Ingrained

                                               

It's a memoir incorporating fine nature writing and reflections on the craft of woodworking, but I devoured it as if it were a novel--the ticking clock of financial ruin hangs over the story of Robinson's attempt to make a living as a bespoke furniture maker.

Robinson's reverence for wood is familiar to me, as the wife of a woodworker who reacts to painting most wood as a parent would react to dipping their child in acid. 

I too learned to appreciate the hidden beauty in wood during a stint at our wood splitter. It was like a treasure hunt--each chunk split might reveal some hidden beauty.

I loved the book for its attention to nature, to the camaraderie of a working shop, to the relationship between father and son, husband and wife, and to the importance of hand-crafted, one of a kind work in this increasingly homogenized world.

Highly recommended.

You can check out Robinson's work HERE and be sure not to miss his father's amazing wood carvings HERE.

Sometimes I'm Tempted

 Sometimes I would really like to crawl into a blanket fort like Josie and not come out till this regime is gone . . .

But, as President Nixon said, that would be wrong.

Dear Sirs

                            

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?  I find myself a  citizen of a rogue nation, headed by a power-mad egomaniac who is unchecked by a do-nothing Congress of bobbleheads.

Why is the US invading another country and kidnapping a head of state? The excuse of drug-trafficking is hollow, considering that five weeks ago Trump pardoned the ex-president of Honduras who had been convicted of . . . drug trafficking. Is it the oil? Or a diversion from the STILL unreleased UNREDACTED Epstein Files?  And a diversion from the president's criminal role in the January 6 insurrection. I say all of the above.

Yes, Maduro was a brutal ruler--but so are Putin, Orban, Lukashenko, and Kim Jong Un-- and our own Dear Leader admires them--even rolls out the red carpet for his buddy Putin. 

Our country has a bad history of bringing about regime change in sovereign nations in order to further the interests of big business--whether it's oil or sugar or bananas or rare earths, or pineapples-- only to replace a bad leader with a worse.

Acting against international law and against our Constitution (which both he and you swore to uphold,) Trump has destroyed international trust in the US and we have become a pariah among nations.

This madman--and his Cabinet of war criminals should be impeached forthwith. Where are the checks and balances? And what is this talk of "running Venezuela," when this regime is busy running the USA into the ground?

Have you forgotten the ordinary American people who continue to see prices rise, regulatory bodies neutered, social services cut or lost, and federal funding weaponized?

I look forward to midterm elections and re-building Congress to its traditional role. And hope to see justice roll down like mighty waters on this regime and its cowardly enablers.

Yours very truly

Breathe

 

Of Course

 Of course we ate black-eyed peas, collard greens, cornbread, and pork on New Year's Day. Do I really believe that ritual meal will bring luck and money to us in the coming year?

Not really. 

But, like walking barefoot in the first snow, getting wet in the first rain of May, getting the tree out of the house before the New Year, throwing a pinch of salt over my left shoulder if I spill salt, or touching wood to avert a bad outcome, I do these things because they're tradition and they put me in touch with my ancestors--especially my maternal grandmother.

We had a busy day on Wednesday and we could have left the tree up -- but I confess I felt relieved when John hauled it out the door.

My grandmother would be proud.

Happy New Year (RabbitRabbit) !

 

Josie And Her Dad Are into D & D

My dad is teaching me to play Dungeons and Dragons. We are planning our game. I drew a picture of my character. She is a Half-Elf who wants to learn to be a witch--a good witch, of course. She goes on a quest to learn magic. There are dragons.

I also drew a picture of the villain. See all the markers I got for Christmas. There are 80 of them!

I used a book Sandy sent me on How to Draw. I traced the pictures and colored them and cut them out and glued them to popsicle  sticks to make puppets. There are a lot of them!

Another thing I got for Christmas was some air dry clay. You make stuff and it dries in a few days. I am working on a playground with a swing and a slide and a tunnel slide.

This Christmas was The Best!

                 

Deep Dark Amaryllis

 

Jujubes

                                           

When I was growing up, the word jujubes meant  

 

 a fruit-shaped gummy candy, primarily sold in

 movie theaters.

Eventually I learned from reading that jujubes were a date-like dried fruit.

This year I put jujubes (the real ones) on my wish list and lo and behold!

                                       

They are sweetish and dry, not sticky like real dates. Because, as a little internet investigation proved, though they are sometimes called red dates or Chinese dates, they aren't dates at all but the dried iteration of a small, apple-like fruit (which can also be eaten fresh.)

I find them quite tasty. And love trying something new. 

Maybe dragon fruit is next. It's in our local grocery but I've been put off by the price. Hey, you only live once . . .

 

The Preacher Contemplates Matrimony

                                                     

 Lord Jesus, I come to You again, asking for a helpmeet--a nice little woman to stand by me, to welcome me home to a clean house and a hot meal on the table. I am sick and tired of doing for myself and eating frozen pizza.

You know everything--so You know how I've strayed and rambled, playing the wolf rather than the shepherd.

(Reckon I'm lucky He don't strike me down when I come a-begging. . . after the way I done my first wife.)

But, Lord, You promise in the Book to forgive sinners, and they say there is more rejoicing in Heaven over the redemption of a sinner than a good man . . . Lord, give me a helpmeet to keep me straight, and I will praise and glorify Your blessed Name to the end of my days. A man needs a woman . . .

(I don't know. . . Him and His disciples didn't have much use for women, now did they? 'Cepting that Mary who washed His feet and dried them with her hair... Now wouldn't it be something to have a woman like that . . . probably long, thick red-gold hair like . . . long enough she can sit on it . . . her crowning glory . . .not like so many of these young women today . . .lesbians and femi-nazis and ugly to the bone.)

A young woman, Lord . . . (she is right much  than me . . . young enough to bear my children. It's a judgement on me, not having a son to carry on my name. Maybe I hadn't ought to have made Sarabeth get rid of that baby--but a young man just starting out didn't need that kind of burden.)

Lord Jesus, I have erred and strayed, but with a good woman, a young woman to give me children and to bless my old age . . .

(She has the one child--that pretty little girl--but I reckon she's good for several more. And I know she's a hard worker--had to be since her husband got killed in that car wreck. She's a good Christian too, don't run around far as I know. If she did, the old biddies at church would for sure let me know.

(Old biddies--they's a sight of them at church what brings me casseroles and rolls their eyes at me. Any one of them would jump at the chance of being the preacher's wife. But what use is a wrinkled old woman past child-bearing to a man like me? I need to raise up sons to carry on my name.)

Lord Jesus, I believe You are speaking to me, leading me to set an example of Christian marriage--Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. In these end times, a pastor must lead by example. I admit and repent of my past failings and fall on Your precious mercy to turn her eyes and heart to me . . .

(She's a nurse, too, a nice income and when I get older, should I go to ailing . . .)

                                    

And a Few Dawgs

There were five--our three and Ethan and Aileen's two--but as they don't get along there was constant juggling to keep them in or out or in separate parts of the house.

This big boy is Bucephalus, aka Boo. He's pretty sure he's a lap dog.

 

A Cuban Christmas Feast

We had Lechon (pork shoulder) Mojo (marinated in orange and lemon juice, an ungodly amount of garlic, with oregano and cumin. Sides were Moros y Cristianos (black beans and rice,) Cuban -style collard greens, roasted winter squash, fried plantains, green salad, and rolls.

There were wonderful crackers and spreads ( smoked trout and a tapenade )for befores and an embarrassment of desserts--frozen eggnog pie, deep, dark gingerbread with raspberry curd, fudge, and cinnamon ice cream.

The aromas of the cooking took me back to the Ybor City of my youth. And the enthusiastic response from the family tells me we may have a new Christmas tradition.

Next year, I'll add in Yuca -- another traditional side with lots of garlic. And, it was suggested, maybe mojitos instead of Bloody Marys.

Hoping everyone's holiday was what they enjoyed!

 

And a Merry Christmas to All

 

I've always loved the idea of Santa Claus -- though these days I kind of prefer the Father Christmas image to the jolly fat man of the Fifties. But whether you call him Santa, Father Christmas, or Saint Nicholas, he embodies the warmth and open-handed generosity of the season.

I feel sorry for children whose parents choose not to play the Santa Claus game. I remember putting out the plate of cookies, going to bed, and lying awake, listening for the sound of sleigh bells. Magic was definitely in the air . . .

When my boys were little, we played the same game -- with the addition of letters written to Santa weeks ahead and burned in the fireplace so that the spirit of the letter would magically rise up and make its way to the North Pole. On Christmas Eve, there would be hay and carrots for the reindeer in addition to the cookies. And always a little note from Santa in the morning, thanking the boys for the nice snack.

It was evidently the note that eventually awakened the boys to reality. "We noticed," said Ethan, "that Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy all had the same handwriting."