Okay. I get it.

Up at Drudgereport.com just now.

It's cold. Now let's get a grip on ourselves and try to put things into perspective.

The Jowell House built by George Jowell in 1872 after Indians burnt down his wood cabin.

Here's the story as told at the National Ranching Heritage Center in Lubock, Texas.

Click to enlarge and read.

The inside of the downstairs.

See that stove? That's it people.

And you want to talk about "life threatening?" 

Head stones from the final resting place of some of Jowell's descendents.

Franklin C. 1873-1876

James P. 1876-1878

Joel W. 1878-1878

Lona Bell 1880-1880

Euell Homar 1882-1883

Things don't seem all that bad today, now, do they? Maybe a little cold and windy. That's all.

I'm on a Mission from God.

Not really, but that sure is what it feels like.

I don't like to make excuses, but this is the best I got by way of explanation for my silence recently: I am cataloging my books. (Plus, putting in the rest of the garden.)

These will be #357-366.

Cataloging and tagging crappy old books (and new ones, too!) gives me an opportunity to sit for a minute or so with each. In so doing, I've realized God is omnipresent in my library. It isn't that I have a great number of books on religion, or a stockpile of Bibles. It's that every crappy old page (but not new page) I turn has a reference to God, Christianity, The Bible or religion. I suspect this is because God was omnipresent back in the crappy olden days.

Three quick examples and then out to the garden!

$0.99 / pound

Mr. Big Food got this four pound pork roast about three months ago and stuck it in the deep freezer. Saturday, he defrosted it, marinaded it for several hours (or was it over night?), and prepared it for roasting.

That's caraway on the top.

Served with a veganized cabbage dish.

It was great! Very moist. Recipes to follow.

Today, Mr. Big Food weighed out a pound and a half of leftover pork roast-- what he needs for carnitas later in the week. And he froze the remainder-- another pound and a half.

So, by my calculations, we spent just under $4.00 and will wind up with at least eight servings of pork. That's $0.50 per serving. And yes, yes, yes, please do figure in the cost of the caraway seeds and the propane for the oven. And the onion (although we'll soon be using homegrown onions). Plus the cost of running the deep freezer!

What are we up to now? $0.53/serving?

It's fun to be frugal!

A Tribute to Librarians and the Easter Bunny

"Why didn't you put more plays into your series Our American Holidays?"

The plaintiff was my friend Miss Eugenia Kruss, Librarian of the Epiphany Branch of the New York Public Library. I pleaded lack of space.

"Then why not bring out some supplementary volumes devoted entirely to drama?"

She drew an interesting picture of the situation in 23rd Street.

"Before each holiday and special celebration we are swamped with clients who clamor for appropriate plays. They must be not too long and not too hackneyed. They must be effective, amusing, interesting, with economical costuming and setting, and fairly easy to act. We hate to do it; but we have to send most of these people away empty-handed. We simply don't know where to turn for material. And the same thing happens at the other branches."

Now, any request from librarians always has my respectful consideration, because librarians are so often right. ... [A] few years ago, a five minute talk with two of them resulted in the publication of a book of travel and the eleven volumes of Our American Holidays ...

From the Introduction to Plays for Our American Holidays: Plays for Christmas and Other High Days, compiled and edited by Robert Haven Schauffler and A.P. Sanford, published by Dodd, Mead and Company, New York, 1928.

Having read the Introduction to Plays for Our American Holidays, I wondered if this crappy old book was cited in any other of my crappy old books for librarians. It is not cited in my older edition of Anniversaries and Holidays because that crappy old book was also published in 1928. It was cited in the later, 1944, edition. That said, Our American Holidays was cited in the 1928 edition.

The three books with Peter Rabbit (not the Easter Bunny)

Oh my! Look what's in Plays for our American Holidays!

Crappy old legend

"The First Easter Bunny" is set in a "field near a church in Central Europe many years ago." The characters-- boys, girls and a few women-- wear peasant dress. The children are on their way to church to sing. We learn from the first bit of dialogue that there's been an ongoing famine for some years. The children were particularly hungry during the past winter. They are disappointed that there will be no Easter gifts this year but they understand their parents are poor. They are glad that spring has arrived because the chickens have begun laying-- so their hunger has abated somewhat.

As legend has it, the mothers got together, dyed some hardboiled eggs, and hid them in the field near the church. As fate would have it, the children discovered the colorful eggs-- too big to be robins' eggs!-- as they were chasing a large bunny through the field.

So there you have it. The first Easter Bunny and Easter Egg Hunt.

Now, I ask you folks in Alabama, what's so objectionable about that?

Invitations to the Dinner Party: 1

We've sent off the first batch of invitations!

Each of us placed our guest's name at a place at the table. From top to bottom, left to right

Harper Lee (author)-- Daughter C.
Mark Twain (author pseudonym)-- Miss M.
Gordon Ramsey (chef)-- A. Leland
John von Neumann (mathematician)-- Tony
T. Jefferson (patriot)-- Marica
Patrick Stewart (actor)-- Kat
John Ford (film director)-- Mr. Big Food

~~
I am sad to say I did not properly communicate the rules to Kat initially. Her first pick was Grandpa Bobby. I had to tell her that people from personal lives are not allowed. This was a point of discussion when we discussed the rules last evening. I was tempted to make an exception. Kat-- not being part of last night's discussion-- was, at the time she invited Grandpa Bobby, ignorant of the rules. But rules are rules. Besides, according to one widely-held World View, Grandpa Bobby is at all of our dinner parties, real and imaginary!

~~
OH! I know who I'm inviting next!! 

Party On!

Mr. Big Food, Miss M., and I were chatting about a hypothetical dinner party this evening. We decided to turn our chit-chat into a little game.

The question is, "Who would you invite to an imaginary dinner party?" 

RULES

The invited guests must be Real People. Dr. Who, Sherlock, and Mr. Spock cannot be invited. (That's a game for another rainy week.) They can be from any where in the world but they must have lived within the last 150 or so years.* Neither Aristotle nor Jesus can be invited this time, maybe some other. 

Heritage

I attribute the elements of the New & Improved half-bath to Mr. Big Food's Czech-Tex heritage.

Mr. Big Food's Mom gave me those green hanging on the wall things when she lived in Dallas. They've been stored away in basements and garages for years waiting for just the right wall to come along.

They found one!

The BIGGEST part is, of course, this crappy old towel:

 I ironed it!

Common Sense

Of the origin and design of government in general. With concise remarks on the English constitution

Some writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the later negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a patron, the last a punisher.

Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one... .

Thomas Paine, Common Sense, 1776 [emphases in original]

Full text here.

They sure had some silly ideas back in the crappy olden days, didn't they?

Because you can never have too many copies of the Declaration of Independence,

I bought two more yesterday.

$4.63 to the children; $0.32 to the state

I love The Palmer House Thrift Store where every penny I spend except those that go to the Sovereign State of Mississippi goes to The Palmer Home for Children in Columbus, Mississippi. I buy a lot of books there.

Palmer Home for Children is today an independent institution governed by an unpaid, volunteer Board of Directors. But we are proud of our Presbyterian heritage and maintain close ties with Presbyterian and other churches as well as interested friends concerned about family breakup and the plight of fatherless children.

[Incidentally, according to Off the Beaten Path Mississippi,  Mississippians give more per capital to charity than citizens of any other state. I tried to verify this independently but was not able to do so. It does make sense, though, given Mississippians' acquaintance with tornadoes and hurricanes, and our tendency to go to church. As my father would often say, "There but for the Grace of God go I."

Oh look. It's raining.]

The Palmer Thrift Store was having a 1/2 price sale on books! And yes, that is Ronald Regan who once said,

... On my way to the hall, a fellow recognized me and asked what I was doing in Las Vegas.... I told him what I was here for, and he said, "What are a bunch of farmers doing in Las Vegas?" I couldn't resist. I said, "Buster, they are in a business that makes a Las Vegas crap table look like a guaranteed annual income!" --Remarks to state officers of the Future Farmers of America, July 29, 1987

From The Quotable Ronald Regan compiled and edited by Peter Hannaford, copyright 1998 published by Regnery Publishing, Inc. It's for Mr. Big Food's bookshelf.

Lydia Pickham is Her Name (1949) is not a work of fiction! 

Berry Picking

Some danged BIG berries! (Photo taken with my phone.)

Since last Thursday, I've been told by a reliable authority the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (part of the United States Department of Commerce) that it will begin raining today and will continue to rain through Friday. I was also told to expect frigid temperatures late in the week.  Consequently, I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish before the rains set in and it got cold. (Mid-70s is pretty chilly.)  Picking dewberries was on my list.

One 28 ounce coffee can, or about two pounds, of fresh dewberries, picked this morning

Part of my family's food heritage is berry picking. The Girls picked strawberries and blueberries from you-pick farms when they were little. Along with my parents, my sibling and I picked wild berries from roadsides and abandoned country farms and fields. My grandmother picked wild berries almost her whole life-- not until the day she died but on the very day she died while picking berries. We all picked berries back in the crappy olden times. So while I was picking berries I was thinking about berry picking.

Berry picking teaches important lessons.

1. Go/Be prepared. I had a gun and a knife and a couple of coffee cans and some gloves and my phone. I forgot my camera. I wore steel toed boots, long pants, hat, and a light, loose long-sleeved shirt. But I forgot to hose myself off with Deep Woods Off (TM)-- a very dumb thing to do when venturing into the deep woods. Thankfully, I was prepared at home. I knew exactly where the tweezers were. Stupid ticks.
2. Do not pass over small berries while searching for large berries. Two small berries = one large berry. The goal is to fill the coffee can with berries, not to impress your neighbors.

Really? Mississippi & Memorial Day

When I typed up that last post on Decoration Day, I did not know about the ladies in Columbus, Mississippi in 1866. Thanks to my senator's email, I do now. 

Wicker Remembers America’s Fallen Soldiers

Mississippians Helped Inspire National Observance of Memorial Day

Each year on Memorial Day, Mississippians gather to remember the patriots who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country.  The solemn ceremonies across our state are heartfelt displays of thanks and respect for the brave men and women of our Armed Forces.  I am honored to take part in the Memorial Day events in a number of Mississippi’s small towns this year.

Civil War Beginnings

Mississippians have commemorated the service of fallen soldiers for nearly 150 years.  The beginnings of today’s Memorial Day can be traced back to April 25, 1866, when a group of women in Columbus placed flowers on the graves of both Confederate and Union soldiers at Friendship Cemetery.  The generosity of these women in decorating every soldier’s marker earned national attention and inspired the poem “The Blue and the Gray” by Francis Miles Finch.

As the third verse describes, “From the silence of sorrowful hours, The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers, Alike for the friend and the foe.”

Others across the country may have decorated the graves of Civil War soldiers in their communities, but the Library of Congress describes the gesture of the women in Columbus as “more generous in its distribution of the tributes of honor and mourning.”  It played a meaningful role in the emergence of Memorial Day as a national time of remembrance.

Read the rest below. If you don't know what Honor Flight is, please learn. 

The Creeds, &c.

If it were not such a busy day, I'd drag out a bunch of crappy old stuff in response to the stay-at-home Mom dust up, but it's a busy day for this here homemaker. And so I've gone to the archives. (Excuse the differences in formatting. I'm just copy/pasting straight from old posts.)

The Meal Planner's Creed from The Modern Family Cookbook by Meta Given 

(J. G. Ferguson Publishing Company, Chicago. 1958. p2)

The Meal Planner's Creed

The health of my family is in my care, therefore--
I will spare no effort in planning the right kinds of food in the right amounts.

Spending the food dollar for maximum value is my job, therefore--
I will choose from variously priced foods to save money without sacrificing health.

My family's enjoyment of food is my responsibility, therefore--
I will increase their pleasure by planning for variety, for flavorful dishes, for attractive color, for appetizing combinations.

My family's health, security, and pleasure depend on my skill in planning meals, therefore--
I will treat my job with the respect that is due it.

~~ 

Quick thoughts-- and links to longer thoughts-- on food shopping, mending, washday and more crappy old stuff below the fold.

Some lovely photos of the Mississippi countryside

including a few of "Dockery Plantation, real home of the blues," courtesy of North Mississippi Commentor. Check out his last three posts.

 

Grabbed from Tom Freeland's blog

READ ALL ABOUT IT!

This is NEWS!

Parker Roberson, age 76, of Parker Roberson Road was cited for possession of intoxicating beverages in a dry county.

He paid a $278 fine Tuesday afternoon in [our county] Justice Court, records show.


The state Revenue Department said charges for possession of the illegal distillery are pending.

It was an undercover operation. 

Talk about rain on parades...

NASCAR has banned the General Lee from a lap in the Sprint Cup parade.

A sad day in The South's history:

A Rainy Saturday Morning

Mr. Big Food, Remy, Missy and I took a walk around the property.

All it takes to wear out a five month old knock-off Shepador is a mile long walk that ends with play time in the pasture in the rain. That's all!

There's some fence work to be done along the North Road.

It's shaping up to be a wonderfully relaxing weekend. Daughter C is home, so Rocky is not my responsibility. (Much as I love him, I need a break.) Mr. Big Food tells me we'll be making some salsa-- using the frozen tomatillos from last year's garden-- this afternoon, and some sausage tomorrow. Look forward to those recipes!

In Summertime, this hidden pasture teams with wild sunflowers and butterflies.

 Remy came down from Memphis yesterday and spent the night here at the Farm before heading back. Mr. Big Food grilled a New York strip over mesquite. We finished the evening conversing by the fire with a cognac. We talked at length about vegetable gardens, Liberty, Freedom, self-reliance, and such. Very pleasant.

About that relaxing weekend... . It's really raining and Missy is done napping. Yippee.

Community & Co. w/UPDATE

This is a scheduled post. I started it days ago. I'm finishing it now. Go to the home page and scroll down if you need to get caught up.

~~

We have Company from out of town. On his first evening here, after supper, we invited Mr. Co. to take a look at our local weekly newspaper. I'm sorry I no longer have the front page to scan so you could see for yourselves, it was put to use this morning (Missy is not yet house-trained), but as I recall one of the front page stories was about the folks who received award buttons for their outstanding service at the local hospital.

It is hard to not be charmed by the local paper. (Mr. Big Food especially likes the "25-50-75 Years Ago Today" page. I avoid that one.) Mr. Co. continued reading through it, and when he'd finished-- it takes longer than you'd expect-- he looked up and said, "Ah, it's a community" in a very interesting accent.

Big Life.

~~
Back to now-- in retrospect, we spent a fair amount of time talking with Mr. Co. about values, although no one came out and said as much, except when Mr. Co. & Mr. Big Food were talking about Aristotle & stuff.

This is not a political blog, per se.

It's a blog that reflects what's going on in my little corner of fly-over land, which we quite purposefully sought out in order to secure our futures and to provide for those we love as best we can should worse come to worst. 

It's a blog about what I try to think about when I've had enough, when I'm sickened that even here, in my little corner, one little store has sold out of 100 watt bulbs.

I hope that those who stumble across this blog find something to enjoy and perhaps occasionally something to think about, be it a new recipe, old book, or story about Rocky.  

With that said, please read this letter to President Obama from George Washington. It begins:

Dear Mr. President:

Although it is two hundred years, and more, since I laid down the cares of an eventful temporal existence and took up residence in my long home, Our Gracious Lord has seen fit to bestow upon my spirit the gift of perpetual cognition, and He has granted the further boon of permitting me, for a few moments, to assume sufficient corporeality to pen this letter, which I place before Your Excellency as the cri de coeur of a patriot whose efforts on behalf of his country have been deemed by its citizens to possess no little significance.

I have watched, frequently with pride and joy, occasionally with grave misgivings and sadness, the arc of our country’s history over two centuries, since those of my generation first established that Orchard of Liberty on the North American continent that would become the envy of the world. Over many seasons that Orchard has borne good fruit, and has flourished in the golden light of our Sacred Constitution. In evil times, this Arboreal Garden has been watered with the blood of heroes, which sustenance has served to make it even hardier and more prolific.

Imagine my consternation then, Sir, when I look upon our Orchard today, and see the fruit withering on the branch, the crowns blighted, and the whole cloaked in the gauzy shrouds of assiduously destructive bagworms. How slothful and inattentive have become the arborists who constitute what my friend Thomas Jefferson referred to as our natural aristoi!  ...

~~
h/t Bookworm Room who linked to Doug Ross who presents the "Fabulous 50 Blog Award Winners," naming the Letter the best post of the year-- for good reason.

Recipes: SVIČKOVA and KNEDLE

Yesterday, when I posted some photos of the knedle in progress, I said

When I post the recipe-- which I will after I have some photos of them doing what God intended them to do-- I'll include the correct name.

Here they are, doing what God intended: 

soaking up some ‘peek-a-pok, good gravy.’

Courtesy of Mr. Big Food and complete with his color commentaries, the recipes for Svičkova (Czech sauerbraten) and Knedle (bread dumplings) are below the fold.

(Sorry, forgot to get the carroten recipe.)

Guest Post: MR. BIG FOOD HIMSELF!

The Big Food Manual and Survivalist Flourishing Guide recently crossed the 14,000 recipe mark. For readers unfamiliar with this collection, I started it back in the early summer of 2006, before Marica and I left “The Compound” in Cincinnati’s Northside community for “The Bunker” in rural Rileyville, Virginia, where we were on a year’s sabbatical just a few short steps from the Shenandoah River. It began as simply a way to get a bunch of old hand-written recipes I had compiled over the years, stuffed into a blue three-ring notebook, onto my laptop computer. Those recipes came from a variety of sources, including recipes from Gran, Tait, Buncle, and other “old timers’ at the Dallas SPJST Hall (Slavic Benevolent Order of the State of Texas), handed down to me mostly by Mom and Aunt Bee. (Though I did find a number of these recipes hand-written in old cookbooks I acquired from Gran.) I then started working through the many old, mostly locally published cookbooks I had collected over the years, adding favorite recipes I had cooked out of those books for as long as I’ve been cooking. And that’s awhile. I started collecting those books in my college undergraduate days when I learned how to cook seriously, first at the old North Campus Dining Facility at UCLA, back in 1980. (However, I’m sure Mom will remind me that I cooked as a kid, too.) Anyway, the project kept expanding, and eventually it hit me that I was compiling a definitive collection of American home cooking recipes. I started adding more recipes from my collection of old cookbooks, even ones I had never tried personally—I just started intuiting which ones should make good food. And I continued searching earnestly for more old cookbooks.

            Now we’re at the point where it would take a person more than thirty years (and closing in on forty years) if one simply did 1 recipe (and whatever variations are included on its page) per day.