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 friend tells me that this was James J. Hill's signature dessert.
4 eggs 2 cups milk 1 ½ cups sugar 1 tsp ginger 1 cup molasses ½ tsp cinnamon ½ cup butter melted 1 lb loaf of stale white bread, grated
Preheat oven to 350. Butter 9” x 13” baking dish thoroughly and set aside. In a large mixing bowl, beat eggs until light lemon color. Continue beating and gradually add milk, sugar, ginger, molasses, cinnamon and melted butter. Mix well. Add grated bread and stir until well mixed. Pour mixture into buttered baking dish and place dish in oven. Bake one hour, or until knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Spoon pudding into a serving dish and top with butterscotch sauce.
Butterscotch Sauce
4 tbsp. cornstarch ½ cup cold water 1 tbsp. sugar 2 ½ cups water 1 ¾ cup sugar 1 heaping tsp. powdered cocoa 5 drops vanilla extract 4 tbsp. butter
Dissolve cornstarch in cold water and set aside. In saucepan over medium heat, melt 1 tablespoon of sugar until browned to a golden color. Add water and remaining sugar. Bring to a boil and continue to boil for three minutes. Add cocoa, vanilla extract and butter. Stir to mix and simmer to a glaze. Slowly add cornstarch to boiling liquid and simmer until thickened.
“This country faces a pervasive, growing attitude of intolerance and hate — what I have referred to in the body politic as an American cancer,” Cuomo wrote in his approval message.
Mask mania is driven by the human need to believe that we are “doing something,” along with the more modern need to believe that our government is “doing something.” It is beyond the pale to ask whether there is, in fact, much that any government can do about respiratory viruses.
If reports are semi-correct, do not be surprised if the Maggie's server, and our power, is out tonight and/or tomorrow. Maybe longer. That would not be unusual.
" In short, the nation’s highest ranking military officer said publicly that there is no pathway to military victory in Afghanistan. Yet we’re still there.."
"This exquisitely melancholy and evocative carol, imagining the Nativity in a snowy Northern landscape, was originally written by Christina Rossetti as a Christmas poem for an American magazine, Scribner’s Monthly, in 1872. It was set to music by Gustav Holst for the 1906 edition of The English Hymnal – the poignant and simple tune is known as ‘Cranham’."
Our Christmas Tree is a museum of sentiment. Essentially no store-bought stuff except things we found on our travels that stick on a tree, and all of my small bird ornaments. We have our kids' rattles, things they made in kindergarten, things like that. It's all personal.
The BD genius was to store them all in a living room bureau. 4 steps to take 'em out, 4 steps to throw them back in. No boxes, no wrapping ornaments, no fuss, almost no hassle. Bureau is a lovely 1500s hunk of wood.
If some old things break, it's ok. Nothing material lasts but Christmas lasts. We're planning a few small get-togethers, and we are signed up for Christmas Eve service (outdoors, I think).
When grandkids, will ask them each to pick one ornament to take home for their own tree.
1:1 The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
1:2 As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way;
1:3 the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,'"
1:4 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
1:5 And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
1:6 Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey.
1:7 He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.
1:8 I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."
Democrats misbehaved for four years in trying to delegitimize Donald Trump’s 77,736-vote victory. Trump and many Republicans have been misbehaving for four weeks in trying to delegitimize Joe Biden’s 43,809-vote victory.
It is winter in California, and outside Is like the interior of a florist shop: A chilled and moisture-laden crop Of pink camellias lines the path; and what Rare roses for a banquet or a bride, So multitudinous that they seem a glut!
A line of snails crosses the golf-green lawn From the rosebushes to the ivy bed; An arsenic compound is distributed For them. The gardener will rake up the shells And leave in a corner of the patio The little mound of empty shells, like skulls.
By noon the fog is burnt off by the sun And the world's immensest sky opens a page For the exercise of a future age; Now jet planes draw straight lines, parabolas, And x's, which the wind, before they're done, Erases leisurely or pulls to fuzz.
It is winter in the valley of the vine. The vineyards crucified on stakes suggest War cemeteries, but the fruit is pressed, The redwood vats are brimming in the shed, And on the sidings stand tank cars of wine, For which bright juice a billion grapes have bled.
And skiers from the snow line driving home Descend through almond orchards, olive farms. Fig tree and palm tree - everything that warms The imagination of the wintertime. If the walls were older one would think of Rome: If the land were stonier one would think of Spain.
But this land grows the oldest living things, Trees that were young when Pharoahs ruled the world, Trees whose new leaves are only just unfurled. Beautiful they are not; they oppress the heart With gigantism and with immortal wings; And yet one feels the sumptuousness of this dirt.
It is raining in California, a straight rain Cleaning the heavy oranges on the bough, Filling the gardens till the gardens flow, Shining the olives, tiling the gleaming tile, Waxing the dark camellia leaves more green, Flooding the daylong valleys like the Nile.
A friend tells me that this was James J. Hill's signature dessert. 
5 reasons why musicians like Bob Dylan and Stevie Nicks 
A short 
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COVID and NYC: 
Our Christmas Tree is a museum of sentiment. Essentially no store-bought stuff except things we found on our travels that stick on a tree, and all of my small bird ornaments. We have our kids' rattles, things they made in kindergarten, things like that. It's all personal.
Tony Hsieh’s American Tragedy