Greetings to all, and welcome new friends to the Mobile East Wing.
One of the neat things ‘bout going on a trip is the anticipation and excitation which comes along as the time of departure approaches. Your world fills up with questions, so many questions, so little time. When ya leaving? Who’s going? What ya taking? Who’s gonna take care of the 2girldogs? More importantly, what ‘bout that Republican Cat? Who’s gonna tell Sophia I’m going away? Will she kill the 2girldogs while I’m gone? What ‘bout the office cats?
In due time all issues are resolved one way or another. By now ya are starting to feel there’s no place like home, but alas, it’s not Dorothy and the Scare Scow or the Tin Man or the Cowardly Lion. It’s John & Jaimie, Regina and BobbyRay and as we step onto the Yellow Brick Road at 800 South, we’re off to see the wizard.
Not even 10 minutes into the trip and we’re south bound and down, loaded up and trucking.
Corn fields as far as ya can see. Empty corn fields from a recently completed harvest. Machines bigger than houses pick over corn fields like chicken bones and when they’re done, only memory of corn remains.
Not too long ago it was not uncommon to see many people in corn fields after the harvest. People with 5 gal. buckets picking up whole ear corn to feed their pigs. There was a family at Toto, when I was a kid, that picked enough ear corn to raise a pig each year. Sometime in the winter they would kill a pig, right there in their yard, kill the pig, cut it up and do all the other stuff ya do with a killed pig. They had a neighbor who would do the same thing with chickens and ducks. Don’t think too many people do that sort of thing in the front yard any more.
Just north Brookston IN we encounter a wind mill farm. Wind turbines producing electricity. Wind mills as far as the eye can see to the west. Hundreds of wind mills, Massive towers atop with sets generators with blades of fiberglass 40ft long, three blades per tower. Electricity from the wind. A site to behold. The man from La Mancha would have met this match in Brookston IN.
Cracker Barrel Restaurant at Lafayette is the place for lunch this day after Christmas. Spent two hours in Lafayette, first having lunch, the looking for a GPS replacement program for my laptop. Lost my GPS uplink device from last year. Don’t know how I lost it, but just did. Course if I did know, it wouldn’t be lost.
Went to three different stores looking for the GPS program. John went into Best Buy, found the program, they had two different ones, $10.00 difference. John got the cheaper of the two. It did not come with the down link device to connect the computer to satellite. But all is not lost, we will swap it out at a Best Buy somewhere down the road.
We leave Lafayette in the snow as the shades of nighttime roll over the day light. The snow’s now completely covering the world as the daytime has gone away. We laugh as we pass a car with all four blinkers going, traveling about 15 mph in the light snow. His licenses identified the car as being from Alabama. We wonder if he may be thinking he is in an Indiana Blizzard.
As we merge into traffic on Interstate 65 it reminds me that this is a part of the Federal Highway System first envisioned by President Eisenhower in his first term in office. His military experiences taught him the importance of being able to move men and material in a most expeditors manner. It was at the insistence of the President that the Federal Highway System came into being. The interstate system was build to move armies and their equipment across this land we call America. One of the little know facts of the Interstate System is in the original laws that created the system was a provision that one mile in every ten be straight. A possible landing strip for military use. Pray to God that need will never arise.
What has occurred with the Interstate System is it allows us to go anywhere at any time in the fastest possible time. It takes us to grandma’s house, on vacation, to town, to visit, to go play, to Wal-Mart.
Every great society has survived a great deal in part due to the fact that they developed a road system within their country. From time to time you’ll see reference to the great engineering feats of the Egyptians, but the one thing ya never see is any reference to Egyptian road building. It seems odd to me that these people could build such complex things as pyramids and not build roads. I’m not sure they built the pyramids it they were too dumb to build roads. How’d all those slaves get to work every morning without roads?
The real road builders were the Romans. A part of Roman Road Technology still exist to this day in our society. The Romans built roads of stone to all ends of their empire. The empire was controlled much in part by the ability of the Roman Army to march unimpeded to wherever they needed to be. Along with the foot solders rolled the chariots on this road of stone.. After hundreds and hundreds of years the chariot rims wore an impression into the stone. This impression measured 4 ft. 6 1/2 inches.
When railroads first came into existence a standard unit of measure was needed to keep the rails the same distance all over the world. The most widely recognized unit of measure of this type distance was the distance between the Roman Chariot wheels, 4 ft 6 ½ inches. Used to this day on every standard size railroad in the world. It’s called the “gauge” the distance from center to center of the rail. There’s a narrow gauge railroad system, but it’s very limited in use and not well known outside railroad circles.
Midway between Indianapolis and Louisville, the snow has ended with no prospect of snow in front of us. Not much fun traveling at night, but out of necessity ya do what ya gotta do. If I wasn’t such a wimp we could fly down to Hilton Head Island in three hours or so, I am, so we drive. I don’t fly well, figured if God wanted me to fly, I’d have feathers, I don’t, so I don’t.
Now I know that some of you will laugh at me for my fear of flying. So don’t quote me statics that it’s is so much safer to fly than drive, that many more people die driving than flying. Ya know, statics can prove or disprove anything. An example being that more people have died on this earth than are now alive. So I want to go with latter more so than the former.
In the East Wing we open presents late on Christmas Eve. For Christmas this year, my son John , got his sister, Angela, an Obama Lava Lamp. Angela loved the Lava Lamp. She turned it on and after a short warm up, the lava rolled. Everyone enjoyed the lamp except, as you may expect, Sophia The Republican Cat. She cussed it out in cat. She brought up her contention that Obama had visited her Cat House in Chicago looking for a good time. Made reference to his friendship with Tiger Woods, and how they used to hang out, Then I suspect, sometime in the night she may have peed on the Lava Lamp. Now I’m not sure ‘bout that but she sure smiled a lot on Christmas Day when anyone said anything ‘bout the Obama Lava Lamp. Sophia has that little smile that seems to say “I got ya, and ya don’t even know it……..yet” I did notice this morning the base of the lava lamp seemed a little different color than last night, but maybe it’s just the different light, yet she sure is smiling a lot today, every time someone says lava lamp. Until today, I didn’t know that cats could chuckle. Damn Republican Cat.
One of the things that always crosses my mind when I travel on the Interstate Highways is where are all these people going. Then I wonder if they think the same thing ‘bout me. It just seems I’ve always had such good justification for my being here on the road, while I wonder ‘bout the justification of those coming toward me, not to mention those I pass going the same way as me.
Louisville at night for a country boy looks like a living Christmas Tree. All big cities are pretty in the dark, with all the lights. Not so much in the daylight. Too much social decay, warts and bumps to be pretty in the daylight.
Darkness tends to make pretty , not only to big cities, little cities as well, darkness works it’s magic in the country side also. Often the most enjoyable time of the day in the East Wing is after the shades of evening are drawn. It’s the time of day that Pup Baby likes me to tell her stories. Her favorite story is the Lady and the Tramp. The Pup Baby likes romantic romance stories.
Sophia’s favorite story is Ole Yellow, she particularly likes that part where the old dog dies. She always ask that I tell that part twice. Cats do smile when they’re happy.
Kentucky is being traversed in the darkness this cloudy night. As we prepare to complete our journey cross the Blue Grass side of Kentucky, Mammoth Cave appears on the information road signs, and just as quickly disappears behind me into the night. Even though we are on the west side of Kentucky, with much less mountains than eastern Kentucky, in the darkness we’re unable to even see the rock on the sides of the road. Ya miss a lot when ya travel at night.
We spent the night along the way in a nice little motel somewhere in southern Tennessee. Upon leaving the motel in the morning I was so surprised to find we were on the top of a mountain. No sooner did we get on the interstate than we see a sign saying 6% grade for the next 5 miles. Now those who may not be familiar with mountains and steep roads. I’m telling ya a 6% down grade is steep. A 6% grade going up is just as steep.
It’s Sunday morning and we’re approaching Chattanooga TN 25 miles in front of us on Interstate 24. Last night we were talking ‘bout the Interstate Highway System, one easy way to tell which general direction you’re going is that all even number interstate roads run east and west, while all odd numbered roads run in the general direction of north and south.
As I went through Atlanta this afternoon, I gawked with the best of ‘em. Pretty big city, Atlanta GA, from the Interstate at 70 mph. Traffic jam north of Atlanta took some of the fun out of the trip, but only as long as we sat in traffic. We are now on our way from Atlanta to Savannah. Interstate 16 closely parallels General Sherman’s march to the sea during the Civil War after he had pretty much destroyed Atlanta.
I have always been interested in General Sherman as a historical figure, and as such have read a great deal of what has been written about General Sherman. Contrary to what happened in the movie Gone With the Wind, General Sherman did not burn Atlanta to the ground. What his army did do was to destroy the rail way system in Atlanta. Not only did they burn the railroad ties, they bent the rails over the fires so they could never be used again. I’m a little disappointed that part of this section of the trip’s in the darkness, ‘cause this is really good country to gawk at.
Got to Hilton Head Island late Sunday night, much too late to do anything except crash, and so I did. I’m excited about the upcoming week. I’ll walk in the ocean tomorrow. I’ll let ya know.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan
I wish you well
BobbyRay, Wondering if Sophia peed on the Obama Lava Lamp, Leaving Home in the Snow, Arriving at Hilton Head Island NC
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
From the East Wing in the Tropics, Capricorn & Cancer, Twelve Different Days of Christmas, The Fat Czar
Greeting and welcome to my new friends in the East Wing.
As the days continue to grow shorter, and the official start of winter is rapidly approaching, I’m looking forward to that precise moment of the 2009 Winter Solstice. It’s tomorrow, Monday the 21st at 11:47 PM CST.
Ya’d think something as important as the official start of winter would have a special allotted amount of time so everybody could get into the festivities, but nooooo! A slice of time, only a slice of time so thin ya can’t even see it. So thin, by the time it takes to say winter, it’s occurred and spring, summer and fall are all forever frozen into the back roads of the memories of 2009. An interesting note on winter is that it’s the only season stretching across into a new year. Winter can correctly be referred to as the winter of 2008-2009 or this upcoming winter of 2009 – 2010.
The real noticeable thing ‘bout winter starting up is what happens with the sun’s path across the sky. The winter solstice occurs either December 21 or 22, when the sun shines directly over the tropic of Capricorn. The summer solstice occurs either June 20 or 21, when the sun shines directly over the tropic of Cancer. In the Southern Hemisphere, the winter and summer solstices are reversed, so the folks in South America are getting ready to start summer as we get ready to start winter. The reason it’s not the very same day each year like Christmas is the 25th of December, or your birthday being the same every year, has to do with the earth’s rotation round the sun and that trip not being exact 365 days each and every time. So very once in a while we have to use a makeup day. That Feb. 29th thing is a makeup day.
There are three imaginary lines running across the surface of the earth. The equator, the Tropic of Cancer, and the Tropic of Capricorn. While the equator is the longest line of latitude on the earth (the line where the earth is widest in an east-west direction), the tropics are based on the sun's position in relation to the earth at two points of the year.
The equator is located at zero degrees latitude. The equator runs through Indonesia, Ecuador, northern Brazil, the Congo, and Kenya, among other places. Another way to remember the equator is, that if the earth had a belly button, the equator would be right ‘round there. It’s just a 100 miles or so shy of 25,000 miles all the way around the earth. Now that’s a long way, I could go from the East Wing to Chicago and back over 100 times and still not get that many miles. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’ve been to Chicago one too many times already and I’m not going another hundred times, that’s for sure.
On the equator, the sun is directly overhead at noon on the two equinoxes, in March and September. The equator divides the earth into the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.
The Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn each lie at 23.5 degrees latitude. The Tropic of Cancer is located at 23.5° North of the equator and runs through Mexico, the Bahamas, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, India, and southern China. The Tropic of Capricorn lies at 23.5° South of the equator and runs through Australia, Chile, southern Brazil.
The tropics are the two lines where the sun is directly overhead at noon on the two solstices. In June and December. The sun is directly overhead at noon on the Tropic of Cancer on June 21 (the beginning of summer in the Northern Hemisphere and the beginning of winter in the Southern Hemisphere) and the sun is directly overhead at noon on the Tropic of Capricorn on December 21 (the beginning of winter in the Northern Hemisphere and the beginning of summer in the Southern Hemisphere).
The area bounded by the Tropic of Cancer on the north and Tropic of Capricorn on the south is known as the "tropics." This area does not experience seasons because the sun is always high in the sky. Only higher latitudes, north of the Tropic of Cancer and south of the Tropic of Capricorn, experience seasonal changes in the weather. Such a pity, but ya can never make snow angels in the tropics. Maybe they do ‘em in sand. Bet they don’t even know ‘bout snow angels. Maybe they don’t even know ‘bout snow.
Now after all that whooptee do explanation ‘bout the Tropics, Capricorn and Cancer, it’s not like these lines I’ve described are laid out with a chalk line or painted by one of those line striping trucks spraying that yellow paint down the middle of the road. Did ye ever see one of those idiots who just had to pass that paint truck before the yellow paint dries, and sure enough they mess up the paint, ‘n get it all over the road. I hate when that happens.
These are invisible lines, ya can’t see ‘em, ya either measure with instruments designed to do just such calculations using stars and stuff, or close your eyes and act like ya see ‘em. But all ya really need to know is when the sun gets as far north as it’s gona go, that’s Tropic of Cancer, when the sun gets as far south as it’s gona go, that’s Tropic of Capricorn, and the equator is the line in the middle. Like if the earth had a belly button the equator would run right ‘round there. All that other stuff, well I threw it in there just in case ya thought I’d spent all my time studying foreign languages, and learning to cuss in cat.
With what’s said about the latitude lines and how it’s used to reference the movement of the sun across the sky to identify the change of seasons, it just seems right to say a little something ‘bout longitude. I’m sure someone’s gona say “oh well, here he goes again off on some more crap that don’t makes sense. But I’m telling ya, the longitude lines are like the latitude lines, ‘cept they go east – west rather than north – south. There’s a spot on the world that all time is measured from, it’s on one of those longitude lines. Now that line is real important too, but we’ll save that story for another day.
An easy way to understand latitude and longitude is it’s kinda like the 911 address systems. All such systems have division lines, both north-south and east-west. Once ya learn the division lines, the rest just kinda fills in by its self.
All those little GPS screens ya got plugged in and setting on your dash, looking just sooo cool, well without latitude and longitude as universal units of measuring distance on the Earth, that little toy on the dash would not be there and ya’d still be lost.
Bet the little brown eyed friend of mine, that hummingbird from summer past, she has built in GPS and went to South America for their summertime. Either way, come spring time in the valley, she’ll be back to the East Wing. ‘Cause once in the East Wing, forever destined to return, so she’ll be back, when it’s spring time in the valley. I’m sure if her GPS got her down there, it’ll bring her back. I’m already looking forward to seeing her.
Did ya ever wonder how leaping lords, French hens, swimming swans, and especially the partridge who won't come out of the pear tree have anything to do with Christmas?
Well there was about a 300 year period that Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to practice their faith openly. It had to do with the English King getting mad at the Pope. Now when you’re the king ya can do mean things to people and get away with it. Somebody during that time wrote a carol as a catechism song for young Catholics. It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of their church. Each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality which the children could remember.
-The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus Christ.
-Two turtle doves are the Old and New Testaments.
-Three French hens stand for faith, hope and love.
-The four calling birds are the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.
-The five golden rings represent the Torah or Law, the first five books of the Old Testament.
-The six geese a-laying stand for the six days of creation.
-Seven swans a-swimming represents the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit--Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.
-The eight maids a-milking are the eight beatitudes.
-Nine ladies dancing are the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit--Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.
-The ten lords a-leaping are the ten commandments.
-The eleven pipers piping stand for the eleven faithful disciples.
-The twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.
So there’s your history lesson for today. This little goodie was shared with me and I found it both interesting and enlightening, and now you too know how that strange little song became a Christmas Carol.
We don’t sing that carol at SS Cyril & Methodius Catholic Church in North Judson, but I think we’re more Bohemian than English. I think there’re some Pollock’s in there too. Plus the hillbillies, Wow ! A universal church right here in town, who’d thought it, and a Catholic Church at that. Oh, that’s right “Catholic” means universal church, now I get it, that’s the way it was meant to be all the time.
Before we talk again Christmas will have come and gone for this year 2009, and I’ll be on my way to Hilton Head Island SC. The day after Christmas, my son John, his wife, Jamie, the 1wife and I are off for a week or so into warmer surroundings. We will walk beside the ocean, pull off our shoes and step into the water, even if it’s cold, we still will, ‘cause when you’re hillbilly and walk beside the ocean, that’s just what ya do. We went to Hilton Head last year, and been looking forward to going back for a year, come next Saturday, we’re on our way. I’m looking forward to hugging my sisters, spending time with my family, leaving footprints in the sand.
Think I’ll take my laptop and write along the way, so ya may hear from me come next Sunday somewhere between here and there sounding like a travel brochure. One of the fun things ‘bout traveling any distance is stopping at the Cracker Barrels. Love those places. Same food every time, no surprises there, ya always know what it gona taste like. I’m not big on eating stuff I don’t know on a first name basis.
One thing ‘bout us hillbillies, we tend to be meat and potatoes eaters. But I do draw the line on some things, examples being, I don’t eat anything that swims, filters, pumps, thinks, or reproduces. I’m a carnivore and damn proud of it, but some things are just not right for me to eat. Now I’m not speaking for all hillbillies, but for me, I just never added those things to the list of what for supper. It won’t surprise me at all if this week I get a dozen receipts for my banned menu items.
Talk ‘bout meat eating reminded me of an article I read recently which identified the latest research on weight gain and the consumption of fat in the diet. Folks that love fat, gona love this. Eating fat has no real impact on the amount of weight gain over a period of time. So all ya fat lovers who visit the East Wing, “getter dun” So fat not bad, not good, but not bad. This sounds like something the Federal Government needs to get involved in. I can just see it now, the President appoints a Fat Czar. Which we probably need with those fat cats in Washington and all.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan.
From the East Wing, In the Tropics, Capricorn and Cancer, Twelve Different Days of Christmas, The Fat Czar
I wish you well.
BobbyRay
As the days continue to grow shorter, and the official start of winter is rapidly approaching, I’m looking forward to that precise moment of the 2009 Winter Solstice. It’s tomorrow, Monday the 21st at 11:47 PM CST.
Ya’d think something as important as the official start of winter would have a special allotted amount of time so everybody could get into the festivities, but nooooo! A slice of time, only a slice of time so thin ya can’t even see it. So thin, by the time it takes to say winter, it’s occurred and spring, summer and fall are all forever frozen into the back roads of the memories of 2009. An interesting note on winter is that it’s the only season stretching across into a new year. Winter can correctly be referred to as the winter of 2008-2009 or this upcoming winter of 2009 – 2010.
The real noticeable thing ‘bout winter starting up is what happens with the sun’s path across the sky. The winter solstice occurs either December 21 or 22, when the sun shines directly over the tropic of Capricorn. The summer solstice occurs either June 20 or 21, when the sun shines directly over the tropic of Cancer. In the Southern Hemisphere, the winter and summer solstices are reversed, so the folks in South America are getting ready to start summer as we get ready to start winter. The reason it’s not the very same day each year like Christmas is the 25th of December, or your birthday being the same every year, has to do with the earth’s rotation round the sun and that trip not being exact 365 days each and every time. So very once in a while we have to use a makeup day. That Feb. 29th thing is a makeup day.
There are three imaginary lines running across the surface of the earth. The equator, the Tropic of Cancer, and the Tropic of Capricorn. While the equator is the longest line of latitude on the earth (the line where the earth is widest in an east-west direction), the tropics are based on the sun's position in relation to the earth at two points of the year.
The equator is located at zero degrees latitude. The equator runs through Indonesia, Ecuador, northern Brazil, the Congo, and Kenya, among other places. Another way to remember the equator is, that if the earth had a belly button, the equator would be right ‘round there. It’s just a 100 miles or so shy of 25,000 miles all the way around the earth. Now that’s a long way, I could go from the East Wing to Chicago and back over 100 times and still not get that many miles. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’ve been to Chicago one too many times already and I’m not going another hundred times, that’s for sure.
On the equator, the sun is directly overhead at noon on the two equinoxes, in March and September. The equator divides the earth into the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.
The Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn each lie at 23.5 degrees latitude. The Tropic of Cancer is located at 23.5° North of the equator and runs through Mexico, the Bahamas, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, India, and southern China. The Tropic of Capricorn lies at 23.5° South of the equator and runs through Australia, Chile, southern Brazil.
The tropics are the two lines where the sun is directly overhead at noon on the two solstices. In June and December. The sun is directly overhead at noon on the Tropic of Cancer on June 21 (the beginning of summer in the Northern Hemisphere and the beginning of winter in the Southern Hemisphere) and the sun is directly overhead at noon on the Tropic of Capricorn on December 21 (the beginning of winter in the Northern Hemisphere and the beginning of summer in the Southern Hemisphere).
The area bounded by the Tropic of Cancer on the north and Tropic of Capricorn on the south is known as the "tropics." This area does not experience seasons because the sun is always high in the sky. Only higher latitudes, north of the Tropic of Cancer and south of the Tropic of Capricorn, experience seasonal changes in the weather. Such a pity, but ya can never make snow angels in the tropics. Maybe they do ‘em in sand. Bet they don’t even know ‘bout snow angels. Maybe they don’t even know ‘bout snow.
Now after all that whooptee do explanation ‘bout the Tropics, Capricorn and Cancer, it’s not like these lines I’ve described are laid out with a chalk line or painted by one of those line striping trucks spraying that yellow paint down the middle of the road. Did ye ever see one of those idiots who just had to pass that paint truck before the yellow paint dries, and sure enough they mess up the paint, ‘n get it all over the road. I hate when that happens.
These are invisible lines, ya can’t see ‘em, ya either measure with instruments designed to do just such calculations using stars and stuff, or close your eyes and act like ya see ‘em. But all ya really need to know is when the sun gets as far north as it’s gona go, that’s Tropic of Cancer, when the sun gets as far south as it’s gona go, that’s Tropic of Capricorn, and the equator is the line in the middle. Like if the earth had a belly button the equator would run right ‘round there. All that other stuff, well I threw it in there just in case ya thought I’d spent all my time studying foreign languages, and learning to cuss in cat.
With what’s said about the latitude lines and how it’s used to reference the movement of the sun across the sky to identify the change of seasons, it just seems right to say a little something ‘bout longitude. I’m sure someone’s gona say “oh well, here he goes again off on some more crap that don’t makes sense. But I’m telling ya, the longitude lines are like the latitude lines, ‘cept they go east – west rather than north – south. There’s a spot on the world that all time is measured from, it’s on one of those longitude lines. Now that line is real important too, but we’ll save that story for another day.
An easy way to understand latitude and longitude is it’s kinda like the 911 address systems. All such systems have division lines, both north-south and east-west. Once ya learn the division lines, the rest just kinda fills in by its self.
All those little GPS screens ya got plugged in and setting on your dash, looking just sooo cool, well without latitude and longitude as universal units of measuring distance on the Earth, that little toy on the dash would not be there and ya’d still be lost.
Bet the little brown eyed friend of mine, that hummingbird from summer past, she has built in GPS and went to South America for their summertime. Either way, come spring time in the valley, she’ll be back to the East Wing. ‘Cause once in the East Wing, forever destined to return, so she’ll be back, when it’s spring time in the valley. I’m sure if her GPS got her down there, it’ll bring her back. I’m already looking forward to seeing her.
Did ya ever wonder how leaping lords, French hens, swimming swans, and especially the partridge who won't come out of the pear tree have anything to do with Christmas?
Well there was about a 300 year period that Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to practice their faith openly. It had to do with the English King getting mad at the Pope. Now when you’re the king ya can do mean things to people and get away with it. Somebody during that time wrote a carol as a catechism song for young Catholics. It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of their church. Each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality which the children could remember.
-The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus Christ.
-Two turtle doves are the Old and New Testaments.
-Three French hens stand for faith, hope and love.
-The four calling birds are the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.
-The five golden rings represent the Torah or Law, the first five books of the Old Testament.
-The six geese a-laying stand for the six days of creation.
-Seven swans a-swimming represents the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit--Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.
-The eight maids a-milking are the eight beatitudes.
-Nine ladies dancing are the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit--Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.
-The ten lords a-leaping are the ten commandments.
-The eleven pipers piping stand for the eleven faithful disciples.
-The twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.
So there’s your history lesson for today. This little goodie was shared with me and I found it both interesting and enlightening, and now you too know how that strange little song became a Christmas Carol.
We don’t sing that carol at SS Cyril & Methodius Catholic Church in North Judson, but I think we’re more Bohemian than English. I think there’re some Pollock’s in there too. Plus the hillbillies, Wow ! A universal church right here in town, who’d thought it, and a Catholic Church at that. Oh, that’s right “Catholic” means universal church, now I get it, that’s the way it was meant to be all the time.
Before we talk again Christmas will have come and gone for this year 2009, and I’ll be on my way to Hilton Head Island SC. The day after Christmas, my son John, his wife, Jamie, the 1wife and I are off for a week or so into warmer surroundings. We will walk beside the ocean, pull off our shoes and step into the water, even if it’s cold, we still will, ‘cause when you’re hillbilly and walk beside the ocean, that’s just what ya do. We went to Hilton Head last year, and been looking forward to going back for a year, come next Saturday, we’re on our way. I’m looking forward to hugging my sisters, spending time with my family, leaving footprints in the sand.
Think I’ll take my laptop and write along the way, so ya may hear from me come next Sunday somewhere between here and there sounding like a travel brochure. One of the fun things ‘bout traveling any distance is stopping at the Cracker Barrels. Love those places. Same food every time, no surprises there, ya always know what it gona taste like. I’m not big on eating stuff I don’t know on a first name basis.
One thing ‘bout us hillbillies, we tend to be meat and potatoes eaters. But I do draw the line on some things, examples being, I don’t eat anything that swims, filters, pumps, thinks, or reproduces. I’m a carnivore and damn proud of it, but some things are just not right for me to eat. Now I’m not speaking for all hillbillies, but for me, I just never added those things to the list of what for supper. It won’t surprise me at all if this week I get a dozen receipts for my banned menu items.
Talk ‘bout meat eating reminded me of an article I read recently which identified the latest research on weight gain and the consumption of fat in the diet. Folks that love fat, gona love this. Eating fat has no real impact on the amount of weight gain over a period of time. So all ya fat lovers who visit the East Wing, “getter dun” So fat not bad, not good, but not bad. This sounds like something the Federal Government needs to get involved in. I can just see it now, the President appoints a Fat Czar. Which we probably need with those fat cats in Washington and all.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan.
From the East Wing, In the Tropics, Capricorn and Cancer, Twelve Different Days of Christmas, The Fat Czar
I wish you well.
BobbyRay
Sunday, December 13, 2009
From the East Wing, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, The 2 cat Christmas Tree, and The Flu Bug
Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
My friend in Mississippi who bragged a few days about getting snow this year before I did, is now bragging that he doesn’t have temperatures in the teens and wind chills below zero. That guy’s gona make me mad one of these days, but ya gotta watch out what ya say ‘bout those folks in Mississippi ‘cause they’re all pretty much related. Say a bad word ‘bout one and make ¾ of the whole state mad at ya. Kinda clannish down there. Tight gene pool in Mississippi. Maybe too much cotton, OxyContin, that is.
The white Angel continues to sit either in my lap on in front of the monitor at all times when I occupy the East Wing. It seems any other location and she’s exposed to sudden and unprovoked attack from Sophia. Sophia just can’t get over the idea that the Angel has gone to the “dark side” as she puts it.
Sophia is spending much of her time working on her Red Cat Republican Email Listing. Says she’ll have more emails in her list than those who read my ramblings from the East Wing. Told her I didn’t know there were that many republicans left. Boy did that make her mad.
I can always tell when I’ve made Sophia mad. She hisses at the Pup Baby, slaps at the Angel, tries to bite my ankle and stomps out of the East Wing looking much like the back side of Richard Nixon. She always ends up at the same place, in the Cat House, where she sits in front of her autographed picture of Herbert Hoover and meditates. (damn republican cat)
Last week in the course of a conversation with a client he used a phrase I had heard before but for some reason it seemed to perk my curiosity this time, so I decided to see if I could track down its’ origin.
The phrase "between the devil and the deep blue sea" has been used at least 400 years by the men who sail the ships. The "devil" referred to one of two seams that ran the length of a ship's wooden deck. One was on the inside, closest to the ship's railing, and the other was on the outside, near the waterline of the ship's hull. Those seams, like the rest of the ship's planked deck and frame, had to be regularly caulked to prevent leaks. In high seas, this job could be deadly, with sailors in terrible danger of being washed overboard. Being "the devil to caulk," the seams therefore earned their nickname. The choice "between the devil and the deep blue sea" soon came to mean a selection between two really bad choices.
Knowing nothing about the sailing of boats, I should have asked my brother-in-law Ed, he knows all ‘bout sailing, even had a sailing boat, the kind that goes on the ocean, not the kind that goes on Bass Lake. The number of times I’ve been in a boat can be counted on one hand with fingers to spare. Don’t know how to swim, never lived near any water worth swimming in. The only time I ever spent any time in the water was with Lou when I would be at South Fork. We all played in the waters of South Fork. As a child, South Fork was the best of times.
A couple weeks ago we were talking ‘bout weather watching and forgot to tell ya about how ya can forecast the coming winter weather using a persimmon. Heard this one when I was just a kid, and for some reason it always stuck in my mind. I always wanted to try this one, never did.
All ya need do is cut open a persimmon seed and look at the shape of the kernel inside. If the kernel is spoon-shaped, lots of heavy, wet snow will fall. If it is fork-shaped, ya can expect powdery, light snow and a mild winter. If the kernel is knife-shaped, icy, cutting winds will occur for the next few months.
Now that little ditty is all well and good except one thing, when was the last time ya saw a persimmon? Yap, know what ya mean, me too. It’s been a while. I think there was a Persimmon Tree growing north of Toto when I was a kid, seems like it was owned by a friend of my dad, a man by the name of Green Scutchfield.
One time Green Scutchfield and my dad decided to grow tobacco, there just north of Toto. Now these were two mountain men from southeastern Kentucky who smoked cigarettes so it just seemed natural to grow tobacco. The thought never crossed their minds to see if it was legal to do so.
I don’t remember all the details but do remember hearing them talking ‘bout what a pity it was a man can’t grow his own tobacco without the government telling ‘um what to do. It sure would be interesting to get their prospective on the current state of this country and the socialistic direction the current administration has taken the nation. We the people voted for change. Our nation changed. Did we get what we voted for?
If my memory serves me right, persimmons are ‘bout the size of plums, if ya bite into it before it’s ripe, ya’ll know. The pucker factor is high with unripe persimmons. I know, I did. Ripe, they taste like chicken, no I’m joking, they taste somewhere between plums and dates. When they’re ripe they taste really good, before they’re ripe, they’ll pucker ya to death, almost.
Persimmons were called the “Fruit of the Gods” by the Greeks, but we all know ‘bout the Greeks and their Gods, like they had a God for damn near everything. Kinda reminds me of President Obama and his Czars. As I typed that line, Sophia, from the back of my chair, with her little calico paw patted my shoulder as if to say “good boy”. It doesn’t take a lot to get back into the good graces of a Republican Calico Cat. I love the way that cat smiles when she’s happy.
A few days ago a lady called my office and asked me how I kept my cats out of my Christmas Tree. Told her I don’t, I get the Christmas Tree they sell for people with cats. She’d never heard of that kind. I said “oh sure, I get that kind every year”. Told her I get the 2 cat kind, but they make ‘em all the way up to a 10 cat tree. Said she had 4 cats. She wanted to know where she could get one, I told her most any place that sells Christmas Trees have ‘em but they don’t advertise ‘em so ya gotta ask for it special, ‘cause they usually keep that kind in the back. Just tell ‘em ya want the 4 cat tree. She left the office excited over the prospect of a 4 cat Christmas Tree. Tis the Season.
From the way Sophia handled the Christmas Tree last year I wasn’t too far off. After removing all the ornaments she could reach from the floor, Sophia climbed the tree. Once she discovered the joy of Christmas Tree climbing, it became a daily obsession, each morning, noon and night, run up and down inside the Christmas Tree. We became used to it and hardly paid any attention to Sophia climbing the tree, that is until the Christmas Tree was found, one day after work, tipped over. Just came home one day and the tree was on its side with Sophia wondering ‘round in the branches. Sophia said she didn’t do nothing! It was Mustina! I could tell by looking at Mustina, she didn’t knock over anything, she’s a democrat bird dog, not a tree climbing calico republican cat.
I think this year I will get the 2 cat kind, I’m sure the Angel will have an interest in Christmas Tree climbing this year, it being her first Christmas and all. So I might as well be ready with the 2 cat kind. Maybe the Angel will find something in common with Sophia, politics didn’t work out for them.
It seem the Swine Flu, or the H1N1, or the regular flu or who know what, came to visit both me and the 1wife in the last 48 hours. Tough two days. We continue to be under the weather so to speak. I have spent most of my time in close proximity to the bathroom while Regina is more lucky in that regard and spends her time lying on the couch. When the 1wife’s lying on the couch in the daylight, I know she’s sick.
Mustina must somehow feel compelled to take care of me during this spell of illness, maybe as a payback for the times I’ve devoted the her in her times of need. This little dog has not left my side since Friday at 11:30 PM, when the first symptoms appeared. She’s never followed alongside me every step the way, as she has these last two days. A special friend of me, that Pup Baby James.
I just decided that me and the she must have the regular flu, ‘cause the government said we were too old to get the H1N1 flu, so no shot for you.
Even with a little flu to break up the routine, life is good in the East Wing, the Gray Lady is fast asleep on her couch, Sophia occupies her high spot in the room, that being the back of my chair, the white Angle is in my lap, and the Pup Baby is lying at my side, while the fire place keeps us warm this second Sunday of December.
Your company has been the highlight of my day, as always, thanks for coming by.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, Between the devil and the deep blue sea, the 2 cat Christmas Tree, The Flu Bug.
I wish you well
BobbyRay
My friend in Mississippi who bragged a few days about getting snow this year before I did, is now bragging that he doesn’t have temperatures in the teens and wind chills below zero. That guy’s gona make me mad one of these days, but ya gotta watch out what ya say ‘bout those folks in Mississippi ‘cause they’re all pretty much related. Say a bad word ‘bout one and make ¾ of the whole state mad at ya. Kinda clannish down there. Tight gene pool in Mississippi. Maybe too much cotton, OxyContin, that is.
The white Angel continues to sit either in my lap on in front of the monitor at all times when I occupy the East Wing. It seems any other location and she’s exposed to sudden and unprovoked attack from Sophia. Sophia just can’t get over the idea that the Angel has gone to the “dark side” as she puts it.
Sophia is spending much of her time working on her Red Cat Republican Email Listing. Says she’ll have more emails in her list than those who read my ramblings from the East Wing. Told her I didn’t know there were that many republicans left. Boy did that make her mad.
I can always tell when I’ve made Sophia mad. She hisses at the Pup Baby, slaps at the Angel, tries to bite my ankle and stomps out of the East Wing looking much like the back side of Richard Nixon. She always ends up at the same place, in the Cat House, where she sits in front of her autographed picture of Herbert Hoover and meditates. (damn republican cat)
Last week in the course of a conversation with a client he used a phrase I had heard before but for some reason it seemed to perk my curiosity this time, so I decided to see if I could track down its’ origin.
The phrase "between the devil and the deep blue sea" has been used at least 400 years by the men who sail the ships. The "devil" referred to one of two seams that ran the length of a ship's wooden deck. One was on the inside, closest to the ship's railing, and the other was on the outside, near the waterline of the ship's hull. Those seams, like the rest of the ship's planked deck and frame, had to be regularly caulked to prevent leaks. In high seas, this job could be deadly, with sailors in terrible danger of being washed overboard. Being "the devil to caulk," the seams therefore earned their nickname. The choice "between the devil and the deep blue sea" soon came to mean a selection between two really bad choices.
Knowing nothing about the sailing of boats, I should have asked my brother-in-law Ed, he knows all ‘bout sailing, even had a sailing boat, the kind that goes on the ocean, not the kind that goes on Bass Lake. The number of times I’ve been in a boat can be counted on one hand with fingers to spare. Don’t know how to swim, never lived near any water worth swimming in. The only time I ever spent any time in the water was with Lou when I would be at South Fork. We all played in the waters of South Fork. As a child, South Fork was the best of times.
A couple weeks ago we were talking ‘bout weather watching and forgot to tell ya about how ya can forecast the coming winter weather using a persimmon. Heard this one when I was just a kid, and for some reason it always stuck in my mind. I always wanted to try this one, never did.
All ya need do is cut open a persimmon seed and look at the shape of the kernel inside. If the kernel is spoon-shaped, lots of heavy, wet snow will fall. If it is fork-shaped, ya can expect powdery, light snow and a mild winter. If the kernel is knife-shaped, icy, cutting winds will occur for the next few months.
Now that little ditty is all well and good except one thing, when was the last time ya saw a persimmon? Yap, know what ya mean, me too. It’s been a while. I think there was a Persimmon Tree growing north of Toto when I was a kid, seems like it was owned by a friend of my dad, a man by the name of Green Scutchfield.
One time Green Scutchfield and my dad decided to grow tobacco, there just north of Toto. Now these were two mountain men from southeastern Kentucky who smoked cigarettes so it just seemed natural to grow tobacco. The thought never crossed their minds to see if it was legal to do so.
I don’t remember all the details but do remember hearing them talking ‘bout what a pity it was a man can’t grow his own tobacco without the government telling ‘um what to do. It sure would be interesting to get their prospective on the current state of this country and the socialistic direction the current administration has taken the nation. We the people voted for change. Our nation changed. Did we get what we voted for?
If my memory serves me right, persimmons are ‘bout the size of plums, if ya bite into it before it’s ripe, ya’ll know. The pucker factor is high with unripe persimmons. I know, I did. Ripe, they taste like chicken, no I’m joking, they taste somewhere between plums and dates. When they’re ripe they taste really good, before they’re ripe, they’ll pucker ya to death, almost.
Persimmons were called the “Fruit of the Gods” by the Greeks, but we all know ‘bout the Greeks and their Gods, like they had a God for damn near everything. Kinda reminds me of President Obama and his Czars. As I typed that line, Sophia, from the back of my chair, with her little calico paw patted my shoulder as if to say “good boy”. It doesn’t take a lot to get back into the good graces of a Republican Calico Cat. I love the way that cat smiles when she’s happy.
A few days ago a lady called my office and asked me how I kept my cats out of my Christmas Tree. Told her I don’t, I get the Christmas Tree they sell for people with cats. She’d never heard of that kind. I said “oh sure, I get that kind every year”. Told her I get the 2 cat kind, but they make ‘em all the way up to a 10 cat tree. Said she had 4 cats. She wanted to know where she could get one, I told her most any place that sells Christmas Trees have ‘em but they don’t advertise ‘em so ya gotta ask for it special, ‘cause they usually keep that kind in the back. Just tell ‘em ya want the 4 cat tree. She left the office excited over the prospect of a 4 cat Christmas Tree. Tis the Season.
From the way Sophia handled the Christmas Tree last year I wasn’t too far off. After removing all the ornaments she could reach from the floor, Sophia climbed the tree. Once she discovered the joy of Christmas Tree climbing, it became a daily obsession, each morning, noon and night, run up and down inside the Christmas Tree. We became used to it and hardly paid any attention to Sophia climbing the tree, that is until the Christmas Tree was found, one day after work, tipped over. Just came home one day and the tree was on its side with Sophia wondering ‘round in the branches. Sophia said she didn’t do nothing! It was Mustina! I could tell by looking at Mustina, she didn’t knock over anything, she’s a democrat bird dog, not a tree climbing calico republican cat.
I think this year I will get the 2 cat kind, I’m sure the Angel will have an interest in Christmas Tree climbing this year, it being her first Christmas and all. So I might as well be ready with the 2 cat kind. Maybe the Angel will find something in common with Sophia, politics didn’t work out for them.
It seem the Swine Flu, or the H1N1, or the regular flu or who know what, came to visit both me and the 1wife in the last 48 hours. Tough two days. We continue to be under the weather so to speak. I have spent most of my time in close proximity to the bathroom while Regina is more lucky in that regard and spends her time lying on the couch. When the 1wife’s lying on the couch in the daylight, I know she’s sick.
Mustina must somehow feel compelled to take care of me during this spell of illness, maybe as a payback for the times I’ve devoted the her in her times of need. This little dog has not left my side since Friday at 11:30 PM, when the first symptoms appeared. She’s never followed alongside me every step the way, as she has these last two days. A special friend of me, that Pup Baby James.
I just decided that me and the she must have the regular flu, ‘cause the government said we were too old to get the H1N1 flu, so no shot for you.
Even with a little flu to break up the routine, life is good in the East Wing, the Gray Lady is fast asleep on her couch, Sophia occupies her high spot in the room, that being the back of my chair, the white Angle is in my lap, and the Pup Baby is lying at my side, while the fire place keeps us warm this second Sunday of December.
Your company has been the highlight of my day, as always, thanks for coming by.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, Between the devil and the deep blue sea, the 2 cat Christmas Tree, The Flu Bug.
I wish you well
BobbyRay
Sunday, December 6, 2009
From the East Wing making Snow Cream, Bûche de Noël, and Cussing with Sophia the Republican Cat
Greeting to all and Welcome new friends to the East Wing.
Wow! Did I ever get comments about Marsha Yockey! Seems some people take exception to my claim of having seen the ugliest woman ever. Some of those even provided photographic evidence to support their case. Strong cases indeed, ugliest damn pictures I ever saw.
Based on the photographic evidence, I’ll yield the title of having seen the ugliest woman in the world. Of the pictures I’ve seen, Marsha Yockey is not in the top 10. Still ugly, mind you, but not in the top 10. Not even in the top 10 of ugly, and that’s saying a lot.
The emails had several inquires as to what I was talking ‘bout, “Snow Cream” Ya could just tell they weren’t coal miners’ babies, ‘cause if they were, they’d know ‘bout Snow Cream.
Now in southeastern Kentucky, at TipTop, ya don’t get a lot of snow in the winter time. Rain a lot, considerable ice, fog a lot, but not a lot of snow like here in northern Indiana. So when it did snow in the mountains, it was special.
The most beautiful site I’ve experienced in the mountains was a night drive from Prestonsburg to Paintsville on a 4 lane high speed super highway carved through rock mountains. With a December Full Moon overhead, and an inch of fresh snow on mountains. The whole world appeared as if you had stepped inside a white neon light. Ya could drive at midnight without the lights. Few things in nature can compare to beauty of snow on the mountains in the full moon light. It’s beyond sparkle. A spectacular site to behold. A special treasurer to those who are blessed to see how God decorates his mountains for Christmas. We decorate a tree, he decorates the mountains. I am forever grateful to have seen it one time.
With snow being somewhat scarce, having enough snow for Snow Cream is even more scarce, or scarceser, as any good hillbilly boy would say. In order to make Snow Cream ya had to have at least 5 -6 inches of fresh snow. I don’t know why ya had to have 5-6 inches, that’s just what my mama said. One time I wanted her to make Snow Cream, “No, there’s not enough snow”. Must have been 3-4 inches, but not enough.
But when we did get enough, mama sends me outside into the new snow with the big dish pan and instructions to scoop up the snow but don’t get closer than 2 inches to the ground, and don’t you dare bring in a single speck of dirt in the snow or out it goes, and ya gotta do it again. The excitement is high but ya just know that ya gotta get it right, else I got not only my mama yelling at me, but keep in mind, I live in a family of sisters, so I got them yelling at me too. So I got it right, and the place I got it right is always on Flat Rock.
Flat Rock was a special spot kinda close to the school house, an unusual place, a place that is almost perfectly flat. It’s about maybe a third the size of a football field. There’s no trees, no grass, no dirt, just rock, flat, smooth, granite rock. Smooth from millions and millions of years of mountain rains washing over the surface of Flat Rock. It’s so flat there a marble won’t roll off if ya lay it down, so hard ya can’t break it with a hammer, I tried. We played at Flat Rock a lot. One of the very few places at TipTop that did not go either up or down.
The big dish pan I brought had a one inch brim around the top. It’s the ideal thing for scooping the snow at Flat Rock. Never a worry of scooping too close to the dirt. Just touch the brim to Flat Rock and one giant scoop then off to home. One time running downhill carrying the pan of snow I fell and all the snow flew out, so it’s back to Flat Rock for a second dip of the day. Got that done so fast they didn’t even know I had trouble along the way.
When I got home my mama took the big pan of snow, added some real cold milk, sugar, love, and vanilla then mixed it all up and put it into the freezer to “set”. Now I’m wanting to eat it right then and there but it had “set” I don’t know why, but it had to “set” in the freezer for two hours. That maybe was the longest two hours in the history of the State of Kentucky, waiting for Snow Cream to “set”.
Sometimes I’d go back outside and play in the snow. Go to Flat Rock and make Snow Angels. Play with my dog in the snow. Go play with my cousins, the Cole Gang, Pinto, Paul, and Jr. Just ‘bout every time my mama made Snow Cream all the cousins found out the Snow Cream was setting up in the freezer, and by the time the Snow Cream had “set” there was most always a house full of kids & cousins.
When the two hours finally passed, my mama would count heads, then scoop out the Snow Cream. The most amazing thing was that no matter how many heads were counted, we all got Snow Cream and there was always just enough.
The taste of Snow Cream is so special, remembered to this day. The taste is a combination gift from God, blended with my mama’s love. It’s Snow Cream. When ya were coal miner’s babies ya just didn’t have a lot of material things in life, but ya had Snow Cream and it was enough. We did not want, we had love in our family. We still do.
Good thing Christmas is in December or else it would be a very drab month indeed. Days getting shorter and shorter almost right up to Christmas. Cold and windy, the world has turned gray waiting for the snow to put its white magic blanket over us all. This year the magic blanket is yet to come. While at the same time it snowed last Friday in Mississippi. Got an email from a guy in Mississippi bragging that he got snow before the East Wing. Told him he was two up on me, I didn’t get Katrina either, so I’m glad he’s two up.
Forever people have been determined to brighten this darkest month of the year, December, by creating festivals of light and ceremonies of renewal and stuff like that. This is the month that the sun starts back north, and not a day too soon in the minds of many. For a lot of people it’s not as easy to get excited about cold weather as warm, but oh well, it’s winter that makes spring so special.
December has long since lost its original meaning of “ten” (decem), for the old Roman calendar’s tenth month, and now is more synonymous with “decorate.” The Yule log, evergreens, colored glass ornaments, wassail bowl, and now electricity has crept into Christmas, big time.
Wassail is a hot, spiced punch often associated with Christmas. Particularly popular in Germanic countries, the term itself is a contraction of the Middle English phrase wæs hæil, meaning "be healthy". The practice of wassailing is just going ‘round to everybody’s house and drink this stuff. In Kentucky they did pretty much the same thing, just pronounced it a little different, not Wassail, Moonshine.
A Yule log is a big wooden log which is burned in the fireplace as a part of traditional Yule or Christmas celebrations in several European cultures. It can be a part of the Winter Solstice festival or the Twelve Days of Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or Twelfth Night.
The closest I come to having a Yule Log is my remote controlled, gas fed fireplace in the East Wing. It seems to work out ok so far. This way I don’t have to go out in the cold and chop trees and all that, just push the button and fire happens. I set the fireplace on automatic so the 2girldogs don’t get cold when I’m gone. I think the Gray Lady could work the remote with a little instructions.
The expression "Yule log" has also come to refer to log-shaped Christmas cakes, also known as "chocolate logs" or "Bûche de Noël". I just threw that little tiddy in there just in case anybody wondered if BobbyRay knew a foreign language. So now ya know. For many years my daughter and I made the Bûche de Noël (there I go again) each Christmas Eve day, maybe we’ll make it again this year. It was a fun thing to do with my daughter, Angela.
Another really interesting old English tradition similar to the Yule Log is the Ashen Faggot. Ya may never have heard of this as it’s not nearly as well know at the Yule Log but somewhat similar. The Ashen Faggot thing is where people make a big bundle of sticks and twigs, they go to each other’s house, make a big bond fire, throw in the bundles and drink Wassail. Lots of traditions are associated with this one, has to do with the way the bundle is tied, which tie burns thru first, who in the community will be the next to marry. Now all these traditions have antecedents lost in time and all share a common goal, to make the season bright.
Sure seems like people a long time ago got more information from watching a fire then than we do today, now it seems, we just wonder if a Meth Lab burned the place down.
The more I think about the old Romans jerking ‘round with the calendar, the more I think they must have been democrats, to do something like that. I think the original Monday Holiday idea may have come from Nero, I understand he was a party animal extraordinary, and also big on fireworks. A guy like that would look forward to a three day weekend every chance he got.
This time of the year the 2girldog democrats are about as active as stamps on an envelopes. I think Sophia the Republican Cat has to wake ‘em up to go eat ‘n pee. Good thing Sophia isn’t in Washington, else she’d just let ‘em pee in their sleep.
I thought Sophia and the Angel were becoming the best of buds. That relationship has not yet blossomed. Turns out the Angel wouldn’t convert to the Red Cat Republican Party, so Sophia continues to slap her around from time to time, just to stay in practice, and the cat wars continue. The Angel has figured out that her proximity to me is in direct proportion the her health and safety and overall wellbeing.
When I sit at my computer the Angel lays between my wireless keyboard and the monitor, while at the same time Sophia continues to occupy her favorite spot, that being the back of my chair and when I push back from the keyboard the Angel relocated to my lap. It is from this position that they continue the verbal combat. The war is not as much physical as it used to be, it’s now more verbal and mental.
What I’m noticing, much like the Rosetta Stone System of learning a Foreign Language, I’m becoming most proficient in cat hissing. I think I’ve learned to cuss in cat. That’s language number three right in there with Bûche de Noël.
I think these two cats are using me as a demilitarized zone, but I can’t speak Korean. Just cat cussing and Bûche de Noël.
Such a beautiful winter type day this first Sunday in December 2009, waiting for the snow to come to the East Wing and all the while enjoying your fine company by the fireplace.
Stay Safe in Bagdad, South Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing making Snow Cream, Bûche de Noël, and Cussing with Sophia the Republican Cat
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Wow! Did I ever get comments about Marsha Yockey! Seems some people take exception to my claim of having seen the ugliest woman ever. Some of those even provided photographic evidence to support their case. Strong cases indeed, ugliest damn pictures I ever saw.
Based on the photographic evidence, I’ll yield the title of having seen the ugliest woman in the world. Of the pictures I’ve seen, Marsha Yockey is not in the top 10. Still ugly, mind you, but not in the top 10. Not even in the top 10 of ugly, and that’s saying a lot.
The emails had several inquires as to what I was talking ‘bout, “Snow Cream” Ya could just tell they weren’t coal miners’ babies, ‘cause if they were, they’d know ‘bout Snow Cream.
Now in southeastern Kentucky, at TipTop, ya don’t get a lot of snow in the winter time. Rain a lot, considerable ice, fog a lot, but not a lot of snow like here in northern Indiana. So when it did snow in the mountains, it was special.
The most beautiful site I’ve experienced in the mountains was a night drive from Prestonsburg to Paintsville on a 4 lane high speed super highway carved through rock mountains. With a December Full Moon overhead, and an inch of fresh snow on mountains. The whole world appeared as if you had stepped inside a white neon light. Ya could drive at midnight without the lights. Few things in nature can compare to beauty of snow on the mountains in the full moon light. It’s beyond sparkle. A spectacular site to behold. A special treasurer to those who are blessed to see how God decorates his mountains for Christmas. We decorate a tree, he decorates the mountains. I am forever grateful to have seen it one time.
With snow being somewhat scarce, having enough snow for Snow Cream is even more scarce, or scarceser, as any good hillbilly boy would say. In order to make Snow Cream ya had to have at least 5 -6 inches of fresh snow. I don’t know why ya had to have 5-6 inches, that’s just what my mama said. One time I wanted her to make Snow Cream, “No, there’s not enough snow”. Must have been 3-4 inches, but not enough.
But when we did get enough, mama sends me outside into the new snow with the big dish pan and instructions to scoop up the snow but don’t get closer than 2 inches to the ground, and don’t you dare bring in a single speck of dirt in the snow or out it goes, and ya gotta do it again. The excitement is high but ya just know that ya gotta get it right, else I got not only my mama yelling at me, but keep in mind, I live in a family of sisters, so I got them yelling at me too. So I got it right, and the place I got it right is always on Flat Rock.
Flat Rock was a special spot kinda close to the school house, an unusual place, a place that is almost perfectly flat. It’s about maybe a third the size of a football field. There’s no trees, no grass, no dirt, just rock, flat, smooth, granite rock. Smooth from millions and millions of years of mountain rains washing over the surface of Flat Rock. It’s so flat there a marble won’t roll off if ya lay it down, so hard ya can’t break it with a hammer, I tried. We played at Flat Rock a lot. One of the very few places at TipTop that did not go either up or down.
The big dish pan I brought had a one inch brim around the top. It’s the ideal thing for scooping the snow at Flat Rock. Never a worry of scooping too close to the dirt. Just touch the brim to Flat Rock and one giant scoop then off to home. One time running downhill carrying the pan of snow I fell and all the snow flew out, so it’s back to Flat Rock for a second dip of the day. Got that done so fast they didn’t even know I had trouble along the way.
When I got home my mama took the big pan of snow, added some real cold milk, sugar, love, and vanilla then mixed it all up and put it into the freezer to “set”. Now I’m wanting to eat it right then and there but it had “set” I don’t know why, but it had to “set” in the freezer for two hours. That maybe was the longest two hours in the history of the State of Kentucky, waiting for Snow Cream to “set”.
Sometimes I’d go back outside and play in the snow. Go to Flat Rock and make Snow Angels. Play with my dog in the snow. Go play with my cousins, the Cole Gang, Pinto, Paul, and Jr. Just ‘bout every time my mama made Snow Cream all the cousins found out the Snow Cream was setting up in the freezer, and by the time the Snow Cream had “set” there was most always a house full of kids & cousins.
When the two hours finally passed, my mama would count heads, then scoop out the Snow Cream. The most amazing thing was that no matter how many heads were counted, we all got Snow Cream and there was always just enough.
The taste of Snow Cream is so special, remembered to this day. The taste is a combination gift from God, blended with my mama’s love. It’s Snow Cream. When ya were coal miner’s babies ya just didn’t have a lot of material things in life, but ya had Snow Cream and it was enough. We did not want, we had love in our family. We still do.
Good thing Christmas is in December or else it would be a very drab month indeed. Days getting shorter and shorter almost right up to Christmas. Cold and windy, the world has turned gray waiting for the snow to put its white magic blanket over us all. This year the magic blanket is yet to come. While at the same time it snowed last Friday in Mississippi. Got an email from a guy in Mississippi bragging that he got snow before the East Wing. Told him he was two up on me, I didn’t get Katrina either, so I’m glad he’s two up.
Forever people have been determined to brighten this darkest month of the year, December, by creating festivals of light and ceremonies of renewal and stuff like that. This is the month that the sun starts back north, and not a day too soon in the minds of many. For a lot of people it’s not as easy to get excited about cold weather as warm, but oh well, it’s winter that makes spring so special.
December has long since lost its original meaning of “ten” (decem), for the old Roman calendar’s tenth month, and now is more synonymous with “decorate.” The Yule log, evergreens, colored glass ornaments, wassail bowl, and now electricity has crept into Christmas, big time.
Wassail is a hot, spiced punch often associated with Christmas. Particularly popular in Germanic countries, the term itself is a contraction of the Middle English phrase wæs hæil, meaning "be healthy". The practice of wassailing is just going ‘round to everybody’s house and drink this stuff. In Kentucky they did pretty much the same thing, just pronounced it a little different, not Wassail, Moonshine.
A Yule log is a big wooden log which is burned in the fireplace as a part of traditional Yule or Christmas celebrations in several European cultures. It can be a part of the Winter Solstice festival or the Twelve Days of Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or Twelfth Night.
The closest I come to having a Yule Log is my remote controlled, gas fed fireplace in the East Wing. It seems to work out ok so far. This way I don’t have to go out in the cold and chop trees and all that, just push the button and fire happens. I set the fireplace on automatic so the 2girldogs don’t get cold when I’m gone. I think the Gray Lady could work the remote with a little instructions.
The expression "Yule log" has also come to refer to log-shaped Christmas cakes, also known as "chocolate logs" or "Bûche de Noël". I just threw that little tiddy in there just in case anybody wondered if BobbyRay knew a foreign language. So now ya know. For many years my daughter and I made the Bûche de Noël (there I go again) each Christmas Eve day, maybe we’ll make it again this year. It was a fun thing to do with my daughter, Angela.
Another really interesting old English tradition similar to the Yule Log is the Ashen Faggot. Ya may never have heard of this as it’s not nearly as well know at the Yule Log but somewhat similar. The Ashen Faggot thing is where people make a big bundle of sticks and twigs, they go to each other’s house, make a big bond fire, throw in the bundles and drink Wassail. Lots of traditions are associated with this one, has to do with the way the bundle is tied, which tie burns thru first, who in the community will be the next to marry. Now all these traditions have antecedents lost in time and all share a common goal, to make the season bright.
Sure seems like people a long time ago got more information from watching a fire then than we do today, now it seems, we just wonder if a Meth Lab burned the place down.
The more I think about the old Romans jerking ‘round with the calendar, the more I think they must have been democrats, to do something like that. I think the original Monday Holiday idea may have come from Nero, I understand he was a party animal extraordinary, and also big on fireworks. A guy like that would look forward to a three day weekend every chance he got.
This time of the year the 2girldog democrats are about as active as stamps on an envelopes. I think Sophia the Republican Cat has to wake ‘em up to go eat ‘n pee. Good thing Sophia isn’t in Washington, else she’d just let ‘em pee in their sleep.
I thought Sophia and the Angel were becoming the best of buds. That relationship has not yet blossomed. Turns out the Angel wouldn’t convert to the Red Cat Republican Party, so Sophia continues to slap her around from time to time, just to stay in practice, and the cat wars continue. The Angel has figured out that her proximity to me is in direct proportion the her health and safety and overall wellbeing.
When I sit at my computer the Angel lays between my wireless keyboard and the monitor, while at the same time Sophia continues to occupy her favorite spot, that being the back of my chair and when I push back from the keyboard the Angel relocated to my lap. It is from this position that they continue the verbal combat. The war is not as much physical as it used to be, it’s now more verbal and mental.
What I’m noticing, much like the Rosetta Stone System of learning a Foreign Language, I’m becoming most proficient in cat hissing. I think I’ve learned to cuss in cat. That’s language number three right in there with Bûche de Noël.
I think these two cats are using me as a demilitarized zone, but I can’t speak Korean. Just cat cussing and Bûche de Noël.
Such a beautiful winter type day this first Sunday in December 2009, waiting for the snow to come to the East Wing and all the while enjoying your fine company by the fireplace.
Stay Safe in Bagdad, South Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing making Snow Cream, Bûche de Noël, and Cussing with Sophia the Republican Cat
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
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