The Laughing Wolf

The Private Body Armor Ban

Also posted at Blackfive

By now, probably most of you have seen this story about the Army banning the use of privately purchased body armor. Three key points in the story are, of course, almost at the bottom. The Army has asked Pinnacle to provide 30 sets for independent testing, which the company will be able to provide in May; previous small-scale testing was "disappointing"; and, it also notes that more than $800k has been provided to Pinnacle in funding to develop improved armor. Pity that this information could not be brought up before the end...

When I saw the story last night, I asked some people to provide me with some thoughts. One of whom I think highly said:

"First of all, the Army really doesn't have much of a choice but to put out a policy like that for a couple of reasons. First of all, unlike the enemy we face today, we wear uniforms and adhere to the rules of war as outlined by the Geneva convention and to remain in uniform the Army has to establish guidelines. More importantly, the Army has an inherent responsibility to protect and take care of its soldiers. If they allow Joe to wear whatever body armor he/she wishes and it should fail in combat, the public and press would have a field day with the Army for not properly protecting their kids. The article mentions a new Dragon Skin armor that is very appealing to soldiers, especially SF guys (I'm told from some of my SF friends) because it allows for much more mobility. What needs to be fixed is the system by wear the Army tests and appropriates these new technologies to make it quicker and more efficient.

... the Army has to err on the side of caution to protect your soldiers and just because the Dragon Skin might be popular with the boots on the ground, doesn't mean that it'll protect them when it matters."

For those interested, there is a good deal of information about attempts to reform the military procurement system, as well as changes, available at Winds of Change. In this case, it appears that Army procurement has been moving to deal with this situation, and not all the delays can be laid at their doorstep.

We can but hope that all parties will expedite as much as possible, and also know that the efforts to help give our troops the best possible protection are continuing unabated.

LW

Into The Light: Charlise Farrior Teal

Instapundit has lost his grandmother. He has often blogged of her, and from his posts it is clear she had a long and good life. May the light shine welcome her home, and shine on those left behind.

LW

Route 66 Diner: Don't Bother

Up this morning at 0230 for an early morning photo shoot, finished it, taking care of business, and decide to splurge and get some breakfast. The work had me out in northern West Lafayette, and I decided to re-try the Route 66 Diner as I do check on some places that have earned a spot on my Don't Bother list.

The food there has always been, at best, mediocre, but a great wait staff made it worthwhile. Then, they fired or ran off all the good staff, and you could add at best mediocre service to the food, and, well, I just quit going. Being hungry, I thought I would check and see if things had changed in nine or so months.

They allegedly open at 0600, it is after the hour, and the sign is lit. The door is locked, and the waitron inside glared at me when I pulled on the locked door. In point of fact, she sat there doing stuff and pretty well ignored me after the glare. I finally gave up and walked next door to the Speedway, and picked up a couple of sausage and egg biscuits. Not bad, and sold to me by some friendly faces. So, I recommend that if you are ever over that way, forget Route 66 and go check out the Speedway. Better food and better service all around.

LW

IT People: Yet Anothe Reason To Avoid Dell

As if they didn't have a bad enough reputation, check out this entry detailing how they are refusing to honor their warranty.

Also, if you don't check out The Origin Of Soul on a regular basis, you should.

LW

Should I?

Or shouldn't I?

The cyberstalker has returned yet again, that brave soul speaking truth to power and haunting my days and blog to bring misery and dismay upon all. *Cough* That courageous soul who has posted as John Young and used about every alias in the book except, of course, their real name. *choke* That person who implies, if not outright claims, to speak for NASA and to know all, reveal all. *wheeze* A person who just happens to spend time in or near Reston, KSC, Michoud...

Logic and civility long ago failed, for rational discourse (much less rationality) were beyond them. Taunting and mocking grew way too easy, and so lost appeal. Lately, I've just been ignoring them and filing abuse complaints with ISPs.

The kick is that their efforts to gain attention for themselves may have paid off. I have an ISP that is willing to turn over all information they have on this creature to law enforcement if I file a complaint about their campaign. I also happen to be aware that their antics have also come to 9th level attention elsewhere shall we say.

So, what to do. Should I file a legal complaint and strip away the mask? Should I work through or with an agency that might just have an iron in the fire on this? Or, should we all just ignore them and continue to pray for them?

Decisions, decisions...

LW

Some Thoughts On A Marine

Crossposted on Blackfive

There are a number of things going on in my life right now, some of which have prevented me from posting or commenting as I would like. One of them in particular, along with this discussion sparked by Army Wife Toddler Mom, has helped bring back some memories of a Marine -- my Dad.

I will keep it short today, for to tell his full story is a thing for a book. What I will share is just a bit of his time in the Marines.

Dad was born in the early 1900's, just in time for the family to be devastated by the Great Depression. They kept the country house and farm, and lived there, but there was no money for any luxury, including college. At the recommendation of some family friends, including I believe one in Congress, Dad enlisted in the Marines so he could apply for the Academy and a college education. All was on track, and the tests showed that he would be in the upper ten percent of his class, when someone deliberately delayed his paperwork such that he was two weeks too old for the cutoff in place at the time. Not even Congressional pressure could do anything about this, and the episode left Dad with no love for or trust in high command.

In the tradition of the Corps and his family, he shut up and did. A good shot by Southern standards, he earned Marine marksman qualifications with rifle, pistol, and (eventually) BAR. He was good enough that he did competition shooting for the Corps, even unto National Match level.

It was there that one of my favorite stories derives. When I was small, I did the typical boy thing and made some comment about "gurls" not being able to shoot. This earned the ire of my Mom, who was the first woman on Mercer University's rifle team, and a story from Dad. He told me the story of the "Girl From Texas."

It was on the long-distance (1,000 yard?) range, and the competition was down pretty much to Dad and this woman, who was I think younger than Dad. Dad was just getting ready to take his shot when she shot, and the signal for dead bull came up on his target. Dad immediately halted, called the range master over telling him he had not shot. As his gun was being inspected and his not having been shot verified, she called out that she had shot, check the target. Maggie's britches flew at her target, and the sign for dead bull once again flew on Dad's. Yep, she had shot the wrong target, dead center. Her mastery of invective impressed Dad, who I think learned some new ones when she cut loose. From what I remember of the story, that is how he did beat her -- that one shot.

Dad was also the sole survivor of a training accident that first time through. On his cruise, he and his mates were called out onto the deck of the battleship they were on for a naval gunnery demonstration. It was one of the small guns, a 5-incher I think. Dad was standing in formation behind one of his best buddies in the group, a big red-headed fellow who was larger than Dad in every dimension. A good thing for Dad, as the gun blew, and Dad came to hearing someone grab him and say "This one is dead too, brains all over." They were all over, just not his, but his friend's who's body had shielded him such that he lived. I found out about this one day after Dad met a former buddy of mine, who reminded him a lot of his long-lost friend.

When his hitch was up, he left the Corps and went back into the world. When WWII came, he was working for Hercules Powder as a foreman, which was a draft exempt job. Dad's boss, however, kept only getting temporary deferments for him. Dad told him that either make it permanent or he was going back in to fight. His boss didn't, Dad did, despite having a wife and trying to start a family.

Dad had to laugh, sort of, when talking about going in. He went in and started the process, and was startled when the man told him he could pick what service he wanted. Dad had figured that there was no choice, given prior service. His memories of before were not good when it came to high command, and he had some reasons to want to fight in Europe, so he -- on impulse -- asked for the Army. Nope, no can do, full up for Army today. Well, in that case, give me the Navy. Nope, no can do, full up for the Navy today? Then what's left? Marines! Step right this way. He made the comment one time that the process felt oddly like coming home...

Because of prior service and prowess at hitting targets, Dad was assigned as a marksmanship instructor in San Diego. How he and his wife ended up living next to Joan Crawford is a story for another day. For now, I will just note that those days were why Dad swore Gomer Pyle USMC was a documentary, not a comedy. No place on a range was safe when some of those kids got their hands on a firearm (much less a grenade).

One day on the range, he and the other instructors heard an announcement over the loudspeakers. Marine snipers were urgently needed, and the following people had volunteered. He and several other instructors heard about their volunteering for the first time as they listened.

Dad packed his wife back to her family and found himself headed into combat. When he arrived in Hawai'i, he saw a notice on a bulletin board for a bodyguard and orderly for a Navy officer. The requirements were close, and knowing that his mission was in effect a suicide missiion, he decided to apply.

The officer who interviewed him grilled him pretty hard. When Dad listed his prior orderly service, the man growled at him "Are you a goddam retread?" "Sir, yes sir, I am a goddam retread Sir!" Dad was quite happy to distract him, as his prior orderly service had been for the captain of the battleship, and was his convalescent duty for all of about two weeks after the gun had blown. The man told Dad he was everything they could want, and more. Would he like to meet the man he was to guard and serve? Sir yes Sir. The man went and knocked on an adjoining door, opened it, and said "Admiral Spruance, would you like to meet your new orderly?"

This led to some interesting times for Dad, including sleeping on the Hiroshima bomb. For today, that is it. This month marks both his birth and his death. Thanks for reading and letting me share a few memories of a man who loved his fellow Marines with the same passion he hated high command, and who taught me a lot of very valuable life lessons and skills.

LW

I Do Empathize

Army Wife Toddler Mom is having trouble with a stubborn father. Believe me, I can empathize.

Dad was many things, among them stubborn. That can be a good thing, and it can be a bad thing.

When he was younger, it meant not letting a little thing like an axe in the leg slow him down. As he got older, well...

He was at work one day (after his 70th birthday, I might add) when he began to feel bad. He kept going, until he more or less collapsed and required an ambulance. Turns out that a group of emphysema cysts had gotten together on his lung and blown out, collapsing his lung and him. Had the lung not dropped, I suspect he would have just kept going. Several surgeries later to fix that and prevent others, he was unceremoniously fired for not being able to come back to work and do all he had before. It was also during this time that he did something that let us know what was to come.

Mom was supposed to go on a school trip to Ireland and England, as one of the chaperones. She started to cancel, and Dad argued that she should go. After all, it was paid for and the doctors all swore that he would live until she got back, and on and on. Mom ended up going, after putting up pre-made meals, arranging for people to check on him, take him to the grocery or wherever as needed as he was not yet cleared to drive, and so forth.

Dad saw her off like a good Marine, chin up, and played the goodbye scene just right. Then, as soon as he knew she was gone and the ride not coming back (an hour or so), he hopped in the car and drove to the local Nu-Way hotdog stand for a delicious and deadly chili dog...

There was a big list of no-no's for him, and I think he took it as a challenge. He evaded, bribed, intimidated, possibly man-handled, or otherwise dealt with his keepers to do many of them. None of the truly big things, but he chipped away at the list a little at a time with yard work, garden work, and more. He knew he could do, and would not accept otherwise, and was also determined that Mom and everyone else know he could as well.

In later years he got very devious and sneaky for evading the full effect of doctors. After we lost Mom, it got worse. Worse to the point that he had problems, and refused to deal with them. It came to a head one day when he had a series of small strokes -- and made a pot of coffee, sat at the kitchen table, drank it, and cried for most of the day. He was scared of the change, of not being able to do, and the future. He was also very unaware of how things had changed in terms of treatments, fortunately his girlfriend and I were not.

It took some effort, especially as we could not trust the only other relative around who could help (long story) to assist, but we worked things so that Dad invited me to move back home to help me out. Had to be that way, you see, as Dad needed no help at all. I put my life and plans on hold, and invested all I had, into a year with him. First up was getting blood pressure and other under control. His girlfriend (who I often refer to as my stepmom, though she legally was not such) got him to his "real" doctor (his GP was useless IMO). This took some effort, but when the Big Mick examined Dad, he was furious. So much so I thought I was in danger, but it was just how much he wanted to thrash/paddle Dad. It worked in that it did intimidate Dad into following most orders, and we were on the road to getting things stabilized. Not to say that there were not some issues with blood thinner and more, or other problems, but we got things to a point where all could be reasonably happy.

Dad continued to push things a bit, which was a good sign for him. When he got back on his feet, I resumed my life and let him have his again. I knew he was pushing, but I also let him do so. To be honest, as much as some of it bothered me, it also amused me and I felt all was right with the world. If he had dropped dead plowing or working his garden, he would have gone happy. We bought him a year of life on his own, not existence, but living.

The end did come, and I was called home because there had been a serious problem. His doctor did what he could, but when we brought Dad home from the hospital to a house that had been handicapped accessed, and he realized that he would have to be cared for 24/7 for the rest of his days and would not be able to go and do, well, he was gone in about four days. In some ways, it still hurts to think of those final days and the end, yet, I also almost always laugh. When I called hospice to let them know that Dad had died at zero-whatever-hours, the person at hospice let out this anguished yelp of "But we just got him!!"

Yes, having a parent or other do what seems to be foolish things is never fun, and is great for getting up the blood pressure and such. Yet, at the same time, I understand why they do so far better than I ever did before. It is a good sign, if you care to think of it that way. As long as they push, then they want to live, not exist. When they stop pushing, that is a bad sign.

If you are in this situation, it is not fun, but enjoy it while you can. It is far better than the alternatives.

LW
yes Tammi, I do come by it honestly...

The Basil Interview Is Up!

No, not the fox. The other Basil has up the Laughing Wolf Interview. My thanks to all who submitted questions, submitted to abuse, and most of all to Basil for his time, effort, and patience on this.

LW

Sometimes It's Not An Accident -- Follow Up

In a conversation with Jan of Cascade Exposures about yesterday's Day-By-Day, the following was too good not to share as a quick post.

"While it is fun to see happen (or do) to a lady, the most fun I had with it was with a male acquaintance. He was wearing a knit shirt, and when we were on the line, all of a sudden I heard a yelp from him. The pistol I was using then kicked the brass hard and far, and one went down his shirt. His comment on that and not doing it again served as a challenge, and the game then became not just punching the center of target, but doing so with the pistol turned such that the brass went his way. Essentially, I was aiming at two targets: the pistol target downrange with the bullet and the open collar on his shirt with the brass. Got pretty good at getting both targets with one shot before the secondary target bailed. Haven't had that much fun since I slipped blanks in on someone one time..."

A fun memory and worth a laugh this morning.

LW

The Answers Are In!

I have sent my answers in to Basil, thought I won't guarantee what type or how accurate they were. My thanks to all who submitted questions, and to Basil for letting me take part.

LW

Sometimes It's Not An Accident

Go read Day By Day (you should be every day anyway). Just sayin...

LW

If You Would Be So Kind

I have a lot of things I want to post and do, but work and life have other plans. I do hope to get to them soon, but in the meantime, if you would be so kind, I would apprecate thoughts and prayers for the best for the relative I mentioned the other day. "E" as I will call them, went to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, which found that the adenocarcinoma is in both lungs, not just one. Along with the fact that it has metastisized into the pelvis and most likely further, and, well hope was for some better news. E faces some tough choices right now, so my thoughts are for what is best and right for them. My thanks in advance for your thoughts and prayers too.

LW

I Really Should Not Have To Say This

But if you get an e-mail purportedly from a bank or credit card company, promising you a chance to win $20.00 if you just take the time to fill out this wonderful survey, and you get it multiple times (and most likely from multiple IPs and with slightly different return addys), just say no. If you don't, don't come crying to me over what happens...

LW

Last Chance

To submit questions to Basil for the interview. Fire away. Answers guaranteed. Straight answers, not so much.

LW
who still has the mental image of being interrogated by a fox...

A Thought On Prayer

Some discussions of late have involved prayer, that is the asking of higher power for something. Prayer is not a Christian thing, but something as close to universal as it may be possible to find in matters religious and spiritual. The historical record is clear that prayers have been offered up from the earliest days.

Such supplications were often aimed at a specific goal: good harvest, the end of winter, the return of spring, death and destruction to enemies, or even for a child of a specific gender. Sometimes, prayer was done with meditation, long periods of penance, or even some form of flagellation or scourging. Often, some form of sacrifice was offered to add weight to the prayer, be it the killing of an animal or simply offering food or drink.

The subject of prayer is oft a touchy one, for there are different ways and there are also some who claim that prayer is only for them and theirs, and as such must be done only in their way. There are those who claim it must be done out loud, whilst others point to verses about closets.

As a child, I prayed for specific things. It may have been a pony, it may have been something else I wanted. Sometimes that want was for a specific person to be made well or otherwise restored to us so that I could spend time with them. As I grew older, there was a period of loss that resulted in my praying for the impossible, that those about whom I cared would be kept alive and unscathed. That I knew it to be impossible did not matter, for it was what I wanted.

That thought resonated later in a different way as I studied theology Christian and other. For I came across something that made me stop and think, in something away from the mainstream. It was a simple thing, a simple prayer, and it resonated strongly within me: Let that which is right, be.

Almost every religion and spiritual path lays claim to one (or more) who are omnipotent and/or all powerful. Such creates the heavens and the earth, guides or directs all that happens, and is wise beyond all understanding. Yet, it often appears that the earthly followers of such spend a large amount of time placing limits upon those beings despite admonitions not to do so.

While there are many examples, is not the foremost way that such is done is through selfish prayer?

Do we not, each time we pray for a specific thing or outcome, say to that higher power "I know better than you what is right and proper, so do it my way?" Are we not placing limits upon them? Are we not thinking of ourselves when we do so, and not about those for whom we pray?

Far too often, I believe, when we pray for something "good" to happen to another, that we are equating good with what we think is best for us. We pray for a miracle cure, so that we may have more time with that person, good times. We pray that someone find a job or otherwise come into a large sum of money so that they can stay where they are, again so that we retain their company or otherwise gain something out of such. At any point in such prayers, does one stop to ask if that is right for the other party? Are we denying them something better by demanding a specific outcome? If we keep them where they are, are we not keeping them from growth? Are we stopping to think that a sudden influx of money could harm them, or that another may have to be harmed for such to happen? Are we considering all the myriad possibilities, or just our own selfish desires?

This is a subject of long and intense theological debate, but for now this will do as some food for thought this Saturday.

And, yes, there are a number of reasons for the discussions of prayer of late via phone, e-mail, and in person. It has been an interesting couple of weeks for some of my friends, from matters job related to health. One who is friend and has a measure of my protection is dealing with a family health crisis. Late this week, I found out that one of my family has Stage IV adenocarcinoma of the lung that has metastasized.

The easy way, the selfish way, for me to go would be to pray for a specific outcome for each of these people. It would be to pray for a specific job, a miracle, or that various people not suffer. Yet to do so would, in my opinion, be in error.

As tempting as it would be to do so, I shall not. Instead, I will do that which is hard, and have the faith of my beliefs and trust.

Let that which is right for each be.

LW

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Corned beef simmering? Check
Cabbage ready to steam? Check
Stout? Check. Re-check. Check

Enjoy your day.

LW

Good Thoughts Needed For Acidman

Rob of Gut Rumbles could use some good thoughts right now. The news from Catfish and Lil Toni is that he is in the hospital with peritonitis. He can't take calls right now, and the reports are that the docs are working hard on him, so take the time to keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

LW

Wolf Park Blogfest: The True Story

Yes, this is very late but I had to wait for law enforcement, various prosecutorial jurisdictions, and the settlement provided Lafayette Brewing before posting.

I knew it was going to be an interesting weekend for myself and for Wolf Park, but I had no idea just how interesting it would be. Friday evening should have tipped me off. It took dogged perseverance and the use of overhead resources to find out that some had come to town early and were descending upon a hapless local eatery for dinner. Wanting to meet people, I went down and found them. I should have known better.

First up, I saw Contagion, or Mr. Huggy as he might better be known. I don't know what happened in his childhood, but I have never met someone so needy about being hugged and touched in my life. Every time you turn around, he wants to hug and touch, or better yet have you hug and touch him. In the immortal words of Dax, Just Damn!

The lovely and charming Ktreva was next on my path, but that was not to be. I was immediately accosted by a dark-haired woman who hit me. And then hit me again on behalf of a woman I've never even met in person. BoBo blogger indeed, the name should be the BamKaPow blogger!

The fourth in that grouping was a tall and lovely lady who's delicious er, attributes were overshadowed by a sleek rump bearing not only ISO 9000 certification stamps, but a Detroit Automotive Premium Choice Quality sticker as well. The turbo-charged talk that poured fourth meant that it could only be the Quality Weenie.

Dinner ended quickly with Kvetra gutting the waitron for slow service, so we adjourned to my home before the cops could arrive. Despite detailed directions, they still managed to get lost, and it took a searchlight to steer them in. Contagion promptly demanded another hug and some Asti, and then they all cut loose. It was a circus of activity, which was augmented by the arrival of Tammi, T1G, BloodSpite and BloodSpouse. The carnage is beyond description, and thanks to Quality Weenie, my chandeliers will never be the same.

The next day saw us off to the Tippacanoe Battlefield and then to Wolf Park. At the Battlefield, we were joined by this strange guy who would beat on anything and everything with sticks. The lady with him promptly pulled out bright lights and a rubber hose and used them on me as she demanded to know things like the average rise and fall of wolves in the Bay of Fundy. It could only have been Bodhran and his better half.

It was an ominous foreshadowing of the tragedy to come that Harvey ran late, and made Smiling Dynamite late as well. They arrived, and promptly ran off with Tammi to talk; unfortunately, no one knew where they went and they did not answer yells or phone, so everyone left for the park but we did leave trails of breadcrumbs for them. It was even more ominous when Harvey arrived late at the park, stuffed from the crumbs.

We have agreed not to talk too much about things, both for reasons legal and out of respect for Smiling Dynamite. Yet, the picture here tells the tale, for Harvey -- Mr. Loves To Camp And The Outdoors -- fell behind once again, but at least was rated a tasty bread-stuffed dish.

Later, at the celebration wake, as Smiling Dynamite did a twist-and-shout of mourning on the table, this guy showed up, though Ifni alone knows why. How on Earth a nice guy like him came to want to hang with this group of reprobates is beyond me.

Everyone seems convinced that it was cold, and I just don't understand it. It was barely brisk that day.

In truth, it was great to meet old friends again, and to meet the wonderful and lovely BoBo and the delightful and lovely Quality Weenie. BloodSpite and BloodSpouse were strangers and now known, and it was fun to meet Wes and be interrogated by his better half. A true pleasure it was to answer her questions and explore possibilities. It was also good to meet Jerry, though I still think he was crazy to come join the group.

My thanks to all who participated, and I look forward to seeing many of you here again, and most especially out at the Park.

For those who could not make it to Wolf Park, but would like to live vicariously, you can shop the Gift Shop online; find out about Wolf Park Seminars; sign up for Wolf Park Photography Seminars with Monty Sloan; sponsor a wolf or fox; donate towards general needs or specific needs such as ramps, enclosure improvements, or other; and, check out the Wolf Park Photos of the Day.

LW

I'm Getting Grilled

Well, at least questioned. I am next up for an interview with Basil so get on over there and ask questions. I will answer any and all, though such may be creative. Possibly very creative. I hope you are as creative in your questions as I may be in the answers. Just remember, this is your chance to ask and be answered...

LW

Welcome Phinlet!

Let the word go forth, that somewhere close to 0200 hours Mrs. Phin did give birth. Both mother and baby are reported to be doing fine, and no one bothered to check on Phin. All the best to them, and to the new arrival:

May the light shine on you, warm you with love, light your path, and armor you against the dark; and, may your life be filled with health, happiness, joy, wonder, and wealth.

LW

A Belated Welcome

To a new blogger, Valerie of Accidental Verbosity. I really meant to do this the day of arrival, but goofed, and for that my profound apologies to her, Sadie, Jay, and most of all to Deb. Welcome lady, and may the light shine on you, warm you with love, light your path, and armor you against the dark; and, may your life be filled with health, happiness, joy, wonder, and wealth.

LW

The Start Of Some Changes

I can't do all I would like, but I've started to re-do the blogroll a bit. Time, and the inability to reliably access MuNu, are slowing it down, but I am glad to have up a new list of those bloggers I have met.

Now, I have included Denny on here though the meeting was brief. In point of fact, he was grouchy, and may have run screaming like a girl when Eric began to sing... That's my story, and I may stick with it. Maybe not...

With a bit of luck, more changes soon. Many more, including design and some changes designed to promote more discourse. We will see. Meantime, I really do hope to have up my Howl on the Prowl wrap-up soon...

LW

Book Review: Kildar by John Ringo

A few weeks ago, I posted a review of John Ringo's book Ghost as part of a series looking at the "gaming" of scenarios that can't be touched except as something like fiction. That work examined the true nature and face of the enemy, the enemy within, and the costs that can go with battle. There were a few who blew it off for superficial reasons, but that is their loss.

John has out a new book in the series, Kildar. Once again, he has a lot of fun, there is some food for thought on several levels, and we have the fun of reading it (and laughing ourselves silly). For those who complained about some of the absurdities liberties taken in the first book, the second is a bit more down to Earth in those respects. Maybe.

I won't spoil it for you by going into details other than to say that Ghost buys the farm, and all the farmer's daughter jokes you can handle (or not, some are weak). But you just know that you are going to enjoy any book that starts with:

"This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book and series has no connection to reality. Any attempt by the reader to replicate any scene in this series is to be taken at the reader's own risk. For that matter, most of the actions of the main character are illegal under U.S. and international law as well as most of the stricter religions in the world. There is no Valley of the Keldara. Heck, there is no Kildar. And the idea of some Scots and Vikings getting together to raid the Byzantine Empires is beyond ludicrous. The islands described in a previous book do not exist. Entire regions described in these books do not exist. Any attempt to learn anything from these books is disrecommended by the author, the publisher and the author's mother who wishes to state that he was a very nice boy and she doesn't know what went wrong."

It only gets better. Highly recommended.

LW
who hopes he does get redshirted for voting in that romance book competition... Also, if you have not read Princess of Wands, you should.

Real Bar-B-Que

Well, it seems the Phinny One and I both watched Alton Brown the other day, and I admit that Good Eats did indeed make me hungry. I have found some okay Bar-B-Que up here (or BBQ if you prefer), but nothing like I was used to getting in the South. So, Friday I splurged a bit and picked up a pork shoulder, bone in (also a Pot Roast, but that's another episode) and brought it home. I brined it in roughly three quarts of water, 12oz kosher salt, 3/4 cup molasses, good pinch of chipotle, and .5 cup (maybe a bit more) of apple cider vinegar for about 12 hours. I then drained, rubbed with truffle oil (olive oil will do), placed it on the grill, fired up the side smoker, and let it go for about 10 hours at no less than 150 and no more than 225, trying to keep it close to 210. Made up a quick batch of sauce featuring apple cider vineger, white vineger, balsamic vineger, sourwood honey, smoked paprika, dash of truffle oil, pinch of cinnamon, fresh ground pepper, granulated garlic, a pinch of chipotle, and tomato sauce. Think that was it, just something I do to taste these days. Used this, and the juices from the pork shoulder, to baste periodically. Used lots and lots of hickory chunks, along with applewood chips and a small amount of mesquite chunks. Just finished pulling it, and got about 7 good individual servings of very tasty pork. Watching the snow fall, I am very glad I cooked yesterday...

LW
who notes that BBQ is not grilling, but cooking long on low heat with high smoke...

This Be The Life

It is snowing and pretty out. My new cafe-au-lait scented candles arrived last week, and three are currently filling the upstairs of the lair with light and scent. I have taxes to a point that I can send them to the accountant, and pray that I get money back this year. There are other bits and pieces that make life good. Plan to enjoy it as much as I can the rest of the day.

LW