We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Finally, back to church normally. It felt like coming home. Yes, packed to the current max allowed. No coffee hour yet, but the hugs in the aisles were, as it were, not COVID-phobic.
2/3rds of my kids got to their churches today too.
10 Jesus called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out impure spirits and to heal every disease and sickness.
2 These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon (who is called Peter) and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3 Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4 Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.
5 These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. 6 Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. 7 As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ 8 Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy,[a] drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.
9 “Do not get any gold or silver or copper to take with you in your belts— 10 no bag for the journey or extra shirt or sandals or a staff, for the worker is worth his keep. 11 Whatever town or village you enter, search there for some worthy person and stay at their house until you leave. 12 As you enter the home, give it your greeting. 13 If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you. 14 If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet. 15 Truly I tell you, it will be more bearable for Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town.
16 “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. 17 Be on your guard; you will be handed over to the local councils and be flogged in the synagogues. 18 On my account you will be brought before governors and kings as witnesses to them and to the Gentiles. 19 But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, 20 for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.
21 “Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. 22 You will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. 23 When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another. Truly I tell you, you will not finish going through the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.
24 “The student is not above the teacher, nor a servant above his master. 25 It is enough for students to be like their teachers, and servants like their masters. If the head of the house has been called Beelzebul, how much more the members of his household!
26 “So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. 27 What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. 28 Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.[b] 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
32 “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. 33 But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.
34 “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. 35 For I have come to turn “‘a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—36, a man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.’
37 “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. 38 Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39 Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.
40 “Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41 Whoever welcomes a prophet as a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person as a righteous person will receive a righteous person’s reward. 42 And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.”
When I grew up, "Italian food" meant various forms of wheat (no egg) pasta with red glop on top, and maybe meatballs or eggplant. That, plus pizza and Italian grinders. Also, Lasagna I guess, made from an American cookbook.
They don't make grinders in Italy, and their pizzas aren't any good in my view. (I gave up on them. American wood-cooked pizzas can be pretty good, though. Crust has to be half-burnt.)
This was because most of the Italian immigrants to America were from a poor southern Italy with Neapolitan food traditions. To tell the truth, I do not care too much for that stuff but I am willing to eat it if I am starving. I do like a good Pasta Fagiole but I can make the best one you have ever had, and I will have a Bolognese on Tagliatelle. Call me a food snob.
Our best Italian meals have been in Umbria, which is where Romans take dining expeditions by the busload - so they can drink and gorge on wild pig, and get a ride home. No good Italian food tastes wonderful without wine. If you're on the wagon, it's not so wonderful unless it includes truffles or Balsamic. They do not use much wine in their cooking because you are supposed to be sipping it as you eat. Wine is expected to be an accompaniment, blending in your mouth.
I had a fine Lasagna in Verona for lunch, in a sidewalk cafe near the Arena. No red sauce, heavy on the nutmeg which makes sense, given the history of being part of the Venetian Empire for a while. One Italian dish I really wanted to try in Italy was Vitello Tonnato - Veal with Tuna Sauce. Mrs. BD makes an excellent version, but somehow we missed it on our last trip. Also wanted to try their Chicken Liver with Balsamic, but missed that too. That's OK - food isn't everything - and we know some great Italian restaurants in NYC.
Written as prose, A Child's Christmas in Wales might as well be verse. It begins thus:
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now, out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen...
The whole piece can be read here but, better yet, you can stream Thomas reading it here. (19 minutes)
Emailed with an "only 82" year-old friend this morning. He had just come back from a 3-mile run in the snow. He said that running with snow falling is exhilarating.
I remember doing that, back before I concluded that road-running was a bad idea. It truly is more fun to run in weather.
So he is 82 and out running, and I am much younger and doing HIIT on a stupid treadmill.
Serious chefs travel with a packet of their personal knives, but the all-purpose knife is the Chef's Knife, aka Cook's Knife. My chef friend only uses Gunter Wilhelm knives, but chefs are cooking all day.
I guess the high-carbon, high-maintenance ones are the best, but whatever. I like the ones with a curved blade so you can rock it when chopping garlic, parsley, etc. Maybe you only need two knives: a bread knife and a chef's knife.
You can sometimes find used high-carbon chef's knives on eBay.
That evil, if true, quote comes from a Quilette post on The Narrative and Its Discontents. Who constructs our realities? Scott Adams likes to talk about how we are all hypnotized, and there is some truth in that. The awareness of that might be the way out of it.
I first heard Rush Limbaugh years ago when I had long commutes. I thought "Who the heck is this guy."
He was articulating, humorously, thoughts and doubts that had been bubbling in me just below the surface. At the time, I was a normal uncritical Liberal thinking the same way I had been since age 17. I would not term it a conversion, but my mind did open to a kind of "critical thinking" that I was not getting from the news. As somebody put it, "awakening from a mindless political slumber."
Fine art museums are a modern idea. Like public parks and public libraries, they are a way to let the masses experience things previously reserved for the wealthy and/or aristocratic or, in the case of religious art, reserved for the members of the parish which bought them.
According to the article below, Manet was the first artist to aspire to have his work placed in a museum. In my view, there are a few of his I'd enjoy as our living room decor but we are out of wall space anyway...
I am ambivalent about art and cultural museums. You get to walk around in a strange reverent hush and look at pictures that you could never afford to hang in your living room.
What is the greatest art museum in the world? By all accounts, NYC's Metropolitan Museum. Lots of other wonderful ones (I've been to most of 'em) around the western world to visit, but the Met's scope and abundance is overarching.
As you know, my limit is one hour just to see a show or a few things I want to look at. Otherwise I get "museum brain". I had some excellent art history classes in high school and college, not to mention books and the good things from Great Courses. Still, a semi-illiterate with Fine Art. I like to look at all of it, cool pictures.
Addendum: Re the Met, I wish they would show a mock-up of the Greek guys - the ones with their penises broken off - with the original Greek paint on them. These were not made as "art". More like Tussaud's or Disney. Wish I knew whether Michelangelo knew that the Greek stuff had been realistically painted.
He has been an inspiration to millions for 32 years. A warm, loving guy who seemed to see through all BS but was, above all, entertaining and (almost always) cheerful and upbeat.
His wife spoke a lovely remembrance of him today on the radio, with gratitude for all of the prayers and love from his listeners.
RIP, Rush, with thanks for all of your work almost until your last breath.
Today, math is challenging for many and so is reading Shakespeare. It's not exactly a different language, but it sort-of is. His plots are not too difficult to suss out and his characters are usually interesting and colorful, but his language is the thing for me.
It is not for kids.
I wonder whether the teachers just want to avoid things that are challenging to deal with.
... we are in unforeseen territory. The women who can least afford to raise a child are the most likely to be single mothers, and the children who stand to benefit the most from stable homes and reliable fathers are the least likely to have them.
Is blue 
Pic is a Northern Italian classic: Veal Tonnato
Written as prose, A Child's Christmas in Wales might as well be verse. It begins thus:
Serious chefs travel with a packet of their personal knives, but the all-purpose knife is the