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.
Or as a side with any meaty winter dinner. Whenever Mrs. BD brings this to a party, the bowl is clean.
Very easy, too: Grandma's Corn Pudding As a friend's wife said to me last night at a deep-fried turkey party, "just call it a vegetable and enjoy it." Yum yum.
3:6 Now we command you, beloved, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us.
3:7 For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you,
3:8 and we did not eat anyone's bread without paying for it; but with toil and labor we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you.
3:9 This was not because we do not have that right, but in order to give you an example to imitate.
3:10 For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat.
3:11 For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work.
3:12 Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living.
3:13 Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.
"Cape Cod Turkey" means a codfish dish. Cape Cod friends of mine always make cod for Thanksgiving, figuring that that is most of what the Pilgrims had for dinner.
They make baked stuffed cod, which is a delicious thing as long as you do not overcook the fish. Let's face it - Thanksgiving is about stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, and punkin pie anyway and not so much about the turkey. Well, Mrs. BD makes Butternut Squash pies but it's the same difference.
There is a specific New England dish called Cape Cod Turkey. Cod and potatoes.
Jump rope is part of our routine HIIT exercises. While I have learned the basic moves (singles, running man, jack jumps, split step jumps) I still can not get the hang of double unders and probably never will.
My cardio endurance with jumping is far from where I'd like it to be. That's partly because my technique is not as smooth and efficient as it could be, but part is my high intensity endurance.
I have tried 1 lb ropes several times, for a minute at a time. These things really kick your ass, partly because of the upper body demands.
Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker re-named the state capitol "holiday tree" the "Christmas tree," and the new governor, Tony Evers, renamed it back to "holiday tree"... and declared that it would "celebrate... science."
“But everything that we’ve achieved is under threat from the left-wing ideology that demands absolute conformity, relentless regulation, and a top-down control of the entire U.S. economy. Far left politicians in our nation’s capital want a massive government takeover of health care. They want to give government bureaucrats domination over every aspect of your business and your life. They want to eliminate American oil and natural gas. They want to enlist us in global projects designed to redistribute American wealth and kill American jobs all over our nation.”
Planning an early Spring visit to Georgia's Okefenokee Swamp. A wildlife trip, kind of rustic in the Georgia wilderness. You have to go before bug season. It's way north of the Everglades (also a fine place to visit).
I like Georgia. Not moving there, but a fine place to visit and the southern food is amazing.
My father worked with a horse-plough, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Between the shafts and the furrow. The horses strained at his clicking tongue.
An expert. He would set the wing And fit the bright steel-pointed sock. The sod rolled over without breaking. At the headrig, with a single pluck
Of reins, the sweating team turned round And back into the land. His eye Narrowed and angled at the ground, Mapping the furrow exactly.
I stumbled in his hob-nailed wake, Fell sometimes on the polished sod; Sometimes he rode me on his back Dipping and rising to his plod.
I wanted to grow up and plough, To close one eye, stiffen my arm. All I ever did was follow In his broad shadow round the farm.
I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Yapping always. But today It is my father who keeps stumbling Behind me, and will not go away.
In the beginning, I never thought that with all his warts and his tweets and all his rants and ravings that the broken human named Donald Trump could be God’s chosen instrument to try and mend this broken kingdom, but there he sits astride the world like some Strange Colossus.
Then again God chose the shattered Saul in order to get to that young unknown musician, David.
This feels like it comes from some supernatural place:
Mrs. BD and her friends say the Citymapper app for NYC transportation is amazing. It tells you quickest routes, when the next bus or train is coming, and speaks to you too.