myself.

Here are Scott (with a tooth missing), his brother Troy and I.

By 1971, my ex-wife had re-married and moved to suburban Chicago.

I also had a new mate and we drove up and visited the boys and took them through the Shedd Aquarium before relaxing outside at the shore of Lake Michigan.

Nine years later, I was working in Phoenix but stopped in Washington, D.C. after our news crew covered the Democratic National Convention in New York.

Scott was living in Gaithersburg, Maryland, then and we got together and posed with the U.S. Capitol behind us.

Probably about 1983 Scott flew out to Phoenix and I took him on a tour of some of my favorite spots in Arizona, like Oak Creek Canyon.

That little boy with the missing tooth had grown into a handsome young man.

Living as we did, in two separate families, often thousands of miles apart, we never were close but we always enjoyed each other's company when we did get together.

I last saw him in 2001 when he was helping move the company he then worked for from Los Angeles to Scottsdale.

We got together for dinner shortly before he moved once again to Orlando, Florida.

His mother called on New Year's Day this year.

Scott Alan Taylor died of a heart attack in his sleep at her home in Southern California the previous afternoon.

He was 57.