You start out writing a few thoughts here and there, just as you would think them while driving or doing some task. Sometimes it is because something hurts and there is no one to tell. Sometimes it is a revelation of errors made or aspirations hoped for – things maybe you are embarrassed to talk about. There are times you just want to be whimsical.

Then  you tell one person, and then another, and then someone who knows you so very well – who has always been smarter than you. And you start to think, “Oh, I can’t write that.”

Sometimes you make the decision that you will, because you need to be who you are.

CNN has a story about the money spent by taxpayers in relation to the children of divorce and out of wedlock situations. That is a lot of money. I could say more . . . I won’t.

Last week, I mentioned a festival – a cornbread one – in a post about a Celtic gathering in Maryland.

I have been looking into it a little more and found The Cornbread Gospels and Crescent Dragonwagon. Now, I have a suspicion Crescent Dragonwagon is not her real name, but then again I am somewhat limited in my knowledge of cultural names. I happened upon her while looking at the stuff that is going to be at the National Cornbread Festival in New Pittsburg, Tennessee. (Do you realize how hard it is not to put a “h” on the end of Pittsburg, you New Pittsburgians?) Well, anyway she will be autographing her book and providing historical information on cornbread.

I don’t care for cornbread, but I like festivals. Will Bayou Billy be at this one? He’s my favorite drink vendor, you know – who has been coming to the Kendallville, Indiana Apple Festival, but apparently is NOT this year. Please rethink this, Bayou. It’s okay if I call you by your first name, right?

But back to Ms. Dragonwagon – ACK! I’m slow – being a visual person, I missed the auditory pun until now. Anyway, here is her picture with cornbread which includes this comment:

“To those of us for whom cornbread is
religion, Crescent Dragonwagon is our
favorite evangelist — her voice engaging
and fiery, inspiring us to diversify our daily bread: from the thin-and-lacy, to the glazed drop scone, to the cheese coin.

But we bet the unconverted will flock to THE CORNBREAD GOSPELS, too, for its wisdom—such as how to cut fresh corn from the cob
and the proper way to store stone-ground cornmeal—and its downright delicious recipes.”

Matt Lee and Ted Lee, The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook

And here is her website. I think she’s written a new book about vegetarian cooking, but after the missed pun, I don’t know if I can trust my brain.

Now that the snow pack has completely melted off and the trapped leaves beneath it been raked – to some degree – I see that the driveway is not where we assumed it was. That is, to be blunt about it, the actually cement is closer to the spruce tree and farther away from the hedge. We had been quite comfortable making the curve between the two, using the frozen snow path as a guide. As it turns out, the spruce stretched out at the bottom and we were making a bigger arc.

AmeliaJake with clippers . . . Ah, the thought is scary, and gets scarier when I think of putting a ladder against the trunk and just dropping those lower branches. Hey, I’ve been watching Ax Men. Maybe if I watched the show while staying at an Holiday Inn Express, I would be a real expert.

AmeliaJake with a chain saw!!! Yes!!! The possibilities . . .

From: BMD Workbench

I know the thing in my kitchen is not an icebox; it is a refrigerator – I sometimes call it an icebox, though.

The summer I was born, my father delivered blocks of ice for iceboxes. He was a teacher then and I think he worked for my great uncle’s ice business. My grandmother had an icebox, I’m certain. I vaguely remember it. But then we also had a 1948 Frigidaire and to tell you the truth, I don’t know if it is still working or not. I know it was a few years ago. It had this little, tiny freezer compartment that came down like a nodule from the inside top – and icecube trays that had a little ratchet type release handle.

I have always been behind the times when it has come to icebox improvements. I did not have an icemaker for decades . . . and only a few years ago did I get a refrigerator that dispenses ice through the door, as well as chilled water – which I don’t use.

Yesterday, the divider that separates the freezer part and the refrigerator half got really hot. I vacuumed the coils, but that didn’t help. So I called the local repairman; he made a point of getting over last night and found the hose for the water had blocked the compressor fan. So he unblocked it. I paid him and he left, and then I turned to the newly-revealed accumulation of gunky dirt in the refrigerator area and thought, “Oh, my God.” So we made a stab at cleaning it. I took no pictures, no pictures at all.

Gosh, I’m a yucky housekeeper . . . I need a maid – or to move every year.

Say, that picture above? Wouldn’t it be nice if I could be “restored” to my earlier days . . .