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.
She wanted - no, needed - to visit the active monastery of Senanque - with better photos than I can do. Cistertians - they will not speak and otherwise live by Benedictine rules. Nowadays, the monks raise lavender and make honey. Oh yeah, also, they have a gift shop and charge for admission. The core of the abbey was built in the 1100s.
Their lavender fields had already been harvested. Besides olives and grapes, lavender is a big deal in Provence. There is even lavender ice cream.
Since it was a hiking trip, we had to go the long way over the Petit Massif, up to the wild west-looking plateau, and down to another valley. Then back to our place over the mountain again. 6 hour hike, spre quads for sure. The hiking paths were rated as "mostly gentle", but it's a Brit company. In the US, they would be rated moderate at least. Mostly stoney paths, easy to get lost, and every one uphill. Will post hiking pics later.
Here's their cloister. Lucky John D. Rockefeller didn't buy it and ship it to NYC:
We spent a day in Aix before heading to the Marseilles airport, attempting to fly to Paris for our JFK flight. All planes were late, so a not-fun snafu. Anyway, on Saturday afternoon I was having a beer or two sitting in the hotel's garden (Hotel Le Pigonnet - lovely, formal old-worldy hotel just a 25-min walk to downtown) while Mrs. BD strolled the splendid formal gardens with her usual Ginger Beer when she ran over to me with urgency. "You have to see this!"
OK. So, in an obscure corner of the lovely garden was a sign, and the view below. Sign said (in French) "From this spot in our garden, Paul Cezanne painted many of his hundred paintings of Mt. St. Victoire in varying lights and times of day." Sheesh. He lived in Aix, and the French at the time reviled his pictures. Readers know that he is my hero of "modern" fine art. A thrill.
A small view of the hotel garden
The view from the garden's pergola where Cezanne liked to paint:
18:9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:
18:10 "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
18:11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
18:12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'
18:13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'
18:14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."
Readers know that my idea of a healthy breakfast is two coffees and sometimes a little nicotine. For adults, the idea that "breakfast is the most important meal of the day" was debunked long ago. Growing kids, of course, need food all the time including protein at breakfast.
If you do heavy labor all day, it's another matter. All I do is to work out at the gym for an hour or so every morning, and some yard work on weekends (as little as possible because I have become bored with it), and take good walks on weekends. That is sedentary.
Sometimes, though, there are occasions for a hearty breakfast.
I have always liked kippers with some eggs. In Scotland, the kippers are about a foot long. Too much. The canned kippers that you find in US supermarkets are barely OK.
Another breakfast that some hate but I love: Creamed Chipped Beef on Toast (aka shit on a shingle). A classic prep school, and military, breakfast.
And the ultimate American breakfast (South and Midwest especially): Biscuits and Gravy. Every family has its own recipe, so I won't link one. Those Bob Evans restaurants make a fine one, but I don't think they let you in unless you weigh over 250 pounds. Grits on the side are good.
To stay multicultural, I can't omit the English Breakfast. Blood sausage:
Gone hiking trip in cool places, and a good getaway from reporting the daily news insanity. No internet, no phone access. Will bring home iphone pics tho. There will be lots of boating posts for those who enjoy them. I'd rather watch the Youtube than sail alone to Hawaii in a 30-ft sailboat. Plus some random items.
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Image: Many of 
Video Footage Captures
Image of optical illusion floor (to deter running) via 
WSJ: 
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