A Rustic Idyll, With A Shooting!

 Today, I thought I would tell a little tale involving my Grandma, Frances, up there.  She was an original, quite a character.  Farmer's wife.  Born in Kansas.

I was down in Idaho, with some of the family, visiting the grandparent's farm that summer. It was our usual vacation.  My parents didn't do a real vacation! lol.  Nope. 

I was probably about 16 years old, and my younger male cousin was there also that day.

So Grandma says there is a sick rooster down in the corral. She wants Todd and I to go kill the rooster and give it to the barn cats.  These cats would really eat a rooster!  So she hands me a 22 long gun of some sort and Todd, who was about 12 at that time, and I head on down the driveway through the farm to this corral area. Now, I had never shot any kind of gun, ever.  However, Frances liked to shake things up and see what fell out.

Way across this corral, so small that I couldn't see him in any detail, I saw our quarry, a ratty looking old rooster.  So while Todd, watched, I took aim and fired. By some quirk of Universal Kozmik Weirdness I clipped its head neatly off.  Cat food, off the hoof!

Do you remember that cat food commercial, with the jingle that goes "meow meow meow meow meow etc" in that tune?  Anyhow, cousin Todd was so excited that he ran up to the house singing the jingle all the way, to spread the happy news of my terrific shot.  I hope my grandma was pleased.  

Not being completely green, and knowing about how likely that was to ever happen again, I never ever ever took another shot in front of Todd or any of them, ever again.

My reputation remained intact.  

That's Todd. As you can see, he is going to lose this match.

Greetings Lurkers, BigFoot Researchers and All Gentle Folk

 Sometimes the boat sails, and sometimes it just doesn't.  So, let's do an open thread today.

We so appreciate you all for turning up from day to day, and for all your comments.  

The Raven And The Rose

 The prince and the girl had quarreled. 

He sat disconsolately on a byway bench.  My, what a handsome prince he was! Long of limb he was, and dressed in casual elegance, which he thought was just normal. He sat so long that he was beginning to let the anger drift away into the air.  In fact, he was sleepy, and as he was a young fit fellow, sleep came easily, even with a broken heart.  The blood-red roses he carried fell away into the street.  Some were trampled on by passing citizens, children, and horses. He slept on.

She, in her little tower, had ceased crying.  Her face was somewhat red, and teary.  She was no princess.  She was a rather spoiled girl-child nearing marriageable age.  At this point in her life, she looked like a rather pretty young fish-wife, touseled and damp, but adorable. She was not locked into the tower.  Her dad and mum just happened to live in a little stone tower with lots of windows on all three floors.  So, of course, she did also.

Feeling petulant and wronged she had sequestered herself on the top floor and was gazing blearily out of a window facing the common street. She felt as if all the happiness of recent days had died and with it all her hopes.

A very large and majestic Raven sat nearby, like an omen, observing the two of them, for they were not very far apart.  Ravens are very wise in the ways of all sorts of mankind, for they are always watching and listening to our foolishness, and the mismatching of fortunes in love and business. They are also nosy.  She flew down near the bench.

In very Raven-like sideways hops, she approached the prince's bench.  She observed that he was totally out of it for the moment.  She poked around in the sullied bouquet of bloody colored roses and found a perfect one, seized it in her large black beak, and flew into the sky.

She flew to the open window where the sad girl looked out.  Landing on the stone ledge, she offered the rose to the girl and then spoke.  While the girl was holding the rose, Raven said "Go to him now.  He is only sleeping on that bench just down the street.  You have been a fool and you must mend your foolishness for your sake and his."

Running down all the stairs in the little tower and out into the street, she saw him there just a bit down the block.

As you can imagine, once she had awakened him, and he had gotten over his astonishment, there was a heartfelt conversation in which first she and then he confessed to pettiness and lack of generosity, and they laid bare their hearts to each other.  They sat together beside the trampled roses and held the one perfect rose between them, and all was well.

From high up in a convenient tree the observant Raven sat watching in inscrutable approval, with glittering black eyes.  Then she flew away to where it was her own business to fly!

Of course, this eerie song by Tom Waits is only barely appropriate, but I thought the tone of it a good fit.

Have A Green Day!

What I always heard was that the Irish in Ireland think we Americans are nuts, celebrating St. Pat's like we tend to.  But, I went looking for photos to prove this contention and it appears that they have come over to our way of celebrating.  

 It appears that a party is a party.  I saw no sober religious observations in my search.

St. Patrick's Day 2012: Facts, Myths, and Traditions

Who Was the Man Behind St. Patrick's Day?

For starters, the real St. Patrick wasn't even Irish. He was born in Britain around A.D. 390 to an aristocratic Christian family with a townhouse, a country villa, and plenty of slaves.

What's more, Patrick professed no interest in Christianity as a young boy, Freeman noted.

At 16, Patrick's world turned: He was kidnapped and sent overseas to tend sheep as a slave in the chilly, mountainous countryside of Ireland for seven years. 

"It was just horrible for him," Freeman said. "But he got a religious conversion while he was there and became a very deeply believing Christian."

St. Patrick's Disembodied Voices

According to folklore, a voice came to Patrick in his dreams, telling him to escape. He found passage on a pirate ship back to Britain, where he was reunited with his family.

The voice then told him to go back to Ireland.

"He gets ordained as a priest from a bishop, and goes back and spends the rest of his life trying to convert the Irish to Christianity," Freeman said.

Patrick's work in Ireland was tough—he was constantly beaten by thugs, harassed by the Irish royalty, and admonished by his British superiors. After he died on March 17, 461, Patrick was largely forgotten.

But slowly, mythology grew around Patrick, and centuries later he was honored as the patron saint of Ireland, Freeman noted.

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St. Patrick's Day: Made in America?

Until the 1970s, St. Patrick's Day in Ireland was a minor religious holiday. A priest would acknowledge the feast day, and families would celebrate with a big meal, but that was about it.

"St. Patrick's Day was basically invented in America by Irish-Americans," Freeman said.

It's an interesting and informative article. This family  doesn't usually make any fuss about it, except to take advantage of corned beef sales.  That's another thing that is different, the Irish, I hear, have lamb on the day.  Corned beef is one of those sort of Jewish/American things. We live in the heart of the melting pot after all!

I can tell you another amusing "Irish" story. Those fishermen's sweaters in cream colored wool, with all the cables and bobbles?  They were not traditional.  They were contracted to be made and merchandised by a Jewish guy!  Real fisherman's sweaters were usually navy blue and of rather more restrained surface patterning.

Top fake, bottom real.

I have only one characteristic memory of my own about the green day. One year in Jr. High I went nuts and dyed all of my clothing green.  I did a poor job, in the washing machine at home.  My clothes were stained a sort of washed out green that year.  I suppose I drove my parents around the bend, but if so, I don't remember there being any amazement that I had done this thing. Maybe they were expecting trouble at any time.

🍀🍀🍀 

And just to get you in the proper mood!

Or?

 Oy! And Begorrah! Party on I guess!

Without Conjecture Where Would We Be?

 Now here is some conjecture for ya!

???????

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Noun

a : inference formed without proof or sufficient evidence

b: a conclusion deduced by surmise or guesswork
The criminal's motive remains a matter of conjecture.

c: a proposition (as in mathematics) before it has been proved or disproved

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I think conjecture gets a bad rap. That's probably because stating a conjecture is not a good proof of anything.  However, it's the beginning of ideas in another way.

I believe that all experimentation and/or design begins with an idea, which does not begin by being provable.  What would happen if I did such and such? My desired result would be a conjecture.

So, it's a controlled form of guessing, with experimentation, in a way.

I'm not a scientist, but maybe a lower form of an engineer of sorts, a designer.  Everything I have ever designed started with a sort of guess or conjecture.  How about if I try such and such and see how that looks.  It doesn't always work out.  But how would I know if I didn't have a question in mind and try it?

I realize that I am indulging in the stretching of a definition. 😁

This guy is really good at conjecture also.  But his videos are fun to watch and think about.

I Am A Specialist In Finding The Easy Way Out

 I call it streamlining.

Did you ever notice how the instructions for so many things are so weirdly ornate?  I'm not sure why there is the urge to make more work than there has to be.  The thing I try to do is analyze the actual thing I am trying to accomplish.  Here is a little example.

   Years ago, I started making kefir at home.  The directions would scare anyone out of the project.  There was a lot of hoohah about timing, sieves, containers, the correct material to use in stirring kefir, so that it doesn't give up the ghost or something.  I can't even remember it all.  I use metal implements and it still works just fine.

   Know how I do it?  Say I already have a jar of it finished, thick and fermented.  I get a clean jar and set it beside the other one.  I put as much WHOLE milk as I want to have of kefir the next day in the clean jar. I take my big long spoon with the holes in it and I fish out the lump of grains, as they call the stuff that carries the ferment organisms in it, with the spoon.  I plunk that into the fresh jar of milk.  I give it a good stir, so that the fresh milk can contact the grains.  I put a lid on the new jar and set it aside anywhere in the kitchen.  I put the finished kefir in the fridge to chill, it tastes better cold.  

   The new stuff will be fermented in about 24 hours.  You know it's done when it gets thick.  If it separates, you need to remove some of the grains because it's too much for the amount of milk.  You can give these to someone who wants to make kefir, freeze them in case yours die for some reason.  I have never had any die, but I guess it does happen.  Or you can throw the extra away. If you don't have anyone to get some grains from, you can buy them on Amazon.  The first few jars you attempt might take a long time to get going.  It is a little rough on the stuff to be shipped, but persevere and all will be well.  Write me if you have problems.

   If you think that sounds ornate, you should hear the official directions!  My way works and is stripped to the bare functional essentials.

   That's the ticket!  Bare functional essentials!

   One other thing, kefir is much more complex than yogurt.  It has both yeasts and healthy bacterial in it.  Good stuff for the guts, our second brain, you know!

Strangers On A Plane?

 

"What is man, that thou art mindful of him?" 

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God and man. What say you? Man as a mortal human? Or... Man as the immortal, spiritual image and likeness of God... the crowning compound idea of creation, exercising dominion over the imaged forth infinities of God's creation with the mind of Christ? ["Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus."]

At the risk of shattering a few world views, I submit that it's time to start thinking on a more cosmic level and truly consider what it means to be God's man. What we see in this world is only a fraction of the whole. Let's face it, in the galaxy of interdimensional abilities, we might be viewed as being rather puny physical specimens on the grand scale of physical specimens, and could easily fall under some fairy or demon spell and wind up on Ralph's or E.T.'s menu at any time. 

We call other beings aliens, fairies, elves, Bigfoot, etc. They occupy other dimensions and have developed the advanced ability to interface with ours, more so than we have with theirs. Of course they are real, corporeal that is, because people have seen and interacted with them throughout history. The Bible and ancient texts hint at the existence of men unlike ourselves, and our mythologies and countless fables speak to this as being so. ["In my father's house there are many mansions."]

These other entities are in the family of man, the brotherhood of man, our neighbors, and are subject to the same eternal laws of love and transcendental truth, as well as the same corporeal temptations and laws of matter specific to their worlds... good and evil, hungering after the flesh, sin, disease, and death, just as we are. God is the only power, so the same power that created us as good also created them as good. ["And God saw all the things that he had made, and, behold, they were very good."]["For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers; all things were created through him and for him."]

Bear in mind, all that is found in the world or in some other worldly dimension of flesh (matter) is a carcass (perishable)... Jesus's words, not mine. Engage the sub-spiritual concepts of predator and prey, add the knowledge of good and evil, and this becomes clear. So to overcome and become like Daniel in the lion's den, or to find the place in mind where the wolf and the lamb dwell together and the little child is leading them, or to be transfigured as Enoch and walk with God is wisdom. ["Believe in the light, that you may become sons of light."]  Love neither eats nor is eaten, and the thoughts we give our brother to know us are the thoughts we receive to know him. ["Seek for yourselves a place for rest, or you might become a carcass and be eaten."] 

Know that Jesus came and will reappear. The truth always does. Know that the same truth has undoubtedly appeared to beings in other dimensions and will also return to them again... as Jesus, Exemplar, Comforter, Herald of Truth, manifesting in a form recognizable to other types of flesh in other dimensions. How could it not be so? ["For there is no favor by appearance with God."] Who's listening? Who's watching? Who's loving? Who has bad intentions? Who's afraid? Who's our neighbor? Who has advanced farther into the realm of love, us or beings who are able to dematerialize and assume a form of light? Who's nailing their Jesus to the interdimensional wood? 

If bad actors abound in our world, they most certainly occupy other realms, too. Perhaps if we fix what's broken in our world as Jesus has so instructed, we will earn a seat at the universal table in heaven and finally find sustenance in love instead of feeding on each other. ["Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."]

Fee-fi-fo-fum

It's no fun

To be eaten

By an alien!

Communication with Extraterrestrial Intelligence 

-Lambros D. Callimahos 

We are not alone in the universe. A few years ago, this notion seemed farfetched; today, the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence is taken for granted by most scientists. Even the staid National Academy of Sciences has gone on record that contact with other civilizations "is no longer something beyond our dreams but a natural event in the history of mankind that will perhaps occur in the lifetime of many of us."

... 

And after we resolve our pressing scientific questions, it might be appropriate to make discrete inquiries as to how we could live in harmony and peace with our fellow man - that is, if we aren't eaten or otherwise ingested by the superior civilization that had the good fortune to contact us.

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