paste-eaters anonymous

Butter and Gas

During wartimes, my grandparents and my parents learned to "make do." I stumbled upon some ration coupons in an antique store and thought how valuable they must have been at the time, now only for sentimental reasons. The fragile paper brought back stories my parents would tell me of the War. Everyone played a part; my father was an Army man, my mother made diodes for bombs in the war effort. My grandmother, making meals with what she had, worried as two of her sons were prisoners-of-war. 

Gas was limited. Butter a luxury.

Thank a veteran today. Thank their loved ones, too. 

Dog Christmas

We're out throwing sticks. This is a repeat from last year:

 

You can learn more about Clifford at Buddy Dog

Are you Celebrating? Dog Christmas falls on the first Sunday in January after the third.

According to the husband, that was when an uncle of the baby Jesus stopped by and gave him a puppy.

Saint Joseph was not happy. "It's hard enough to find a place to stay and now you throw a dog into the mix?"

But the puppy, whose name is lost to history, grew to become Jesus' trusted companion.

Always a good dog, he obeyed when Jesus ascended into Heaven and told him, "Stay."

Legend has it he roams the earth today spreading goodwill towards all animals.

Of course, Jesus' dog was a Shepherd.

Old is the New New.

I made a comment on Facebook that Dick Clark’s appearance on ABC last night creeped me out. I regret putting it that way.

I regret it because I have too many friends and family members who have had strokes, and I know how incredibly hard it is to come back from one. I fear that what I wrote may have dismissed all of the hard work and challenges they face to get back to “normal.”

But he did creep me out. During the rush to ring out the terrible, wonderful moments of 2008 and finally get on to 2009, I was taken aback by what means New Years to me—Dick Clark, always accused of never aging and counting down the seconds of an old year—struggling to be heard, defiantly kissing the missus at midnight. It creeped me out because it demonstrated how fragile life can be.

But it also gave me some encouragement. While I am trying hard not to fall to the cynicism of having a contract to fulfill, I like to think that ABC was bold enough to let Dick Clark do another countdown because they wanted to show the tenacity of his spirit, as an example of strength and determination.

Perhaps that’s a Pollyanna way of looking at it, but as this country attempts wring out the last nasty bits of the decade of the big lie, maybe we can get down to the truly necessary; learning to ferret out the difference between want and need and bounce back, once again a nation that will stand up for justice and benevolence.

I like to think, “Yes. We can.”

They're Good For Your Heart

We don't cook turkey on Thanksgiving. The Husband isn't wild about any of the typical feast fare and unlike me, he doesn't live to eat. But I'm not heartbroken about not having the traditional meal because I know there will be those folks begging me to take the last of the pie, turkey and other trimmings come Sunday or Monday. So I make what he does like, which is baked beans.

We started the day with Coma Rolls, what I like to call my homemade cinnamon buns. There is so much butter and sugar in these things that unless you have a supply of insulin handy, you best prepare for a long nap. Which we did. Those parades are overrated anyway.

The meal itself was presented around 4 o'clock; beans, homemade bread, a green salad and Indian pudding (or, as I had to qualify, Native American Indian pudding). It's a traditional New England dish baked with cornmeal and molasses and a real pain in the ass to make if you don't have a double boiler. In case you were wondering. It's really good with vanilla ice cream. But what isn't.

Then we headed off to a friends for more dessert and to referee two brothers in their forties pelting each other with cat toys.

We know how to be thankful.

Do We Eat Cake?

So there has been some talk about Obama's inauguration party and whether or not it would be seemly for a big bash with the economy in the tank. This has had The Husband nervous since the election. He thinks that it would be a bad statement and I agree, to a point.

If they make it a big deal, does it come off as ostentatious like the Reagan parties? I remember reading about it in Sleepwalking Through History and getting steamed (does anyone remember Reagan as less than a saint these days?).

Of course, this is a huge historic event that demands a celebration.

But perhaps our idea of celebrations have been hijacked by scale. I think of a birthday party held at the farm for 25 five-year-old kids. Bless the parents, it brought a nice financial boon to the business in mid-winter, but it cost $25 a kid plus the cost of food. That's more than $625. They all learned how to make their own pizza and then headed out to the greenhouse for cake. I don't remember any games, but the kids had a great time (they're five, they had pizza and cake) and learned a little about how food is made in a restaurant. The birthday boy was a bit unfazed by it all, but very polite and thanked the staff as the parents paid the bill.

My friend Chris has two twin boys who turned nine last month. Chris and her husband are self-employed and are constantly running to keep on top of things. They live in a town that has a community room you can rent out $85. Chris made two cakes from mixes and drew a pin the tail on the Griffon (or some such fantasy monster the youngsters are into these days) as well as prepared some other games. So 25 kids from their class got to play games for a few hours and eat cake. They had a great time and learned that you can make up your own games and that imagination can be fun.

I'm not trying to equate the election of the first African-American president to a birthday party for five-year-olds. But do we need a lot politicians partying around when folks are losing their jobs and homes? If you think about it, that's what's been going on for the last eight years anyway.

It's all about change. Let's make some.

I'd welcome any opinions. You've got mine.

Ninety Years

    It's Veteran's Day, or Armistice Day which originally marked the end of World War I in 1918. A day that is to mark the "eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month" with a moment of silence.

    Personally, I think we all need to talk a lot more about veterans benefits.

Remember

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Home

Let's take a minute or two today to think about this marble we live on.

Because the world is us. Every single thing we do, does something to it. To us.

So think about what we really need.

a blue ewe for you, too

In an effort to cut down on waste products such as dyes from being dumped into our water ways, Monsanto has been working on a way to develop sheep that grow colored wool. We all know about the color variations in sheep: whites, greys, browns and of course, black, but this is much more dramatic.
By using specially-treated  food pellets, much like the ones zoos and aviaries use to keep flamingos pink, Monsanto hopes to produce sheep that will grow wool in all shades of the color spectrum. In the long run, this should actually save money for mills because it eliminates the cost of dying yarn. No longer needing to check for dye lots would  be an added bonus.
This research is still in its infancy, but a company spokesman says it's likely that these animals should be available as soon as 2010. Plans for printed sock sheep are also in the works, but due to the complexity of matching pattern and gauge, successful production could take longer.
The research has also been extended to alpaca and goat farmers. Pellets for rabbits are currently in production.

The Rabbit Connection

I don't understand the Easter Bunny. Even as a kid, a fat kid who enjoyed waking up in the morning and finding candy intended just for me, I was always suspicious of the whole rabbit bearing eggs thing. Where did this rabbit get it's eggs? I never saw a bunny hatch from an egg. Did it steal them? Is that really moral? Why do we get candy and not real eggs? Not that I was complaining, but these questions were there and no adult (or kid for that matter) had the patience to answer them for me.

I know there is some connection with fertility and I think it's odd that it's now part of the Christian vernacular. But I have issues with the Christian vernacular anyway. I will say I think the bunny has gotten a bad rap. We always compare the wildly fornicating as being "like rabbits," but I see a lot more squirrels out there than I do our carrot-loving friends.

But don't get me wrong. I love bunnies and I'm the first to scare them away by my squeals of delight when I see them in the wild. I just don't think I want them delivering my food. Happy Egg Day.