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.
A trainer (not mine) based at my friendly little gym is on vacation this week. Instead of sending emails to keep his clients on track, he left each of their prescribed routines on a blackboard: Mon, Weds, Fri.
While I often watch what other trainers put their clients through, it was interesting to see the lists because they were so individualized based on conditioning, goals, etc. Plus it was public, so that's a good incentive for those clients.
Ideally, we can all train ourselves but that doesn't happen with most people.
At Gay’s Harvard, if your speech supports the conservative position, the thinnest allegation against you can destroy your career. If you support the woke narrative, even the most explosive allegations against you can be buried.
I think Patrick O'Brian's The Ionian Mission might be the best of his historical fiction series. While Stephen is on a spying mission in Spain, here's Jack with his violin with something baroque:
Now when the fiddle sang at all it sang alone: but since Stephen's departure he had rarely been in a mood for music and in any case the partita he was now engaged upon, one of the manuscripts he had bought in London, grew more and more strange the deeper he went into it. The opening movements were full of technical difficulties and he doubted he would ever be able to do them anything like justice, but it was the great chaconne which followed that really dsturbed him. On the face of it, the statements made in the beginning were clear enough; their closely-argued variations, though complex, could certainly followed with full acceptation, and they were not particularly hard to play; yet, at one point, after a curiously insistent repetition of the second point, the rhythm changed and with it the whole logic of the discourse. There was something dangerous about what followed, something not unlike the edge of madness or at least of a nightmare; and although Jack recognized that the whole sonata and particularly the chaconne was a most impressive composition he felt that if he were to go on playing it with all his heart it might lead him to very strange regions indeed...
A daughter and her husband stopped by yesterday afternoon, while party-hopping. She inspired Mrs. BD to decorate the tree and all that. It's no fun without some youth around and The Little Dublin Singers on ye olde recorde player.
I told them about a friend I had in college from an evangelical family. His family did no secular Christmas - no tree, no presents, no decorations, no feasting, no carols, no Christmas cards. It reminded me of the early days of the Massachusetts Bay Colony where you could be arrested for baking a pie at Christmastime. The police were alert to the smell of mincemeat pie. All viewed as pagan, which is sorta right I guess.
I think my friend's family did have church on Christmas morning. When I was a kid, Christmas church was Christmas morning too. No presents until after church.
Mrs. BD gave me my early Christmas present. An iPad with a magic keyboard and all bells and whistles. Maybe I "need" it, but it's one more thing when I want fewer...goin mobile, I guess. I like stinky French cheese for Christmas, good wine, and caviar.
This year, one of my kids with fiancee will be in Cyprus, one in London, and we'll visit the grandkids and my in-laws on Christmas day. Sheesh. Not like the olden days with excited kids all around.
3:8 But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.
3:9 The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.
3:10 But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and everything that is done on it will be disclosed.
3:11 Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness,
3:12 waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set ablaze and dissolved, and the elements will melt with fire?
3:13 But, in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.
3:14 Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish;
3:15a and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation. So also our beloved brother Paul wrote to you according to the wisdom given him.
I heard one hooting outside my open bedroom window last night at 4 am. Woke me up. After 20 minutes, another one joined in the conversation. A mate. They will lay their eggs soon, in winter.
Remarkable large birds, top predators, and adaptable to almost every habitat from urban parks to deserts. They are found everywhere in the US, Canada, Central America, and in parts of South America.
They will eat anything that moves: house cats, snakes, skunks, rats, porcupines, mice, fish, muskrats, possums, crows, gulls, ducks, even smaller owls - but their favorite food seems to be rabbits.
I rarely see them, but I hear them regularly. They are non-migratory and early maters and nesters, laying eggs in January snowstorms.
It's taken decades for me to realize my time limits on absorbing/processing/tolerating certain things. In this case, I mean artsy things like museum shows, dance performances, music performances, theater, and the like. After an hour, my brain needs a break. Maybe it's a flaw and I have my share.
Yeah, I get a kick out of all such things - including architecture.
OK, last weekend we went to the Picasso show at the MOMA. Wonderful. An easy and interesting one hour. This weekend in NY we checked out the Met Museum's Manet and Degas show on Saturday. Too much, too many masterpieces I've seen in books, and it would have taken 2 hours to get through it with good attention and my natural interest. Yes, it's a very popular show.
And yesterday a 2+ hour Baroque concert at Lincoln Center (Alice Tully Hall). Mind you, Mrs. BD is far more advanced in music and dance than I am, but by intermission she seemed to be fading due to music overdose. (Opera and dance never have that effect on her.)
Here's my point of view: Re visual arts, these were made to decorate churches or, in recent centuries, wealthy homes. You checked out one or two at a time. Nice pictures, but not lined up in museums for the masses. Fun. Re music, it's different because there's all sorts. Pop music with lots of rhythm and repetition is easy but more ambitious music - masses, or symphonies, or long concertos - were not mostly written for 2+-hour performances (except opera). However best in world The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center is, after a while you get music-museum brain. Or I do.
Another thing that bugs me about museum art and what I call "museum performances": the reverential attitude. Sure, cool things are precious but if you feel you can't cough it is silliness. Things are made mainly for entertainment and sales. Much as I admire, envy, and respect musicians and musical composers, they would let me cough or make a snarky comment to my wife. It's not church.
I liked this casual painting in the Manet/Degas show: Manet's painting of the Monet family on vacation. The kid looks bored. I do have a spot in my house for that pretty picture, but it's not for sale:
Readers may recall for no reason that I like my Alfa. Not flashy, but zippy, with a happy real rumble, and it's never had any problem. But needed a new battery, cuz with temps below 30 F it won't start so I brought it to the dealer yesterday, and they offered me a ride back home which I accepted.
OK, you can't just pick up a new 12 V battery and pop it in yourself anymore. On a small boat you can, but not on these computer cars.
Car is off warrantee, or I think so. Picked it up this morning. New battery installed and calibrated, car washed inside and out, washer fluid refilled, tires filled up. "No charge, thanks for coming."
Sheesh, this fairly-recent Bob song feels real to me. Not sure why, but it's kinda dark like me. He has the gift. "All the world I would defy..." I get that.
Ft Collins CO Has the 
A daughter and her husband stopped by yesterday afternoon, while party-hopping. She inspired Mrs. BD to decorate the tree and all that. It's no fun without some youth around and The Little Dublin Singers on ye olde recorde player. 
Parenting In The '80
I heard one hooting outside my open bedroom window last night at 4 am. Woke me up. After 20 minutes, another one joined in the conversation. A mate. They will lay their eggs soon, in winter.