Friday, June 3, 2011

Open Up Them Wings, Baby!

Thought for the day:  Just because you're sitting  in a garage doesn't mean you're an automobile.


It's too hot for a heavy meal, but how about a little food for thought? The following is loosely based on a story written by  James Agreey, entitled The Parable of the Eagle.

While traipsing through the woods one day, a farmer happened upon an eaglet, which he scooped up and carried home with him. He secured the young bird in the barnyard with his chickens, and before long, the eagle learned how to walk and squawk like a chicken, and to peck chicken feed from the ground.

A naturalist stopped by one day and demanded to know why the king of birds was confined to a barnyard and scratching around in it like a common chicken. The farmer claimed the bird was now a chicken. He'd been raised like a chicken and never taught to fly, so he was, in fact,  no longer an eagle. But (naturally) the naturalist insisted the bird still had the heart of an eagle, and could surely be taught to fly. And should be. Finally, the farmer agreed to let the naturalist try.

The naturalist picked up the eagle, and told him, "You're meant to be the king of the sky. Stretch forth your wings and fly!"

But the eagle was frightened. He looked back at all his chicken friends pecking corn from the ground, and jumped down to join them.

The next day, the naturalist tried again, and took the eagle up to the roof. Again, he told him, "You're an eagle, the king of the skies. Stretch forth your wings and fly!"

But once again, the frightened bird jumped back down to the safety of the chicken yard.

The third day, the naturalist carried the bird to a nearby mountain. He held the eagle high above him, and said, "You are an eagle, the king of the skies. Spread forth your wings, and fly!"

The bird hesitated at first. He looked back toward the farm, back to the only life he knew. Then he trembled, stretched his mighty wings, and with a triumphant cry, soared into the sky.

It's possible the eagle sometimes misses the chickens; he may even visit the barnyard once in a while for old time's sake. But as far as anyone knows, he's still living as an eagle, the king of the skies.
*****

How about you? Are you still hanging around in the barnyard because you're too frightened to stretch your wings? Never let someone else's definition of you and your capabilities prevent you from trying. Because, you too, are an eagle, and you owe it to yourself to fly. Schoolchildren aren't the only ones with untapped potential.
*****

                                                         
Before we go on to the Weird News Stories of the Week, let's take a glimpse at a couple other items worth mentioning:


  • Don't get too comfortable with the fact that the Apocalypse didn't happen on May 21, because now preacher Harold Camping says he merely miscalculated. Now he says the big day to end all big days is coming on October 21.
  • Residents of Cordova, Alabama are struggling to put their lives back together following the tornadoes that destroyed so many of their homes, but their I-sincerely-doubt-if-he'll-be-reelected mayor has opted to heap insult on top of their injuries. He just said NO to the temporary housing offered by FEMA's mobile homes. Says they're single-wide, and according to local ordinance, illegal within their city limits. Guess he doesn't have a problem with people living in tents.
  • For those of you writing e-books, the New York Times now has a separate listing on their best sellers' lists for e-books. Sounds rather encouraging, don't you think?
  • I'm not Jewish, but a recent story in the newspaper about a special bat mitzvah ceremony held  in the Atlanta area caught my eye. Traditionally, this is a coming-of-age ceremony for 13-year-old girls, but the women participating in this particular ceremony ranged in age from their early 40s to early 80s. For whatever reason, they were unable to come of age when they were youngsters, but after completing an intense year of study, these women proved it's never too late to soar. 
OK, here we go, the WEIRD STORIES OF THE WEEK:

***  While enjoying an airboat ride on the Suwannee River in Florida, a young lady unexpectedly crossed paths with a sturgeon. And lost. The sturgeon, between five and six feet long, and weighing approximately seventy pounds, jumped out of the water and into the boat, and unfortunately, broke the damsel's leg in the process. Although some tried to characterize the encounter as as "attack", it wasn't. Nothing personal, lady. Sturgeons jump. That's what they do. Three days earlier, the state issued a warning about the potential danger posed to boaters by jumping sturgeon, but now I'm thinking ...  maybe the sturgeon general should've issued one, too.

*** Another Florida story, and this one's about a St. Lucie couple who are serious about their shooting. Most people have a TV in their bedroom, but this couple upped the ante considerably. They have a wood and metal target inside their bedroom closet. Handy when there's nothing good on TV, I suppose. Anyway, neighbors called the police on this freqently fighting couple recently, and when police arrived, the wife said she fired an AR-15 rifle at the target in her future ex-husband's bedroom, missed, killed a washing machine, and accidentally flooded the place. Yes, a considerable amount of alcohol allegedly led to the death of the innocent washing machine.

*** The final story is from Lithuania, where an online survey held by a local radio station indicated Lithuanian men felt the need for a day set aside to honor them. So, the station obliged. They declared a National Men's Day, and to commemorate the auspicious occasion, hosted an unusual swimming competition. Inflatable sex dolls were used as rafts. More than two hundred men registered, but only twenty were selected to participate. And that .... is all I'm gonna say about THAT!

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. 


Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Drivel from a Ditzy Dizzy Dame

Thought for the day:  The trouble with bucket seats is everybody doesn't have the same sized bucket.


Is the world spinning, or is it just me?
I never much cared for rides that spin you around. I dunno; maybe I inherited my poor grandmother's propensity for sea sickness, but what I do know is I don't like that nauseating feeling of being wobbly and off-balance. But I AM learning to live with it.

For more than a month, I've been fighting tinnitus and vertigo.What cracks me up is that one of the side effects of the medication the doctor prescribed is  ... dizziness. Swell, right? So, while most people have to imbibe multiple adult beverages to lurch around the room like a fool, all I have to do is stand up. Essentially, I'm getting the buzz without the booze. So, at least for now, I truly am a dizzy dame. And feeling rather ditzy, to boot. So if I ramble even more than usual today, sorry 'bout that.

Here we are, the first day of June. We surpassed ninety degrees multiple times in May, and today's supposed to be the hottest day so far this year. So, I ask you ... HOW

IS IT ????



  • Chickens are laying hard-cooked eggs.
  • Hot water is coming out of both taps.
  • Birds are using pot holders to get worms out of the ground.
  • The worms are crunchy.
  • Cows are giving evaporated milk.
  • Seat belt buckles can double as branding irons.
  • Sun tea can be made instantly.
  • Parking lot asphalt is sticky.
  • Trees are whistling for the dogs.
In spite of the heat, we'll be using our new charcoal grill today. And it's all our son-in-law's fault.

A couple weeks ago, he promised us the best pork chops we'd ever eaten in our entire lives. And he delivered. Big time. So much so that we went to Wally World and bought a charcoal grill just so we could reproduce them at home. And tonight's the night. 

And, what's more, I'm going to tell YOU the secrets to making these fabulous chops! Believe me, they will be the BEST, I promise you, the BEST you've ever tasted. The recipe came from the pages of the August, 2009 Cook's illustrated magazine. The magazine calls them, "Really Good Grill-Smoked Pork Chops", but they lie. NOT "really good." The B-E-S-T. 
  • Grill preparation: You'll want a disposable aluminum pan (or something similar) in the center of your grill, with hot coals on either side of it. (So you'll have HOT sections on the sides, and a COOLER section in the middle.)  Soak 2 cups of wood chips, (preferably hickory) for about 30 minutes, and then place the chips onto the hot charcoal. Put your grate in place, and then close the lid until the grate is hot and the chips are smoking. (about 5 minutes)
  • You'll need rib chops, approximately 1 1/2 inches thick. (Don't trim the fat!)
  • Rub the chops with salt/ pepper mix and pass two skewers through the loin muscle of each chop, and then space them about an inch apart on the skewers. (The idea is to be able to stand your chops up on the grill, bone-side down, and to allow the smoke to circulate through them.)
  • Once the grate is hot and the chips are smoking, place skewered chops, bone-side down, in the center of your grill, right above the aluminum pan. Cover, and cook approximately 30 minutes.
  • Remove chops from grill so you can take out the skewers. Brush one side of chops with sauce, then place them, sauce side down, over the hot charcoal. Cook, uncovered, for 2-4 minutes. Brush sauce on topside, then turn to sear other side over the hot charcoal for additional 2-4 minutes.
  • Remove from grill and tent with aluminum foil, allowing meat to rest for five minutes.
  • ENJOY!!!!!
  • SAUCE: I suppose you could use whatever your favorite sauce is, but here's the recommended recipe: 1/2 cup catsup; 1/4 cup mild molasses; 2 T grated onion; 2 T Worcestershire sauce; 2 T Dijon mustard; 2 T cider vinegar; 1 T brown sugar. Combine ingredients in a small saucepan and simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 5-7 minutes. (until it reaches a catsup-like consistency) Set 1/2 cup of it aside to serve at the table. The rest, for the grilling itself.

Oh man, now I've got pork chops on my mind. They are sooooo good. Charred crust, rosy-pink moist meat, and a true smoky flavor. Try 'em. If you like pork chops, I guarantee, you will LOVE these. 

I reckon this is enough disjointed babble for one day. Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. I believe I'm gonna go make some BBQ sauce.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Remembrance

Thought for the day:  One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people.


Well, are you ready for the big three-day weekend, America's unofficial start of summer? Ready for your first big cook-out of the season? Bought all your food, your booze, and have the swimming pool ready to go? Got those white shoes dusted off and back at the front of your closet? Your shopping list ready to take advantage of all those big sales?

Got everything done on your to-do list? Forgetting anything? Anything at all?


Some people consider Memorial Day to be our most important national holiday, but to others, it's nothing but  another three-day weekend filled with sales and cook-outs.

John Moon, the former commander-in-chief of the VFW, said

 Sacrifice is meaningless without remembrance. America's collective consciousness demands that all citizens recall and be aware of the deaths of their fellow countrymen during wartime. Far too often, the nation as a whole takes for granted the freedoms Americans enjoy. Those freedoms were paid for with the lives of others few of us actually knew. That's why they are all collectively remembered for one special day.

Memorial Day.

 A memorial is something that keeps remembrance alive. Let's all of us, in the midst of our cooking out, and in the midst of our shopping and having a grand old time this weekend, remember all of those men and women who made the supreme sacrifice.



Those are the four words engraved on the Korean War Memorial in Washington, D.C.  And here is a poem with that same title, "Freedom is Not Free,"  written in 1988 by Air Force ROTC Cadet Major Kelly Strong:

                                              I watched the flag pass by one day.
                                              It fluttered in the breeze.
                                             A young Marine saluted it,
                                             And then he stood at ease.

                                             I looked at him in uniform
                                             So young, so tall, so proud,
                                             With hair cut square and eyes alert,
                                             He'd stand out in any crowd.

                                              I thought how many men like him
                                             Had fallen through the years.
                                             How many died on foreign soil?
                                             How many mothers' tears?

                                             How many pilots' planes shot down?
                                             How many died at sea?
                                             How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
                                             No, freedom is not free.

                                             I heard the sound of "taps" one night,
                                            When everything was still.
                                             I listened to the bugler play
                                            And felt a sudden chill.

                                             I wondered just how many times
                                             That "taps" had meant "Amen,"
                                             When a flag had draped a coffin
                                             Of a brother or a friend.

                                             I thought of all the children,
                                            Of the mothers and the wives,
                                            Of fathers, sons and husbands
                                            With interrupted lives.

                                            I thought about a graveyard
                                           At the bottom of the sea,
                                           Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
                                           No, freedom is not free.

Vietnam memorial
As an amateur radio operator, I've also had the privilege of serving as a member of  Army MARS. (Military Affiliate Radio Service) For Memorial Day one year, the Chief shared a story with us about a Captain who was stuck in traffic at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. It was pouring rain, and this captain was growing increasingly more agitated because he was running late, and knew he'd never make it to PT on time. Just as traffic was finally starting to move, the vehicle in front of him stopped, and a private jumped out into the pouring rain and ran into the Memorial Grove beside them.

What a bonehead! the captain thought.

Horns were honking, and the captain, as well as everyone else behind him, were fuming. Still, the private kept going, with his BDUs soaked and plastered to his skin. He ran up to one of the memorial plaques, picked up the small American flag that had fallen to the ground, and set it back up again. Then he came to attention and saluted, before running back to his car and driving off.

The captain later said, "That soldier, whose name I'll never know, taught me more about duty, honor, and respect than a hundred books or a thousand lectures. That simple salute - that simple act of honoring his fallen brother and his flag - encapsulated all the Army values in one gesture for me. It said I will never forget. I will keep the faith. I will keep the mission. I am an American soldier."


We may not be soldiers, but the least we can do is remember them, a very small effort for those who are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. The picture above is of the familiar Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., but most states also have memorials in honor of our Vietnam vets. The one in Springfield, Illinois, includes the following words:  To those who died, honor and eternal rest; to those still in bondage, remembrance and hope; to those who returned, gratitude and peace.


One last comment about Memorial Day. It also happens to be my brother's birthday. He's a retired Marine, who served multiple tours of duty in Vietnam. So to him, I wish a very happy birthday, as well as gratitude and peace.


Happy Birthday, big brother.  Semper fi

Enjoy your three-day weekend, all. Until next time, please take care of yourselves. And each other.