I was reading today's devotional on-line at the Upper Room web site when a sentence brought me up short.

"I am a victim of Shy-Drager Disease, and doctors have said I have only 10 years of life remaining." Atsuko Sato (Kagoshima, Japan).

Forget all the melodrama you are supposed to feel when someone emails you a message reminding you that this might be your last day of life and be sure to live it properly. How would you handle the news that you had only 10 years to live? What changes could you or would you make in your everyday life to improve the quality and joy of your life? How hard would it be to maintain those changes? I think it would be terribly hard to live with the knowledge for 10 years.

My wife was supposed to have cataract surgery on her left eye Tuesday morning. But she, like I, has an explosive self-actuated cough and was afraid that would interfere. We got to surgery just before 7 am and she was fed into the processing line and wheeled into the surgery. Shortly they wheeled her back out. They did not do the surgery for fear that the cough would rip out the stitches in her eye. She is terribly disappointed. This set-back and other things have made this a grumpy, dis-heartened Christmas season. While she was out hopefully finishing errands our junior daughter came by and decorated the new tree that previously was only pre-lighted.

This is the tree with the lights turned off. For a view with them on and her using a non-OSHA approved step device click the picture. The chair may not look especially unsafe to you but then you do not know that two of the glue joints are broken. She did a superb job. I am glad she did it because I am through trimming trees. Fifty plus years is enough in the chain gang.

My church has joined a movement called "The Advent Conspiracy" to reduce the commercialism of Christmas. The Advent Conspiracy was born of a common complaint: There was too much time and money spent shopping, too little time spent enjoying family and friends and almost no time devoted to the Scriptural messages of service delivered by the one whose birth is celebrated on Dec. 25. An article in the Houston Chronicle illustrated the part Terrace United Methodist Church is taking.http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/life/religion/6779021.html. Our pastor is asking each of to buy one less present and donate the money saved to help provide clean drinking water to the impoverished areas of the world. I am still surprised to find the church that I quit decades ago because it was so old and stuffy to be bounding with such energy and outreach now. Many of the same people are still there. All I know is that it is a joy to see a church trying to be like Jesus.

Maybe just one more optical illusion. The evil person who sent these told me there are 10 faces in this picture. Try as I might I cannot imagine how I could see less than 11. Even with one eye closed I see 11.


The tartan my Sunday School classmate gave me set me off in search of ancestral history. The search for Donnachaidh led me to a Robertson site. To join I had to supply information about our (Robertson) most ancient ancestor known to us. The response I got was refreshingly honest. I suppose I should not be surprised since honesty is a genetic trait with the Scots.

"We have one participant with the surname Robbins. He has a story of Scottish ancestry. To be quite honest I am not sure that someone who was in New Jersey as early as 1622 would be a Scot but it is always worth comparing your results with those of others (we have results from a number of American founding fathers) and you can then compare family trees.

The project is actually under the name Donnachaidh as Robertson is a surname of Clan Donnachaidh."

If not for this answer I almost assumed the site was just trying to sell DNA kits and tests. With his doubt about our earliest Robertson being a Scot I see no need to pay $199 for genetic testing.

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

One Sunday, in counting the money in the weekly offering, the Pastor of a small church found a pink envelope containing $1,000. It happened again the next week!

The following Sunday, he watched as the offering was collected and saw an elderly woman put the distinctive pink envelope on the plate. This went on for weeks until the pastor, overcome by curiosity, approached her.

"Ma'am, I couldn't help but notice that you put $1,000 a week in the collection plate," he stated.

"Why yes," she replied, "every week my son sends me money and I give some of it to the church."

The pastor replied, "That's wonderful. But $1000 is a lot, are you sure you can afford this? How much does he send you?"

The elderly woman answered, "$10,000 a week."

The pastor was amazed. "Your son is very successful; what does he do for a living?"

"He is a veterinarian," she answered.

"That's an honorable profession, but I had no idea they made that much money," the pastor said. "Where does he practice?"

The woman answered proudly, "In Nevada. He has two cat houses, one in Las Vegas, and one in Reno '

The advertisement is the most truthful part of a newspaper.
Thomas Jefferson

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

I am going to keep this short. I am emotionally shattered. I went to the doctor this afternoon as directed. He gave me AMOX TR-K CLV 875-125. This is 875 mg Amoxicillin plus 125 mg Clavulanate which makes it a stronger antibiotic than Amoxicillin only. Dr. Feldman said it will also kill the bacteria in the cat bite. I hope so. Mu wife was more worried about them than my breathing problem. I missed Bingo at Turning Point because of the long wait for the doctor and the medicine. Plus I am just not comfortable in crowds right now. But that is not the reason I am emotional. The Discovery High Definition TV Channel has been looping 3 one hour segments covering Jesus from childhood to death. I find it perturbing when the scholars look for secular reason for what Jesus did. Of course, if you doubt or deny his divinity you have to find a worldly reason. We have, as far as I know in December 2009, no actual documents about Jesus as a child or young man, yet the scholars talk as if he really existed. Then in another leap across the mystery of God they do a slow fade around the mystery of his resurrection. Either he was the son of God and did his works under direction of his father or he was simply a dirty little poor Jew. Which one do you think would leave a believable story for over 2000 years? I have no proof but then I have no proof that I exist. I believe in God and by extension I believe in Jesus. Every thing is simply paid mumbo jumbo. What has shattered me is the recreation of the Passion. I took me four tries to get through it in Mel Gibson's "The Passion of Christ". I have hated many people in my life but never anyone so that I wanted to beat them so brutally.

Below is another optical illusion There are supposedly ladies in this image of Einstein's face.
Did you see them? How many did you see? Are you tired of this?

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

WHAT A LOVELY STORY!

Where we live, on the Eastern shore of Maryland, the gentle waters run in and out like fingers slimming at the tips. They curl into the smaller creeks and coves like tender palms.

The Canada geese know this place, as do the white swans and the ducks who ride an inch above the waves of Chesapeake Bay as they skim their way into harbor. In the autumn, by the thousands, they come home for the winter.

The swans move toward the shores in a stately glide, their tall heads proud and unafraid.

They lower their long necks deep into the water, where their strong beaks dig through the river bottoms for food. And there is, between the arrogant swans and the prolific geese, an indifference, almost a disdain.

Once or twice each year, snow and sleet move into the area. When this happens, if the river is at its narrowest, or the creek shallow, there is a freeze which hardens the water to ice. It was on such a morning, near Osford, Maryland, that a friend of mine set the breakfast table beside the huge window, which overlooked the Tred Avon River. Across the river, beyond the dock, the snow laced the rim of the shore in white. For a moment she stood quietly, looking at what the night's storm had painted.

Suddenly she leaned forward and peered close to the frosted window. "It really is," she cried out loud, "there is a goose out there." She reached to the bookcase and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Into their sights came the figure of a large Canada goose, very still, its wings folded tight to its sides, its feet frozen to the ice.

Then from the dark skies, she saw a line of swans. They moved in their own singular formation, graceful, intrepid, and free. They crossed from the west of the broad creek high above the house, moving steadily to the east.

As my friend watched, the leader swung to the right, then the white string of birds became a white circle. It floated from the top of the sky downward. At last, as easy as feathers coming to earth, the circle landed on the ice. My friend was on her feet now, with one unbelieving hand against her mouth. As the swans surrounded the frozen goose, she feared what life he still had might be pecked out by those great swan bills.

Instead, amazingly instead, those bills began to work on the ice. The long necks were lifted and curved down, again and again, it went on for a long time. At last, the goose was rimmed by a narrow margin of ice instead of the entire creek.

The swans rose again, following the leader, and hovered in that circle, awaiting the results of their labors. The goose's head lifted. Its body pulled. Then the goose was free and standing on the ice. He was moving his big webbed feet slowly. And the swans stood in the air watching.

Then, as if he had cried, "I cannot fly," four of the swans came down around him. Their powerful beaks scraped the goose's wings from top to bottom, scuttled under its wings and rode up its body, chipping off and melting the ice held in the feathers.

Slowly, as if testing, the goose spread its wings as far as they would go, brought them together, accordion-like, and spread again. When at last the wings reached their fullest, the four swans took off and joined the hovering group. They resumed their eastward journey, in perfect formation, to their secret destination.

Behind them, rising with incredible speed and joy, the goose moved into the sky. He followed them, flapping double time, until he caught up, until he joined the last end of the line, like a small child at the end of a crack-the-whip of older boys.

My friend watched them until they disappeared over the tips of the farthest trees. Only then, in the dusk, which was suddenly deep, did she realize that tears were running down her cheeks and had been for how long she didn't know.

This is a true story. It happened. I do not try to interpret it. I just think of it in the bad moments, and from it comes only one hopeful question: "If so for birds, why not for man?

That government is the strongest of which every man feels himself a part.
Thomas Jefferson

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

Misunderstandings can lead to terribly hurt feeling and a sense of rejection. I apologize for any misunderstanding I caused.

A friend from my Upper Room send me a page from a calendar with information about the Robertson family. The info corroborated what my sister has uncovered with her extensive research into our family tree.

"The Chief of the Clan Robertson, known also as the Clann Donnachaidh was Donnachadh Reamhar otherwise know as Duncan de Atholia. who was a male descendant of the ancient Celtic Earls of Athole. The clan, however. count their Chiefs from Duncan, under whom they first appear as a clan in support of Robert the Bruce - Duncan's friend and kinsman. ''The Robertson's of Struan'' says Skene ''are unquestionably the oldest family in Scotland, being the sole remaining branch of that Royal House which occupied the throne of Scotland during the eleventh and twelfth centuries.'' From first to last the clan is noted for its loyalty to the Stewart monarchs. On the murder of James I at Perth, it was Robert, the Chief of Clann Donnachaidh who captured his murderers, for which act he had many honours conferred on him by King James I's successor; and to further commemorate this, father and son took the name of Robertson, which the clan has since retained."

Excuse me if my typing seems even worse than normal please. Earlier this week I knocked over a container of "bad pop" onto the keyboard. I blew as much as possible out with "Dust It" and then misted a fog of water over it and let soak for 35 seconds and blew it dry with the "Dust It". The keys have been sticking for the last two days. Since the keyboard is plastic and the active elements are covered with a liquid proof membrane I think the stickiness is caused by the coke syrup catching dust. I will pry off the keys and swab out the guide posts and blow dry. If that don't work I will use one I have in stock and buy another $5 keyboard for standby.

Wednesday night I heada commotion at the front door. I thought it might bethe UPS man dropping a package of Yo-Yos. Instead it was an Opossum. Those are the ugliest, vilest creatures I have seen This belligerent little beast charged toward the opened door. Rascal who had been watching calmly, he often catches glimpses of "orange kitty through the open door, hurled himself toward the Opossum. Instantly I knew that Rascal would be no match, being a naïve, lazy, overfed indoor cat, and I stuck my left leg in the way and slammed the door. I guess Rascal was still in battle mode because he bite my left shin. The distance between the bite marks show he had his mouth completely open. Maybe he would have been a match. He and I were both stunned. When I flung him off he was growling like a lion. But shortly he began to act like he knew had done wrong. He spent the remainder of the evening quite literally touching me as if he was trying to say "SORRY". Next time I will let him have a go at Opossum.

The big wounds on the front of the shin hurt worse than they look. I have been medicating and keeping them open to drain.

My senior cousin sent me an email with optical illusions. I liked these so much I decided to share one. At first it just looks like a bucolic pencil drawing. But the caption said "Can you see a face?" Not at first but then all of a sudden there was a face plain as day. Now when I look at picture I cannot not see the face. There obviously is not a face.

Humans are so good at constructing other images from disparate elements of their vision field. The ability to reimagine reality is the reason I am very skeptical of eye witness testimony. I grew up separate from people who discussed or even observed the night sky so I did not hear the names of constellations until Markham. To this day I struggle to find any constellation others than Orion, Scorpio, and the Big Dipper (I have not been able to visualize Ursa Major). Dang! I didn't know the Big Dipper was an asterism.

Time to doctor my leg again. See you on the flip side.

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

Because I'm a man, when I lock my keys in the car, I will fiddle with a coat hanger long after hypothermia has set in. Calling AAA is not an option. I will win.

Because I'm a man, when the car isn't running very well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I'm looking at. If another man shows up, one of us will say to the other, 'I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn't know where to start.' We will then drink a couple of beers and break wind, as a form of holy communion.

Because I'm a man, when I catch a cold, I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You're a woman. You never get as sick as I do, so for you, this is no problem.

Because I'm a man, I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like beer, milk or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like 'cumin' or 'tofu.' For all I know, these are the same thing.

Because I'm a man, when one of our appliances stops working, I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.

Because I'm a man, I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I may miss a whole show looking for it.....though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator..... ( applies to engineers mainly).

Because I'm a man, there is no need to ask me what I'm thinking about. The true answer is always either sex, cars, sex, sports or sex. I have to make up something else when you ask, so don't ask.

Because I'm a man, I do not want to visit your mother, or have your mother come visit us, or talk to her when she calls, or think about her any more than I have to. Whatever you got her for Mother's Day is okay; I don't need to see it. And don't forget to pick up something for my mother, too.

Because I'm a man, you don't have to ask me if I liked the movie. Chances are, if you're crying at the end of it, I didn't ..and if you are feeling amorous afterwards..then I will certainly at least remember the name and recommend it to others.

Because I'm a man, I think what you're wearing is fine. I thought what you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine. With the belt or without it, looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine. Can we just go now?

Because I'm a man, and this is, after all, the year 2009, I will share equally in the housework. You just do the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the vacuuming, and the dishes, and I'll do the rest...... Like wandering around in the garden with a beer wondering what to do.

That government is best which governs the least, because its people discipline themselves.
Thomas Jefferson

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

I have talked recently about rereading a book titled "A Canticle for Liebowitz". I have believed since I was 15 that it is one of the best novels ever published. But the deeper I got into the novel the stranger it became. Some of the first 116 pages were hauntingly familiar and some totally alien. Some of the most vivid details I remembered from the first reading in 1956 were completely absent. I began to imagine that I had reconstructed the book in my memory. But instead of ending after the death of Brother Francis the books continues into the far distant future. WHAT? I did not forget or could not have forgotten two-thirds of one of my 10 most favorite books. I struggled on reading into the Fiat Lux until Mr. Miller's voice again captured me. I ran into a Latin phrase for which he offered no translation and Googled. The stream of results included a web siteSTUDY GUIDE. In the guide I discovered the book to hand is a rewrite of Canticle (published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction,) and two added sections and was first printed in 1959. Now I am on a quest to find a copy of the one I read in 1955 to see how well I remember.

Another item in the stream of results was an introduction by Mary Doria Russell in 2005 to a later printing of A Canticle for Liebowitz.

"Go into a bookstore, and you'll and novels shelved alphabetically by author's last name but divided into a number of categories: mystery, science fiction, romance. Each genre gets its own section which is understandable but then there are the novels classified as Fiction and others as Literature. What's the difference between the two? My best guess was that to be Literature the novel's author had to be dead…

Fiction was defined as "any literary work portraying imaginary characters and events as a novel story or plays'' while literature included in; writings in prose or verse, especially those of an imaginative character, but especially those having an excellence of form or permanent value…

So basically, Literature is classier than Fiction…

The best answer I got was from my stepbrother Jack Provenzale who doesn't sell books but is a passionate reader. He said "Literature changes you. When you're done reading you're a different person."

A Canticle for Liebowitz is literature no matter how you define it…

The novel's lovely prose is studded with arcane, beautiful and perfectly chosen words in English, Latin, and Hebrew. Those of us who read with a dictionary at hand are frequently rewarded…

I've read this novel three times. The story has of course remained the same since 1959, but the person with my name who read it in 1968 and 1998. at eighteen and forty-eight, are not the same as the one who came to the novel most recently at the age of fifty-five. AII three of us have been altered by it, according to our gifts at the time…

When I noticed a reissue of A Canticle for Liebowitz, I bought it wondering how a novel in print for so long held up after all those years. Very well indeed was my assessment although the 1950s anxieties of its post-nuclear setting seemed somewhat dated…

I never imagined that in ten years, science and rationality would requite explanation and defense in a world rocked and ruled by religious fervor…

Now; fifty-some years since Miller worked on the three novellas that became A Canticle for Liebowitz the novel is stunningly, infuriatingly, and sadly contemporary. Time after time as I read I folded corners down on my old paperback awed by Miller's graceful elucidation of the tangled tensions pulling at faith and science aesthetics and reason, and the compassion with which he conveyed the particularity of an individuals life and death within the sweep of impersonal history…

And I am sufficiently fed up with my species to share Walter Miller's resigned amusement at this bleeding world, which would surely convince sentient vultures that God created it for them. Call it cynicism. if you like. I call it accuracy…

If this is your first time through A Canticle for Liebowitz, prepare for a captivating read. If you are picking it up again, decades after an earlier encounter, relax It will not disappoint you, for this is a novel of enduring value and you'll be different when you finish it."

For the whole introduction by Mary Doria Russell in 2005 click HERE.
Mary said it much better than I ever could. Now I need our junior daughter to read it and do a book report in her hub pages.

Yesterday (Tuesday December 15) my wife had cataract surgery on her right eye. After the anesthetic wore off the she rode her scooter into the waiting room where I was. She alternated closing one eye and then the other. She kept saying "Oh Wow, the colors!" She was still amazed at the vividness of colors today when we went for her follow up exam. Her right eye tested at 20/20. Even with corrective lenses her right eye was (I believe) 20/80. She is really ready to get the other eye done. I am tremendously relieved that the surgery went so smooth and that she is happy. Riding with her in past was scary because she could not see very well. She is so satisfied with Dr. Yankelove that I have scheduled an eye exam. Mainly because my glasses are almost 6 years old and very scratched.

Oh gosh I am going to stop! "Casablanca" just started on the Turner Classic Movie channel. Last night "Gone with the Wind" was on TCM. What a crashing boring phony movie.

This weekend I hope to go to see Avatar. The previews make it seem a fully realized world. I want to go to see how internally consistent the alternate reality is.

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

I was sitting on the sofa watching TV when I heard my wife's voice from the kitchen.

"What would you like for dinner, Hon? Chicken or beef?"

I said, "Thank you, I'll have beef."

She yelled, "Screw you. You're having soup. I was talking to the dog."

Obviously the Love has faded.

Taste cannot be controlled by law.
Thomas Jefferson

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

Apparently William had no premonition of the madness of Bill Gates and the insanity of the Microsoft programmers. He definitely had no inkling that the incomprehensible science of our modern world would describe a creation that is not the simplest possible. To create such a complicated universe as we observe requires either a GOD or an unimaginable series of random happenings. God is a much simpler postulate and is as testable as the multiverses that string theory forces. If I believe in multiverses only and I am wrong when I die I will be worse than dead. If I believe in God only and I am wrong I will only be dead. The translation will be under the Jefferson quote.

It gets tedious to hear it and even more tedious to report on an old man's health. I cannot seem to gather my strength or spirits since I first fell sick mid November. Any activity that requires more than an hour of effort or attention drains me and I find myself head down on my desk drooling over my papers or sound asleep on the throne. Recently I think the gray, drizzly skies have added to my lassitude. I hope spring time comes soon. Tonight near midnight the Geminid meteor shower is supposed to be peaking. In 2009, so far, the sky has been overcast for every named meteor shower. I found a web site HERE that has a calendar listing all the celestial events for 2010.
Quadrantids Meteor Shower. Jan 3-4
Lyrids Meteor Shower April 21-22
Eta Aquarids Meteor Shower May 5-6
Southern Delta Aquarids Meteor Shower July 28-29
Perseids Meteor Shower August 12-13
Orionids Meteor Shower October 21-22
Leonids Meteor Shower November 17-18
Geminids Meteor Shower December 13-14

I truly am ignorant of the sky. I recognized few of the names. When I was in grade school I could name hundreds of stars and recite the dates of eclipses. Now I do good to remember the moon phases.

My Sunbday School Class had their Christmas party Friday night. I took 4 pictures with my iphone and then used one of the applications "stitch" them together to create the picture below. The image is blurry because people were moving around from one snap to the other. We sang Christmas songs and carols. I feel so comfortable with the group. They are so much like my beloved grannies!


My class is named "Upper Room".

I just watched the Dallas Cowboy vs San Diego Charger football game. Dallas looked terrible.

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

PECAN PANCAKES WITH BUTTER PECAN SYRUP

2 cups dry pancake mix
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Water and egg as called for in the mix directions

Note: For the oil called for in the mix, use melted butter.

In a small bowl, mix the nuts, spices, and extract together until the nuts are covered with spices. Prepare the pancake mix as directed on the package. Stir in the nut mixture, stirring no more than needed. Cook per the directions on the package.

BUTTER PECAN SYRUP

2 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup water
1/3 cup dark corn syrup
4 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons vanilla extract or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and 1 teaspoon rum extract
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans

Mix the sugar, water and corn syrup together in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring as needed. Add the butter, extract, and nuts and stir. Serve hot.

Speeches that are measured by the hour will die with the hour.
Thomas Jefferson

*(Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity.)

If you are young and read the quote above and try to analyze it you get confused. BUT if you are old you know immediately what is meant.

I thought I had begun to recover yet today when I left the house to have lunch at Turning Point I immediately realized that I was not up to visiting any humans. So I returned home and started pumping myself up for the marriage counseling session this evening. Then I took a nap. I woke with a sore throat and a now persistent cough. SHIT! My feet are swollen, I feel bloated, and I have a cough. I know I ain't pregnant. I wish I knew what is wrong.

Our counselor called and cancelled the session because she is sick. Darn. The wife and I actually talked for about 30 minutes as part of our homework to arrive at an agreement about the two Houston grandsons. I typed up what I thought we agreed and after very little discussion we both signed it. Then the session was cancelled. Oh Well!!

We went to Olive Garden instead of the session. I had water to drink. My wife was shocked hat I didn't have a mixed drink or a soft drink. We brought home two doggy boxes.

My favorite Journaler/blogger wrote a piece 5 years ago that I just stumbled across. I have read few pieces that do such honor to the ordinary people. To read the whole piece click HERE. I can honestly say that he is the only writer that I have read every day for the last 5 years. I lost track of him in 2004 when he changed hosts. I was overjoyed when I found him again a year later. Since I have been reading his archives trying to catch up.

I am presently engaged with a conversation with a tech weenie at Tripod. I am trying to regain the ability to post entries to my blog via remote email entry. At 4 iterations I realized the tech is deliberately answering questions I did not ask and purposely misreading my messages. It seems a simple thing to unblock a certain email address. I don't know how long I can tolerate the blissfully ignorant "help". I cannot remember meeting any computer/internet support personnel that I would piss on if they were on fire. I am almost convinced that I am going to migrate my blog to Blogger when I am traveling or want to report something.

The recent spell of cold weather following the snow has turned my mind to the southern Caribbean. My soul lusts for the feel of soft warm white sand between my toes. I imagine I can hear the surge of the gentle waves and hear native music. I copied a bunch of pictures from the recently formed Island Wind Jammers corporate web site. The company was formed from passengers who missed the old Barefoot cruises.

Click on the picture for the collection of pictures.

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

Katie Couric, Charlie Gibson, Brian Williams and a tough old U.S. Marine Sergeant were captured by terrorists in Iraq . The leader of the terrorists told them he'd grant each of them one last request before they were beheaded and dragged naked through the streets.

Katie Couric said, 'Well, I'm a Southerner, so I'd like one last plate of fried chicken.'

The leader nodded to an underling who left and returned with the chicken. Couric ate it all and said, 'Now I can die content.'

Charlie Gibson said, 'I'm living in ' New York , so I'd like to hear the song, The Moon and Me, one last time.' The terrorist leader nodded to another terrorist who had studied the Western world and knew the music. He returned with some rag-tag musicians and played the song. Gibson was satisfied.

Brian Williams said, 'I'm a reporter to the end. I want to take out my tape recorder and describe the scene here and what's about to happen. Maybe, someday, someone will hear it and know that I was on the job till the end.' The leader directed an aide to hand over the tape recorder and Williams dictated his comments. He then said, 'Now I can die happy.'

The leader turned and said, 'And now, Mr.. U.S. Marine, what is your final wish?

'Kick me in the ass,' said the Marine.

'What?' asked the leader, 'Will you mock us in your last hour?'

'No, I'm NOT kidding. I want you to kick me in the ass,' insisted the Marine. So the leader shoved him into the yard and kicked him in the ass.

The Marine went sprawling, but rolled to his knees, pulled a 9 mm pistol from inside his cammies and shot the leader dead. In the resulting confusion, he emptied his sidearm on six terrorists, then with his knife he slashed the throat of one, and with an AK-47, which he took, sprayed the rest of the terrorists killing another 11. In a flash, all of them were either dead or fleeing for their lives.

As the Marine was untying Couric, Gibson, and Williams, they asked him, 'Why didn't you just shoot them all in the first place? Why did you ask him to kick you in the ass?'

'What?' replied the Marine, 'and have you three ass holes report that I was the aggressor.....?

Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, then be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found angels in the form of kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.
Thomas Jefferson

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

Attention Tripod "help" people! This entry was composed using blog manager and not with my iphone via email.

I received my second cortisone injection this morning. I was supposed to have had this shot November 13, 2009 but I had so much congestion, according to the doctor, that they were afraid to progress when I started choking and flopping around on the table. Finally I got well enough to get the second injection. But they did not put me to sleep and did the injection under local anesthesia. Being awake during the injection was not as bad as I feared. The worst part was lying on my big ole stomach.

While I was waiting for the doctor snow started falling. I think every snow flake was photographed by some person. At one time there were 20 plus people standing near the entrance snapping pictures with their cell phone.

This was taken with my iphone.

I still have received no real help from Tripod to solve the problem of my email being UBE for remote blog entries.

After the procedure we drove home by the back streets to avoid the traffic and found it worse than it would have been on the freeway. The closer we got to "shattered manor" the heavier the fall became. The younger grandson was vibrating like a tuning fork and could barely contain himself. He burst out of the car and started making snow balls. I went in the house and got my camera and took many more pictures. The one below was taken to show how hard it was snowing in our part of Spring Branch.

The sky cleared and the sun came out at about 5 pm so I think we will have a hard freeze but no more snow. For more pictures of the snow event click HERE or click on Tripod HERE.
My wife and I are almost afraid we have a "weather god" on our hands. Since we moved into this house we have had measurable snow falls in 1984, 2004, 2008, and 2009. Junior grandson has "predicted" the last three. I put quotes around predicted because I am not at all certain that Cameron didn't command the snow. He was within hours of predicting the snow in 2004 and he got the day right this year.

I watched the final episode of "MONK" tonight. Of all the finales I have seen Monk had the most satisfying end. The finale gave us a glimpse of the lives of the characters after the end. The characters of any series that one watchs faithfully for a period of years becomes real in the viewer's mind. I still wonder what character from many of my favorite shows of the past would be doing if they were real.

Below are three recipes. One of them is named Rascals. I have not made it yet but I think my cat Rascal might like them.

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

11/26/2009
Chicken & Swiss Cheese Casserole

6 Boneless, skinless Chicken Breasts
8 oz. package Swiss Cheese
1 package Stuffing, any size package
Combine: 1 can Cream of Chicken Soup
1/2 can milk

Lay chicken in a 9 x 13 casserole dish, place cheese slices over the chicken, pour the soup mixture over the cheese. Make your stuffing as directed on package and sprinkle this over the milk and cheese layer.
Bake uncovered at 325 degrees for 1 1/2 hours.

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11/26/2009
Double Duty Breakfast Casserole

In a bowl combine:
24 oz. package frozen Shredded potatoes
2 cups cooked Diced Ham
salt and pepper to taste
1 can Cheddar Cheese Soup
2 soup cans full of Milk
10 eggs

Options:
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped red and/or green pepper
1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
1/2 cup black olives, diced
1/2 cup green olives, diced

Topping
2 cup shredded Cheddar Cheese

Combine all the above, mix well. Place in a 3 quart casserole dish. Top with 2 cups shredded Cheddar Cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 to 55 minutes or until knife in center of casserole comes out clean.

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11/19/2009
Rascals "Cheese Potato Puffs"

1 cup mashed potatoes
2 beaten eggs
1/2 cup milk
2 cups or 8 oz. shredded cheddar or American cheese
1/2 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
salt & pepper to taste
oil for frying

Combine all the ingredients except the oil. In a pan or a deep fat fryer heat oil to 375 degrees. Drop batter by tablespoons, 4 or 5 at a time, into the oil. Fry 3 or 4 minutes or until golden. Serve immediately.
Yields about 24 Rascals

So confident am I in the intentions, as well as wisdom, of the government, that I shall always be satisfied that what is not done, either cannot, or ought not to be done.
Thomas JeffersonObviously Jefferson's crystal ball failed to show him the Federal Government we have had for the last 30 years. Corrupt, bloated, inefficient, out of touch, but BY GOD it is all ours!

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

Below in no particular order are pieces of thoughts rumbling through my head since I fell victim of the CEDAR SINUS SINGULARITY.
I must have given God a good laugh when I announced "come hell or high water I shall see '2012'." I haven't even been near a theater. In fact, yesterday was the first time I was away from home and my recliner bed for more than an hour. Never again will I venture to the Texas Hill Country without my ALLERCLEAR from COSTCO. I split my bottle of pills into three bottles. I now have one in my packed suitcase, my backpack, and on my desk. Once a day rain or shine I will take them till death us do part.

My next (rescheduled) cortisone shot is Friday at 3 pm. I will fall on my knees and beg they go through with it even if it appears I am dying. I have felt twinges of pain in my lower back twice in the last two days. I could not live with such pain as I had before the first cortisone shot again.

The last full entry I wrote was November 16. I cannot possibly copy and paste all the daily UPPER ROOM prayers since so I shall only paste the last 5 days of their prayers.

We went to senior grandson's basketball game tonight through a driving rainstorm even worse that what Carol and Dave encountered on their way from San Antonio to Houston. The Lutheran St. Marks Cougars beat the daylights out of the Lutheran Faith Lions. Jared (Cougar guard) is a tough aggressive basketball player who buys into my philosophy of "you aint fouling you aint playing". I drove because the game started after sundown and my wife cannot see well enough to drive in the dark. See is having cataract surgery in the near future. I am just able to see well enough to drive after dark. See is trying to talk me into the same surgery. NOPE 68 years these eyes have served me well enough.

The kitchen drain is solidly plugged somewhere past under the sink. I think it is the grease trap. Several plumbing companies have quoted as little as $1000 to OMG! I couldn't hear for the blood pooling in my feet. I have asked one of my Emmaus brothers to look at and fix the problem. Alan said he will as soon as it dries a little. I hope that is soon since the sink is now draining into the back yard.

I include an especially poignant request for prayer from Eshe of Santa Maria. She is facing the worst problem a parent can face all the while fighting her own demon. Please read the prayer requests and keep these troubled women in your heart and prayers during the Christmas season.

"Eshe (pronounced Isha) – My request is to be able to deal with my daughters sudden death. Father Jesus please help me through this. Jesus help me in my addiction. Help me thru these financial difficulties. Release the money owed to me from my judgement. Make ready a home for me and our children here on earth. Release the sin in me and I beg that, you Father, take away the ground that I gave Satan to walk on. In Jesus name I pray."
Please click on a HERE to read the rest of the women's prayers.

Our local MacDonald's has two drive-through windows. You are supposed pay at the first one and pickup your order at the second. Notice I did not say food. Nope! MacDonald's will keep you alive until you can get to real food somewhere else. At the second window they have posted a prominent sign notifying their patrons that BRAILLE AND PICTURE MENUS ARE AVAILABLE. The signs are on the driver's side. When did blind people start driving to MacDonald's? What zipper head decided to put the notice at the last position? The sign, if useful at all, should be on the device where one places one's order. I'll bet this was a ADA mandate. Everything I see reinforces my belief that our entire Federal government has been captured by idiots and others of less intelligence. And they want me to accept total Federal governance of the nation's medical program!!!

Click on the text below to send a postcard to US Military Personnel. Clicking the text will take you to a site where you can select a card style and either write a short note or select from many available messages.
The mission of Let's Say Thanks is to provide a way for individuals across the country to recognize U.S. troops stationed overseas. By submitting a message through this site you have the opportunity to send a free personalized postcard greeting to deployed servicemen and women. I have been clicking once a day. You cannot select the service person who will receive the card. However they all need to hear from us.

Now on a cheerier note.

 

Click the picture for comic strips on-line.

Spinach Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing
Serves 4

8 ounces young spinach
2 large eggs
8 pieces thick-sliced bacon
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Freshly ground black pepper
4 large white mushrooms, sliced
2 shallots, chopped

Remove the stems from the spinach and wash, drain and pat dry thoroughly. Place into a large mixing bowl and set aside.
Place the eggs into a pan with enough water to cover. Set over high heat. Once the water comes to a boil, turn off the stove. Leave the eggs in the water for 15 minutes. Remove and peel off the shell. Slice each egg into 8 pieces and set aside.
While the eggs are cooking, fry the bacon and remove to a paper towel to drain, reserving 3 tablespoons of the rendered fat. Crumble the bacon and set aside.
Transfer the fat to a small saucepan set over low heat and whisk in the red wine vinegar, sugar and Dijon mustard. Season with a small pinch each of black pepper. (the original recipe calls for salt but I've never used it as I think the bacon makes it salty enough)
Add the mushrooms and the shallots to the spinach and toss. Add the dressing and bacon and toss to combine. Top with sliced egg. Serve immediately.

Rightful liberty is unobstructed action according to our will within limits drawn around us by the equal rights of others. I do not add 'within the limits of the law' because law is often but the tyrant's will, and always so when it violates the rights of the individual.
Thomas Jefferson

Webtvers email comments to Lyn1937 and I will paste into the comments. This Tripod comment form is not compatible with webtv.

I slept like a log last night. I was awakened only once by a small tickle in my throat and a single cough. I feel good enough to hope I live. Last Wednesday I was afraid I was going to live. I am never going into the Texas hill country without my Kirkland ALLERCLEAR. I had been taking it daily and had had no sinus problems. I guess I got complacent and forgot it was protecting me. I split the bottle I have into 3 containers and now have one in my suitcase, one in my backpack, and one on my desk.

Tomorrow I have to rent a plumbers snake and clear the plug blocking the drain from the kitchen sink. I also need to get 3 bags of SHOCK for the pool. The pool is disgustingly green. I also need to wash the filters and empty the surface skimmers of the pool.

 I did finish printing the labels for the Christmas Card envelopes. I hope to mail them after my cortisone injection Tuesday afternoon.

I hope Monday (tomorrow) to write a proper entry.

Today is Caro's annual mammogram day. She is one of the high risk women so she would get them annually under the new guidelines. I wonder how much money figured into the new Federal guidelines. As we entered MD Anderson we walked into a sale of some kind; bracelets, necklaces, blouses, scarves, and etc. I was afraid I would have drag her away. But no, the thrill of the gram called! It is a bleak and rainy day here. http://lyn1937.com/