Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, New York born British politician, will take on his new role of Prime Minister tomorrow afternoon. But first, he became (I’m pretty sure), the first member of the British Conservative Party to work the honorific, “dude,” into a political speech. May we live in interesting times.
Month: July 2019
A Man, A Horse, and a Missionary Woman
The events related here took place a little over seventy years ago. They tell the story of a man and his horse. Together. Alone in the bush. The man, very ill. And afraid. The horse, very tired. He was probably afraid, too. And they tell the story of the extraordinarily brave woman who saved them both.… Continue reading A Man, A Horse, and a Missionary Woman
Friday Food and Drink Post: Snacks ‘N ‘At
Actually, I probably should have phrased the title of this post “Weird Snacks ‘N ‘At.” The “‘N ‘At” part is an homage to my nearest (and dearest) metropolitan area, the place I go on the rare occasions when I put on grown-up clothes and shoes, do something about my face, hands and hair (starting with, most unusually,… Continue reading Friday Food and Drink Post: Snacks ‘N ‘At
Friday Food and Drink Post: The Water of Life
It’s not like this subject hasn’t been discussed before, but this seems like an apt weekend to bring it up again, as it’s the second weekend in July, and therefore time for the annual Whiskey Rebellion Festival in the nearby town of Washington, PA. So it’s a good excuse (not that I ever need much of… Continue reading Friday Food and Drink Post: The Water of Life
Occasional Quote of the Day: “Historia Calamitatum”
The title of this post may look like rather esoteric, bluestocking, or even erotic clickbait, but there’s nothing to that theory. It’s not a feminist take on the story of poor Peter Abelard, and no guy ends up minus an essential piece of equipment at the end of it. No. It’s just a rumination on one… Continue reading Occasional Quote of the Day: “Historia Calamitatum”
Not the Friday Food and Drink Post. Not a Post About Beer
Instead, it’s a post about something called “Fool’s Gold Imperial Peanut Butter Hefeweizen,” which I saw in the cooler while picking up my weekly six-pack at the local Giant Eagle. I don’t know what in the Wide World of Sports that is. But I’m very clear about one thing. It ain’t beer.
Banned in Boston. Oh, Wait. I mean “Restricted on Ravelry.”
It doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it? I mean, we all know what “banned” means. It means you’re toast. Your goose is cooked. You’re fried. (The following interlude is brought to you by the Nasty Little Man Who Sits On My Shoulder, and who keeps whispering: “Remember, this is 2019, and thou art… Continue reading Banned in Boston. Oh, Wait. I mean “Restricted on Ravelry.”