August 30, 2010
One of my favorite thing about our recent trip to Scotland was knowing that our parents had stayed in the hotel we were staying in (as does Sean Connery, woot woot), and knowing as we visited some of the sights that they had seen some of the same places. The floral clock was featured on one (at least) of the many slides Dad took on his trips to his homeland, one with Mom, one alone, and one with his brother just as I was there with my sister.
August 29, 2010
August 28, 2010
I say mostly as this first link is not necessarily spiritual, an essay on caregiving from The Atlantic, but it ties in, I think.
The Cloud of Unknowing, a book I have always meant to read (such a great title) but have not yet gotten around to...or the fact this site is the ethereal library.
I was surprised but not displeased to find an old essay of mine on beliefnet, a site I have turned to in the past for interesting stuff - and now here's the Pennies from Heaven essay.
Another beliefnet link I think I have posted before - a beautiful online rendering of the 23rd Psalm, like a shortcut to God on tough days. And here, another from my saved favorites and turns out to be another beliefnet link - an interview with Rosanne Cash I thought interesting.
And lastly, mainly because dinner is being served in the next room, a link to a blog that has closed recently, one that held some interesting thoughts - and as I went through my "spiritual blogs" saved in my favorites - blogs ranging from Catholic to Muslim - I noticed that most of them were no longer running. All of them voiced some well why bother or it's too hard or I give up sort of farewell theme, and a number said the comments had gotten too difficult for them to handle. I find this sad and a bit alarming. I love the multitude of voices and opinions, views and insights, rants and thoughtful offerings found on the web. I don't care if I agree with them. I like to dip in, see what someone else sees through their eyes, from their experience. Do we have to all be on the same page to enjoy the story?
August 26, 2010
August 23, 2010
Or maybe walk - because running could lead to dangerous things like slipping or tripping or banging into someone. There are POTENTIAL DANGERS everywhere! Like petting zoos. Thank goodness this article alerted me to this. Also on the no list - tree climbing (could fall), exploring (could get lost), beachcombing (could cut self on shells), running under sprinklers (could slip and fall and should not waste water), street fairs and carnivals (from cotton candy to carnies, I shudder to think), parks (germs, falling, other kids could taunt you and give com...plex, possibly squirrels - you never know about squirrels), walking in woods (oh c'mon, there's lions and tigers and bears - and trees could give splinters), playing with anything except freshly washed plastic toys (except the big legos from China as they have lead), hugging a teacher (could be a pedophile, you never know), reading a book (get a kindle before you get a papercut!), helping parents around house (chemicals and potential servant complex), talking to family members (years of therapy), catching lightning bugs (dark outside is potential hazard, touching bugs), catching frogs (oh. my. gosh.), having a mud pie tea party (officer, this woman is on drugs), fishing (PETA, help!), baking a pie (you let them eat carbs?), muffins and cookies (ditto), running, jumping, leaping, dancing, singing, touching, cartwheeling, breathing, laughing (this woman lives on Planet Claire and seriously needs meds)....
Several photos of the mysterious Loch Ness - in one, do you see that wee ripple? Could be a wave or a sturgeon or the flash of light on water, could be Nessie. In honor of Edwin Morgan, the Scottish Poet Laureate or as they say the Scots Makar, here is a link of him reading his poem, The Loch Ness Monster's Song. Do click on the audio portion, it's great fun. Here's another obit with a lovely photo of him younger. I love that he loved Wuthering Heights (Heathcliff!), those moors and fire and hate and love. Yup, the stuff of poets. Peace to you. Mar sin leibh.
August 22, 2010
When you're lost in the rain in Juarez
And it's Eastertime too
And your gravity fails
And negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs
When you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there
And they really make a mess outa you.
Now if you see Saint Annie
Please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
My fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength
To get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor
Won't even say what it is I've got.
The peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English
And she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind
And careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon.
Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick up one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin' to get silly
You better go back to from where you came
Because the cops don't need you
And man they expect the same.
Now all the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
Into leaving his post
And picking up Angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking just like a ghost.
I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough.
- Bob Dylan, Tom Thumb's Blues
August 19, 2010
With many thanks to my sister, we had a lovely High Tea one afternoon at the Caledonian Hotel. Note the photo when you click on the highlighted link - on the top tier to the right is a tea cake that was delicious - the waiter was not very up on what was in the cake, he asked the kitchen and they said "fruit cake". Kind of too general so I have google imaged a thousand cakes and came up with this one that seemed close to appearance. A Dark Genoa Cake. Versus a light one. What makes it dark? I don't know. I cannot even find a recipe for it and have emailed a blogger friend in the cooking-know (who also seems to read a lot of sleuthing books so I have hopes!)to see if she might track something down.
Dear Readers, do you think it is a Genoa Cake? I have some concerns it might be a different kind of fruit tea cake like a Selkirk or a Sultana Fruit cake when I have looked online but none of those had that darkness to them that the photo of the Genoa had. Do you know what such a cake is? Do we have recipes?
The call is out.
August 18, 2010
August 17, 2010
Hot and humid but something in the air and sky, you can feel that fall is on the edges saying my turn soon. Or maybe my thoughts just turn to crafts and tea and books and the way I really like the good-at-home feel of autumn. I wonder if it's an age thing or just genetic melancholy.
Love this pirate artplay mini-quilt - think I will have to locate that book also mentioned on this link somewhere....worth the browse, I am sure.
Time for some round-ups soon but it's far too late at night. Have to leave it at this additional link for crafts fun. Now if I would actually make some of them instead of just thinking what a keen idea. But of course there is still something soothing and appealing about just looking at crafts. Like reading cookbooks when you really don't cook.
August 15, 2010
August 12, 2010
Nah. Would have loved to bring this back for the husband. Interesting shop owner telling us that his dogs have passports so they can travel to Spain and back to Edinburgh, Scotland. Had no idea there were doggy passports. What a nice gig, larking about Europe looking for cool things for the shop. I have wild boar in a baby bonnet in a pram shop owner with two wee dogs envy. Hmmmmm.
August 11, 2010
and so can you should you so desire. You might not churn out Harry Potter but the snacks looked good. This is one of the more famous haunts of one of Edinburgh's most famous writers. We had a nice lunch at another one which I shall post when I am not off to bed yawning. The torn muscle in leg requires Advil which requires sleep apparently. I am apparently Jersey cool considering the man has the same injury I do. Not the Boss man. The other (Jersey) man.
With dreams of Harry's stomping grounds perhaps.