It’s not on the traditional list of first words that you listen for when a baby starts talking; ‘Mama’, ‘Dada’, ‘No’ etc., etc. “More” isn’t one of those developmental milestone-words that Grandparents everywhere are asking about. (”Did the little bumpkins say ‘More’ yet?”) But couple a very clear pronunciation of the word “More” at dinnertime with pounding fists on the highchair and you know the kid not only knows the word but how to use it.
He’s a Hungry Man, the kind they named the TV dinner after, I know… I know he’s only 20 months old and he shouldn’t really be Hungry Man hungry, but he is. Judge for yourself: He ate three slices of roast pork (twice what I ate) four servings of sliced cooked carrots (call it a cup and a half) and a half cup of applesauce. During this dinner, he lowered his mouth nearer the tray of the highchair. This not only enabled some pretty fancy righthanded forkwork, but shortened the trip for the food he gobbled barelefthanded.
He’s not potty-trained, but he does know how to load up a fork: carrot|pork|carrot|pork -or- carrot|carrot|carrot|pork. Use the full length of the tines and finish up with something firm.
One such forkload was devoured with a >snap<. A moment passed before I saw that he was spearing up more dinner with a three-tined fork. He had bitten a tine off the fork. I went for his mouth to retrieve the lost plasticware bit, to no avail. Imagine a loud protest of the “I was eating that!” variety.
Unfazed John washed it all down with fistsful of Jello and my serving of carrots.
When they say “This too shall pass.” they’re right.
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Cheese is a dairy product, a food prone to spoilage. As such, anything marketed and presented to the buying public without the benefit of refrigeration or in an aerosol can is something else entirely.
Originally uploaded by Captoe. The blog you are reading is in the process of a complete redesign. Everything, from the title to the footer is under the microscope.
The first change that I announce is the retirement of the “Chief” as official blog mascot. The blogging team will no longer be referred to as “The Chiefs” and the Chief image will no longer appear on this page.
This image of a turn of the century Yankton Sioux was originally selected as an emblem of inspiration to the writers and fathers in my family. Our past five generations have lived with shared memories of homesteading in the home range of this tribe. It is an essential element of our heritage.
Pressure from groups claiming racism and stereotyping was not a factor in this decision. Threats of sanction and boycott were not heeded. The difficult choice of a replacement mascot will not be based on NCAA rules but on the integrity and values of this blog: Be true. Be firm. Be brief, then shut up.
From the “Strength to carry on” Department comes this news item:
Fork-wielding man attempts holdup: “A man’s attempt to rob a Shreveport convenience store while armed with a fork Wednesday afternoon was foiled by a clerk who waled on him with a baseball bat.”
I’ve posted before about the 3rd Battalion 4th Marines as a unit. Today, many of those Marines are home with family.
Marine Cpl. Dean Sanchez returned home to Colorado and his mothers home cookin’:
Rocky Mountain News: “But before he starts thinking more about the future, he wants to chow down on menudo and green chile. ‘We ate good food out there, but there’s no substitute for home-cooked Mexican food,’ he said”
Felix Doligosa Jr. of the Rocky Mountain News gets extra barking moonbat points for shoehorning Cindy Sheehan into that article, thank you very little Mr. Doligosa.
Marine Cpl. Lyle Stiffarm returned home to Montana:
Great Falls Tribune: “Marine honored at airport Marine Cpl. Lyle Stiffarm came home Wednesday to a smudging ceremony and drummers singing the Honor Song in the Great Falls International Airport.”
If circumstances ever require that I go into deep hiding, say, the witness protection program, or some such thing, I will try to come up with a name that is as cool as “Lyle Stiffarm” and move to Montana.
It is my hope that the rest of the service men and women making their ways home after tours of duty in Iraq are welcomed by family and community with honor, love, respect and home cookin’ similar to what Cpls. Stiffarm and Sanchez found. They would all benefit if the elders of their respective clans each had a way to clearly say the things that the smudging ceremony and the honor song say ‘we welcome home our warrior, we respect your accomplishments, we will heal you.’
Menudo, though, is not for everyone.
The priesthood is full of sinners and the sick, just like the rest of the population.
Priestly celibacy does not cause pedophilia. We’re talking about a sinful abuse of power, a wrenching perversion of sex, and a frightening loss of self control by a man who has willingly taken on the responsibility and power of the collar. If celibacy were the cause, we’d be more willing to let them off: “Poor guy hadn’t had sex in all his 35 years. Must’ve gotten quite a case of the blue balls.” No, that hasn’t been used as a defense has it? We’re not letting anyone off, either.
Priestly marriage would not cure it. Except where the priest-hubby might be just too busy with his honey-do list, I can’t see that marital, adult, consensual, sex has anything at all, beyond the zipper, in common with boffing altar boys.
Call me a radical, a politico, an incendiary or a fundamentalist if you must, but it’s time to take a stand. Lather, rinse: suffice.
“Repeat” is for patsies and pushovers.
Quoting: The Military Family Network at eMilitary.org
“CAMP MERCURY, Iraq (Aug. 7, 2005) — It is the dream of infantry commanders to lead their troops in a combat zone, eliminate the enemy threat and bring their Marines safely home.
As the battalion commander of 3rd Battalion, 4th Marines, Regimental Combat Team-8, Lt. Col. Andrew R. Kennedy was responsible for the well being of more than 1,000 Marines during their deployment to Fallujah, Iraq.
Photo by: Lance Cpl. Paul Robbins Jr..
For Lt. Col. Andrew R. Kennedy, the 40-year-old commanding officer of 3rd Battalion, 4th Marines, Regimental Combat Team-8, that dream is a reality. He credits the Marines and their superb training for this accomplishment.
“Looking at everything we’ve been asked to do, the Marines have done a magnificent job,†said Kennedy, a native of Mt. Vision, N.Y.”
Gordon is a grey squirrel. The little man named him that in the backyard. He pointed at him and said “Gul,DAh!”
He literally dropped in through the ceiling vent of the kids’ bathroom, having chewed through the wires. Presumably, he was seeking shelter from a big ol’ rainstorm Tuesday night. Either that or he just wanted a little privacy and some indoor plumbing for a change.
One roll of TP, one shredded shower curtain, 67 squirrel turds in the bath mat, 34 hours and $150 check made out to “Rodent-Rooter” later and our fat little houseguest is outta here.
