One Week of Food in Different Cultures

Japan : The Ukita family of Kodaira CityFood expenditure for one week: 37,699 Yen or $317.12














Italy: The Manzo family of SicilyFood expenditure for one week: 214.36 Euros or $260.11














United States: The Revis family of North CarolinaFood expenditure for one week: $341.98














Poland: The Sobczynscy family of Konstancin-JeziornaFood expenditure for one week: 582.48 Zlotys or $151.27














Mexico: The Casales family of CuernavacaFood expenditure for one week: 1,862.78 Mexican Pesos or $189.09














Egypt: The Ahmed family of CairoFood expenditure for one week: 387.85 Egyp tian Pounds or $68.53














Ecuador: The Ayme family of TingoFood expenditure for one week: $31.55














Bhutan: The Namgay family of Shingkhey VillageFood expenditure for one week: 224.93 ngultrum or $5.03














Chad: The Aboubakar family of Breidjing CampFood expenditure for one week: 685 CFA Francs or $1.23

We Are All Storytellers

The 35th Annual National Storytelling Festival took place in Jonesborough this past weekend. We were so lucky to get involved in this festival beginning in 2005, our first full year in Tennessee. Each year for the last three years we have had the great fortune to be able to volunteer 6 hours of our time at the event, and in return, have gotten the full weekend pass. If not for that opportunity, we would likely never go, since it costs $155 per person for the entire weekend.

It's an interesting experience, this Storytelling Festival. Somewhere around 10,000 people descend on this bucolic town of about 3400 to listen to people tell stories through words, music, sign language, dance, parable, lies, laughter and tears. It is an emotional roller coaster, but one I would gladly stand in line for. After that first experience in 2005 we knew it would be a new tradition for us, Mr. Dewey and I.

Storytelling has a long and rich tradition in Appalachia, as it does in other parts of the world. It is so important in these parts that East Tennessee State University has a Master's program in it! Along with old time mountain music, it is the lifeblood of the region. Why, there is a master of "storytelling" right here on Stoney Creek what goes by the name of Big Red. He and his buddies gather nightly at Big Red's Produce to tell whoppers. Half the fun of a shopping trip to Red's is reading the signs he has up all over the place ("All you can eat frog legs at Richard Estep's, Friday at 6:00 p.m. Call for reservations").

And half the fun of going to the National Storytelling Festival is watching the people who come to hear the stories! For instance, there are the folks who plan their vacations around the festival, and have done so for 35 years. There are the folks who come from Alaska, Arizona, California, New York, Michigan, and yes, Jonesborough, not to mention Sodom, NC and White House, TN. One of our favorite events at the NSF is dinner. Whether you enjoy it under the tent atop the hill behind the International Storytelling Center, sitting on a bale of hay waiting for the next teller, or in the Old Quarters at a table with folks from "off", you come meet new friends and share stories.

One year, as John and I enjoyed dinner at the Old Quarters, we enlightened a couple of women from New England about the topography and geology of the area. We informed them that the Blue Ridge Mountains are the oldest mountains in the world, and 500 million years ago were twice the height of the Himalayas. After these lovely people left, a couple from Harlan, Kentucky, who had been listening quietly, said "You know, that thing you were saying about the mountains here: I've never heard that before. How does that fit into God's plan?" As John choked on his pecan pie, I just said "Well, friend, I guess you'll have to ask Him!" This year we sat with a gentleman who came from my home town of Crest Hill, Illinois, and told me about the new 55-and-over housing development on Weber Road, in what was once part of the Trustee Farm of Stateville Prison, not 3 miles from the house I grew up in.

I can't help but watch the other folks at the festival. We were enjoying one African-American storyteller, Tejumola Ologboni, as he was dancing, singing, and playing a traditional African drum. We couldn't NOT move to that beat and that energy. In front of us, though, a couple who were perhaps in their early 60s, sat, unmoved, as he performed. A few others were the same, although most were jumping in their seats with the rhythm of that Djembe drum. I thought "these folks are not into this AT ALL." What a strange and wonderful surprise it was, when Teju was done, to see this couple jump to their feet and give a rousing ovation, only to sit down again just as quickly and return to their taciturn demeanor!

One of the great personal ironies of coming to this festival was seeing Kevin Kling. We lived in Minneapolis for more than 20 years and had to move a thousand miles away to finally see Kevin live. But oh! was it worth the wait! In the three years since he first came to the NSF, he has become the darling of the festival. His Midnight Cabaret event (which, in perfect Minnesota fashion began at 10:30) sold out earlier than any cabaret in the history of the festival. He brought the house down with his feverish retelling of childhood events, turned the audience over with a heartbreaking story about a couple and a train, and then brought us all to our feet - after bringing us to our knees - with his humility and strength as he talked about what he has gained from losing the use of his only good arm. Anyone who left that tent uninspired had to have come out with a white sheet over them.

The energy that flows from this festival is like food, like sustenance. It revives a tired soul and brings light to a dark room. As Teju said, "There is no performer and there is no audience; we are one". And this oneness with the performer and the others in the audience makes the festival an event like no other. Exhausted as we were, we were also energized. Like Teju said "If you aren't dancing, don't blame your shoes!"

Do You Agree?

According to my Uncle Bill, I've aged well. I'll be 46 next week. Whaddaya say?

We Took A Little Trip Over Labor Day

We had a 4-day weekend - probably the last of such for a while, as John starts training this week for a new job within NFS. That means no more 3-day weekends, and it will soon mean a real change, as John goes to the night shift. We are strangely fascinated by the idea of this possibly monumental change in our lives. Surprised? You shouldn't be. After all, our mantra has always been "We are nothing if not flexible". Soon we shall see just how well we live up to our mantra.

In the meantime, we decided to head up to West Virginia for the weekend. We had been to WVA just a few weeks before, remember, when we made the trip with June to her ancestral home in Hemlock. This time we had two goals: explore the New River Gorge and also an area quite a bit north of there in and around the Blackwater Falls State Park. Oh, it was fun!

The New River Gorge is beautiful, and boasts longest single span bridge and the second-highest, at almost 900 feet, in the US. Here is a picture of John standing in front of a massive rock with the bridge (part of it, anyway) in the background. Pretty neat, huh?

Before this bridge was built in 1977, a traveler wishing to cross the New River had to drive down a winding road to this spot and cross a single-lane wooden bridge, which still stands. There used to be a mining town there, but that is gone. The trip across the river would take about 40 minutes top to bottom to top again.

Every year, about this time, there is a festival the closes down the bridge so crazy people can bungee jump or parasail from it. We are not crazy. We are flexible, but not crazy.

This area is mostly interesting for people who like to climb rock cliffs (we don't), whitewater raft (we haven't, but may, someday), parasail (see above), and hike. So, we did a little hiking, but mostly decided to save it for the next time. It is about 3 hours from us, so it could even be a day trip.

So, we headed north toward Blackwater Falls State Park. After a few detours (Google is not perfect) and side trips, we made it. One interesting side trip was to a little town called Phillipi. It is on the Tygert River, which claims to be to only spot in the US to boast a 5.0 earthquake, a Cat 1 Hurricane and an F3 tornado in the same place (but not at the same time). It is also the spot where the first land battle of the Civil War took place. We got the lowdown from a very sweet little lady in the Phillipi Museum, which is next to the Phillipi Covered Bridge - the nation's longest covered bridge, and one that is very much still in use. The beams still have musket holes from that Civil War battle.

Along our way, we came upon a wind farm. It is not very far from Thomas, West Virginia and can be seen from the motel in which we stayed. It got me to thinking about all the hubbub about wind farms that we are hearing, these days. Ted Kennedy is against having one in his back yard, as is nephew Bobby, Jr., as is our own Tennessee Senator, Lamar Alexander (who owns property near the proposed wind farm the Kennedys are fighting to stop). Funny. I would rather see this any day:














Than this, which is the alternative that is being greenlighted by the EPA:









The funny thing is that most of the arguments you hear against wind farms are that they are ugly. Again, I offer, for your consideration: which is uglier? This:




















Or this:














I thought so.

Now the other argument, oddly enough, the one that doesn't get heard all that much, is that wind farms kill birds and bats. Now, we are bird-lovers. We are bat-lovers. We belong to Bat Conservation International, which, by the way, has a great article on this very subject. It is a problem, but it is one that they are pretty confident can be mitigated, with the proper research, which requires the proper funding. Which they aren't getting. BCI is working on it, though, and could use everyone's support - either by writing Congress to provide funding, or by donating to the organization yourselves.

We need to make wind farms a reality, and learn to love them like we love our ugly uncle, so we see more of this:














and less of this:













and no more of this:






OK! Enough with the roadside sermon, and on with the trip!

We spent the a good bit of time riding our bikes around the paved roads inside Blackwater Falls SP, saw some deer, some great waterfalls, had a few good meals, and came home. It was a great trip. We've pretty much decided that this area of West Virginia will be our new destination, as the North Shore was for us when we lived in Minnesota. It's good to have a getaway place. If you don't currently have one, I suggest you get a move on!

Old-Time Religion in Elizabethton - 225 Years Worth!

Yesterday we did something we haven't done in a long time: we went to church. It was my first Sunday service in about 35 years, and it had been probably 20 or more for John. What was it that brought us into the fold after all these years? Friendship and history.

The Reverend John Shuck has been the Pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton since about the same time we moved here. We've gotten to know and be friends with John and several of his parishioners over the last 7 or 8 months, as we've worked to help build and coalesce the Peace and Justice movement in the Tri-Cities. They have been strong supporters of Concerned TN Citizens since the beginning!

Well, as you may have figured out by now, this area has a lot of history. Elizabethton and nearby Jonesborough are the oldest communities west of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Before it was Elizabethton it was the Watauga Settlement. The area played prominently in both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, and re-enactments are abundant. (Our friends Scott and Melanie Koenig, along with their daughter, Laurel, are spirited re-enactors who frequently participate in encampments, musters, and living history performances in the region.)

And not many years after the United Stated gained its independence, First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton was born. This Autumn marks the 225th anniversary of the founding of that church. It is only natural, therefore, that the church should kick off the commemoration by holding its own re-enactment. This one was done in the form of a sermon from the Reverend Horace C. Atwater, Pastor of the church in the 1870s. A hundred or so of his sermons were found and saved by a parishioner long after Atwater had died. Most of the sermons have been turned over to the Archives of Appalachia at ETSU. Five are kept at the church, however, in their own library and archives. One of these sermons was given yesterday by John, who gamely played the part of a circuit minister. The entire service was done according to what would have taken place around 1876, with old hymns, prayers, scripture readings, and even a string band (complete with washtub bass) to guide the flock through "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder", "Shall We Gather at the River", and "Amazing Grace". The service was then followed up with a "Dinner on the Ground", although that was modernized to include the comfort of the air-conditioned reception hall (for which we thank Whomever).

Many of the regular worshippers dressed in period costumes and joined in the sermon with an occasional "Amen, Brother!" and "Praise the Lord!". The sermon itself was fascinating - much was given to the notion that religion must not be controlled by government, and that people can and should think for themselves. Even 230 years ago First Pres was progressive! It is more so now, with a Peacekeeping Committee, a sign-waving protesting pastor, and a committee being formed to help guide First Pres as it strives to become a "Green Congregation". We were thrilled to count 10 Priuses in addition to our own in the parking lot! Progressive, indeed! Thanks, John and all the Congregation of First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton!

You Can Tell It's Satire Because They Aren't Spitting, Sneering, Swearing or Snarling

Australian Senator Discusses Oil Spill - Watch more free videos

Mr. Dewey Speaks!

That's right, folks. You asked to hear more from Mr. Dewey, and you got it! Now, it may amaze some of you to hear that, since leaving CNT, John has spent little time in front of the computer. He rarely checks email, doesn't surf the web, doesn't blog, and doesn't even know what FaceBook is (frankly, neither do I, but whatever).

So, in order to give you a taste of life down this way from Mr. Dewey's point of view, I've decided to simply give you a page or two out of his journal. Don't worry! I haven't broken some sacred trust and picked the lock on his diary (he is a guy, after all). This is a practical - one might even say pragmatic - record of events. So grab a beverage, pull up a comfy chair, grab your mouse, and prepare to learn about Mr. Dewey's world!

June 27th:
Low 90's, sunny.
AI Stretching. Stretched through AI Zones 2,3,4.
Breakfast: Snad's quiche, German dark Bread toast, peach cobbler.
NFS: Loaded 5 IMs. Hot day to be workin'!
Mike's Front Porch: Mike drove Snad and the dogs to his house in the morning. They spent the day working (with help from June) on Mike's front porch. They removed more paint from the deck, washed down the wall, and tried (unsuccessfully) to remove the paint from the front steps. By the time I arrived they were just readying stuff for staining the deck. They used a blue-gray stain that really complements the orange, earthy colors of the rest of the porch area. I put some tools down in the basement but didn't help out any more - all dragged-out from being in the sun and heat all day at work.
Naptime: After doing my AI stretches I stretched out on the boys' bed and took about a ninety-minute nap. Boy did I need that nap!
Supper: I drove to pal's and picked up a chicken sammich and stuff for the others.
I got to bed around 11 pm - a long day for Mr. Dewey!

June 28th:

Low 90s, sunny: scattered showers after 4 pm.

AI Stretching - nope, forgot to do any stretching.
Breakfast: scrambled eggs with some of Snad's vegetable torte, German dark bread toast, mixed fruit.
NFS: loaded 6 iMs. Monthly total 72. Another hot, sunny day.
Lunch: the last of Snad's dry rub BBQ pork loin, tater salad, carrots, mixed fruit, peach cobbler.
Snad has worked to get Chester acclimated to Yancey. When I got home from work they were all downstairs in the library. Chester and Yancey have been learning how to play together and seemed to be enjoying themselves a lot.
Snad mowed the lawn today. She also washed two loads of wash but didn't hang them on the clothesline, thinking it might rain. Snad canned a bunch of peach jam - 12 1/2 pints (yum! in advance of tasting the results).
After I got home we packed up Chester and went to Mike's. His front porch deck looks great. I really like the blue-gray color of the stain they used.
Supper: Chicago-style hot dogs at TK's Big Dogs in downtown Kingsport. Per Mike's suggestion i tried one with a pretzel-style bun. I liked it because it's sturdy enough to stand up to the Chicago-style ingredients.
Each Thursday during the summer Kingsport has their Twilight Alive. It's downtown on the Market and broad Sts intersection by TK's. The opening band was Rob Russell and the Sore Losers. They were followed by Southern Culture on the Skids. I enjoyed both groups. Once again I was impressed by the number of audience members who were obviously 60 or older. (Southern Culture on the Skids = SCOTS = hillbilly surfin!)

June 29th:
Mid-80s; thunderstorm after 8 pm.
SB - total body stretch
Started extending one leg for an entire set, switching to the other for the next set for: AI Arm Shoulder Press, Seated Biceps Curls, Squat Against the Wall - no slowdown during biceps reps but still challenging for my legs. Yoga: Sage Marichi III Pose. I really like this pose though it will be some time before I can do it well.
Breakfast: waffles, spicy breakfast sausage, mixed fruit.
Grackle families have begun attacking the metal bird feeder this week, driving away other birds. I moved the tension adjuster to the lightest position hoping they would find it too bothersome to continue their attacks.
Today was paint day for the ceiling of Mike's front porch. He asked me to bring the power spray painter for the job, So I got to learn how to use it all over again. It started out slowly as I couldn't figure out why the owner's manual tells me to remove the spray tip and then select either "Prime" or "Spray". It took way too long for me to spot a switch on the chassis with those settings!
Lunch: Snad's chicken salad, somen tsuyu. Powerful good.
Mike did the actual spray painting. It went quickly, with good coverage. Mike, Snad and June continued painting other parts of the porch while I cleaned up the power sprayer. Mike used latex paint which meant soap and water would suffice to clean up the sprayer; however, it took me a long time to do it. The porch looks swell!
Supper: Acoustic burrito at the acoustic coffeehouse. Snad, Mike, June and Regina and I spent an hour or so chatting up a storm. Regina teaches Spanish at Sullivan (where Mike teaches) if enough students sign up. Otherwise, it's English.
We could see dark clouds building out the windows of the coffeehouse so we hurried back to Mike's to get things packed up. Snad and I played Casino after we got home before calling it a night.

July 22nd:
Low 80s, mostly sunny.
Cindy's exercises. she's got the most concentrated collection of abs and lower back-specific exercises out of all my routines. Started doing my balance-specific yoga poses again. each day i plan to do one flexibility and one balance pose. Today I did the downward-facing dog and revolved triangle poses. Modified the aerobics worksheet in my exercise spreadsheet. I'm tracking aerobic exercise data, distance and time. On the main worksheet I use to track and schedule daily exercise I've got 43 lines - one line per day. That's 6 weeks to complete one cycle through all the exercise routines.
Breakfast: oatmeal with all the fixin's.
The privet hedge along the side of the garage was 7 feet tall at its highest and obscured the electric meter. I trilled the hedge to about 4 feet high.
The evergreen hedge along the front of the house was creeping into the front porch and crowding the sidewalk as well as I trimmed the front and rear of that as well. all the trimmin's are now sitting in the fire ring.
I planted a St. John's Wort in the new flower garden by the end of the garage.
Perry and her boys arrived after noon. It's been months since we've seen them so we were happy they could join us. Guthrie and Coburn spent the afternoon playing with Ben and Lucas. for part of that time they rallied round our big aluminum water sprinkler. Perry's mom, Hunter, also joined in the festivities [ed note: not the sprinkler, but the day in general].
Late afternoon Snad served up a wonderful meal: Jamaican peanut butter/banana grilled chicken with wonderful barley salad with all kinds of veggies, tomatoes with wonderful mozzarella cheese, olives.
Snad baked a terrific apple cobbler today with cinnamon scones [biscuits] providing cover for the apples.
Once comfortably stuffed with supper, Perry, Mike, Snad and I played Casino. Snad refreshed Hunter on the rules and she took Perry's place in a second game. Perry and company left after 7 pm. Snad read aloud from "The Fellowship" on the back deck.

Aug 10th:
Mid 70s, mostly sunny.
West Virginia trip: Walkies! Walked about a mile following a path the semi-circles through the 100 or so acre property [of June's Grandparent's farm, which is now kept as a retreat by the GPs' 8 children, including June's mother, Ilene].
Before we left Ilene's [to head to the family retreat at Hemlock], Ilene took me on a tour of the various flower gardens around her yard - very beautiful, they were. Snad and I took Chester dog for a short walk in the neighborhood as well.
Breakfast: bagels and cream cheese, breakfast sammiches, cantaloupes, cinnamon rolls.
Hemlock: We arrived at June's grandparents farm around noon. It's a good thing we stopped at Buckhannon last night. The heavy fog combined with the small country road would have presented real problems - we probably would have gotten lost. This little area is called Hemlock. Ilene said her parents' farm is about 100 acres in size. Hemlock is about 3500 feet in elevation and in a small valley. This is a very beautiful, mountainous area. Lots of trails and small roads mean four wheelers (ATVs) are an important mode of transportation.
Snad and I and June all took turns napping after we got to Hemlock. Snad and Pat [Ilene's husband] took off for a ride on his ATV while I was napping. After I got up I took a hike up the hill at the back of the property and made a semicircle around to a big ATV road that winds up near the house. Snad met me about a "block" from the house and gave me a ride up the road.
Supper: Ilene created a wonderful dish - big pasta shells stuffed with ricotta cheese, covered with marinara and melted mozzarella cheese. Lots of chopped veggies, tomatoes from our garden, bread.
As you may recall researchers are attempting to breed a Chestnut tree that is resistant to the chestnut blight. Even today American Chestnuts will grow to s certain age before succumbing to the blight. Researchers have created a hybrid that is 99% American Chestnut and 1% Chinese Chestnut. During my walk I discovered three 3" PVC tubes sticking a couple feet out of the ground. Pat said Chestnut hybrid seedlings are planted inside those tubes.
A magnificent fire ring is placed off to the side of the house. It's built from stone and is about 6 feet wide and 2 feet tall. After a great deal of effort and the expenditure of a couple pints of kerosene I was able to get a satisfactory fire going. It took Snad and Ilene and me probably half an hour to collect enough wood (most of it on the wet side). We all sat around the fire for an hour or so before Pat and Ilene decided to call it a night.
Us three young'uns soaked up the campfire for another hour after Ilene and Pat left. We then laid along the driveway near the house and watched for meteors, of which we saw several. June said she had never seen a meteor streaking across the sky before!

What Moses Would Say if He Granted Interviews

I-35 Bridge Collapse

Mr. Dewey comes in every morning at about 4:45 am to say "good-bye" as he heads to work. This morning he had a sadness in his voice that woke me up more than usual. I asked him what was wrong and he told me about the I-35W bridge collapse. It was on the front page of the Johnson City Press. Tears filled his eyes.



How does one say this, but to say it: we don't know yet, if any of our friends or family were on the bridge - chances are they weren't - but we are still shocked and saddened by the sudden news. We certainly hope that everyone we know and love in the Twin Cities is safe and sound, and our hearts go out to everyone whose life changed near the end of the August 1 rush hour.

It hits close to home.

Would I Lie to You About a Thing Like This?

This is from the July 15 edition of the Elizabethton Star. Big Red's Produce is just down the road from us - less than half a mile. We love stopping in to check on the produce - and the production!

By Greg Miller, Star Staff Writer

For one group of local residents who meet at Big Red's Produce on Stoney Creek, not telling the truth ranks as a badge of honor.
Every evening, as well as Sunday mornings, members of Big Red's Liar's Club get together to swap their good-natured lies.
According to the owner of the business, Carl Canter, he is "one of the biggest" liars.
"I can compete with the White House," Canter said. "I've been lying all my life."
Nighttime is a good time to create lies. "You just go to bed and sleep on it," he said.
Practicing the lie helps, Canter explained, "but it's better if it comes straight out. That way, you don't stutter."

Lying, according to Cantor, is a form of storytelling. "I'd say we're about as good as Jonesborough," he said. "The only thing is, we can make them believe it."
"We can make them mad over it," he continued. "They don't make nobody get mad, but see, we do. We tell some dillies."
Canter began the club about 18 years ago, but he said he began lying to Barbara, his wife, 42 years ago. "I told her what a good man I was," he said. "I can make her believe anything."
Men are not the only liars to take the opportunity to share a lie. "We've got quite a few women that come in and tell a big one once in awhile," Canter said.
"All of the members are guys, but they have different people that come in and talk, but they're not members," said Barbara Canter. "The ladies come in and join in, but they're not members. They come, visit, talk, cut up and tell tales like the guys do."
Carl Canter said he likes to tell a story about Howard Grindstaff, one of the club's members.
"He had some chickens go all the way from here to Arkansas down to (former President Bill) Clinton's old place," he said. "They called, and he went and got them and brought them back."
"It did happen," Canter continued. "We sold his chickens off out here last Saturday. They were bow-legged and everything, where they had squatted and run under the rocks."
Grindstaff has been a member of the liar's club for about 15 years.
The club, Grindstaff said, "is a good bunch of people."
Being a member of the club, he added, "is a lot of fun. There's no harm intended. We just shoot a lot of bull."
"You've got to shoot bull to have hamburger meat," Cantor observed.
"He's the priest here," Canter said of Grindstaff. "We call him preacher most of the time, among other things."
"I fill in for the regular chaplain," Grindstaff said. "Grant Hardin is the regular chaplain."
Norman Peters said he is a liar in training. "I've been stopping here and learning," he remarked. "I can't keep up with these guys. They just out-lie me. It's hard to lie with the best of them. They are the experts," Peters said. "We just lie when we have to, but we have to a lot, don't we, Red?"
Getting someone to believe a lie gives a person a warm and fuzzy feeling, according to Peters. "If you can tell a lie and get somebody to believe it, that's a good feeling," he said.
The best thing about the liar's club, Peters said, is you don't ever have to wonder if they're telling the truth. "If their mouth is moving, their lying, so you don't have to wonder," he explained. "This is a good group of liars, though. They don't tell dangerous lies."
Peters said he plans to continue his lying ways. "There's no need to change now," he said. "We're too old to change now."
Their fame has spread far beyond Stoney Creek. "Playboy Magazine is wanting us all to join them, but we can't do that," Canter said. "We got a big letter from them. They're wanting us to come to California and live in the Clampett house and all that, but we decided against it. We're going to make Stoney Creek famous."
Canter said anything that is said inside the store must be taken with a grain of salt. "I can't tell the truth in here," Canter said. "You can't believe nothing."
At Big Red's Liar's Club, there is no respect for the truth. "It's all about lying," Canter said. "If you tell the truth, it's a $300 fine. You might even get blackballed out."
Grindstaff summed up his feelings about being a member of the liar's club by his willingness to talk with the Elizabethton STAR. "As long as I don't have to tell the truth, I'll be all right," he said.

What a Normal Kid Does with Birthday Presents

Notice that Eli is having as much fun with the boxes and packaging as he is with the toys that came in them. An idea for marketers - boxes that come in boxes!



Thanks, Rachael, for posting this on Youtube!

Shameless Self Promotion Ahead!

The Johnson City Press helped to increase the size of my head this last week when they ran a very large story in their "Taste" section about me and some of my favorite summertime recipes.



You can read the entire article here, including the recipes.

It was a lot of fun having a reporter and photographer come out to the house, talk to me and play with my food! This is the second piece about my cooking to run in the Taste section since we moved here, and the fourth time I've been interviewed (one was politcal, the other was about Hybrid cars and the people who drive them). It's kind of fun getting the attention, and it is refreshing that they don't just focus on people like this all the time:

Yancey Blevins Kopiski Joins the Fun on Stoney Creek

This is Yancey. He is about 9 weeks old. He is the smallest of the three surviving kittens born to Miss Mittens around Easter, and is the only gray one. He was the most cuddly of the three, which is why we chose him. Selfish, I know, but I want a kitten that will curl up in my arm and purr away a rainy night. He fits the bill splendidly.

There have been adjustments, of course. Moses was not eager to see another youngster come into the house. Ralph Stanley was down right intimidated. Hazel was willing to go along with things until the first night, when Yancey tried to nurse from her. After that, she wants nothing to do with the upstart. I can't tell if she is just being antagonistic because he is an unneutered male or because he's not a dog. It would appear those two strikes against his character are enough to put Miss Hazel into quite a snit.

Meanwhile the other two cats are warming up to the little thing. Moses does not want to be jumped on, but otherwise tolerates his new roomie fairly well (for a curmudgeon). Ralph Stanley has started playing with him, and plans to teach him how to open the closet doors for himself. Ironically - perhaps - his best non-human friend is Chester. They enjoy each other's company immensely. It reminds me of this:



Look here for the entire classic cartoon.

He is an adorable little thing, even when he climbs my back when I'm at the computer (as he ow just ouch did yow!).

Gay Cartoon Characters Mourn Falwell

"Eh-oh. Sad, sad." Was all Tinkie Winkie could say.

"She was a bitch, but she was great at getting us out in front," said Spongebob Squarepants, referring to the late Rev. Jerry Falwell, who made his Ascension this last Tuesday. Squarepants and other gay cartoon characters gathered in San Francisco Thursday to discuss the impact Falwell had on their careers, and to name a marketing successor.

"Face it," said Barney, another gay cartoon icon of the past. "He put food on my plate for years after all those brats were sick to death of me and my purple skin, Honey." The Penguins from the 2006 film "Happy Feet" also expressed sadness at Falwell's passing. They had only lately hopped on the publicity bandwagon after their film was declared "homo-tolerant" by Falwell in 2006. "Well, at least we're woolly, that's all I can say," said one spokespenguin. "We're young, and we can dance, not like that lumpy prehistoric Divine over there."

Squarepants was quick to come to Barney's defense, calling the penguins "tarts in cheap suits". At that point, this reporter started to feel queer and had to step out for a little fresh air. When I returned, the penguins were mixing Cosmos for the group. They quickly settled on Michael Medved as their publicity coordinator, having agreed that James Dobson was just too mean ("like Joan Crawford on meth", according to Velma, of Scooby Doo fame), and Pat Robertson could never be taken seriously with "that cute little Keebler Elf face of his."

The group was working on details for a press conference to announce the successor when Spongebob broke down and started shooting bubbles out of his butt. "Eh-oh," said Tinkie. I couldn't agree more.

Clean Soap vs Dirty Field Tests

This video clip was made when a punk rocker in California created a lather, recently. He was pulled over for "driving while weird", and subsequently arrested for possession of a soap bottle full of what police identified as GHB, or the "Date Rape Drug".

The company that made the soap, Dr. Bronners, came to the punker's rescue and did a little research. What came out in the wash is fascinating. Turns out any soap that is TRULY soap, and not detergent, will show a false positive when tested for GHB using the cheap and non-standardized field tests used by police nationwide. And any soap that has detergent (synthetic soap) will not show a positive.

So, this clip is great for two reasons: we have a small organic company and counterculture oddball teaming up to take on the police and the cheap tests they use to arrest and possibly convict countless people, and we have cheap drug tests that can be used to tell if a soap is really a soap. We also get to learn another way we can reduce our dependence on petroleum! At least they work for something!

Just in Time for Mother's Day!

The largest flower in the world, a native of the Sumatran rain forests, the Titan Arum is a real doozy, standing at about 12 feet high and, when in full bloom, as much as 15 feet wide. It's corm weighs an average of 100 pounds during the growing season, which, in its native ground, is the monsoon season. Perhaps for some, though, the most impressive thing about the Titan Arum is the stench - that's right, the common name for it is "Corpse Flower", and if you head to St. Peter's Gustavus Adolphus College in the next few days, you will find out why.

"People have described [the flower's smell] as rotting meat flesh," said Gustavus senior Alex Burum, who helps care for Perry, which is short for Hyperion, a Greek deity.

"We've had some concerns from professors about how Nobel [Hall] will smell for a few days," said the college's greenhouse manager, Emily Hoefs.

Said associate chemistry Prof. Brian O'Brien, who received Perry as a seed from a San Francisco doctor in 1993 and promptly planted it: "Some say it has more of a feces smell."

Said Hoefs: "I've heard it can also smell like bread. Rotting fruit." There was one final smells-like: "Fried fish," O'Brien said.

You can read more about Perry the Corpse Flower here.

New kittens! Altogether Now, Everyone Say "Awwwwwwww"

These little ones are about 5 days old. They were born of Mike's kitty, Mittens, and a neighborhood Lothario (yes, Mittens will be spayed as soon as possible). In the meantime, the boys will get a chance to see the little ones grow. At weaning time, we will take one of the fellows (they all appear to be boys). We will have the opportunity to learn their personalities and pick the one we want. The rest will find good homes.

WARNING: Cute Kids Ahead!

Ben and Lucas congratulate one another on another successful Easter Egg Hunt. They got all but one egg - the missing one was found in the branches of a tree, just about eye level to a boy. Crazy Easter Bunny!

Lukey had a bunch of plastic eggs which he undertook to fill with treats such as chocolate kisses, coins, jelly beans, and small toys. What a great idea! The boys also had a lot of fun decorating real eggs the night before Easter. Ben's hands were green for a week!

Ben and Lukey meet our new neighbor, Coco. She's about 6 weeks old in the picture, and grows daily. Chester is a little too boisterous for her, but we're hoping they can get to know each other and be friends. We have lots of neighborhood dogs that enjoy each others' company, inluding Coco's housemate, Stoney, a black Lab, Trixie, a Jack Russell Terrier who refuses to believe she is small, a Newfie pup, Sugarfoot and her roomie, Angel, and the patriarch of the group, Toby, a 16-year old Dachshund. No one's yard is safe!

Young Eli (Tony's boy, and my Grand-nephew) tries out the "Fargo Fin" look. Thankfully, he discarded that notion in favor of a more traditional look (see below).

Ah, that's better.

You Know It's Spring When They Bring Out the Eggs in Peters Hollow

Every Easter for 184 years has been celebrated in these parts just a little differently than in most other places. That's right: after nearly two centuries, the annual Peters Hollow Egg Fight remains a strong family tradition here in Stoney Creek.

No, there are no spurs attached to eggs that are then made to fight in a ring while folks throw their money down on the strongest future chicken. People don't hurl rotten eggs at each other from behind barns and trees out in the north 40. Instead, contestants tap their brightly colored, hard-boiled eggs against those of their opponents to see which one will crack. It ends, sometimes hours later, when only one person remains with an uncracked egg.

Competitions are separate for kids and adults. "I know how to fight effs because my daddy taught me", said Carson Peters, aged 3. People come from all over the country and bring hundreds of eggs with them, making the event a family reunion. This year, due to the cold, the event took place at the Volunteer Fire Department building at Hwy 91 and Liberty Hollow. Usually, though, it takes place up Peters Hollow Road.

I shake my head a little at the idea of spending so much time and effort boiling and dying eggs, just to whack them together. But when I think about the strength of family that keeps a tradition going without interruption for 184 years, I can't say a bad thing about it. Our mail lady, Joanne, is a Peters. She told me earlier this year that you don't need to be a Peters to enjoy the egg fight, but we have not gone, yet. Just knowing it is right up the road from us makes me feel pretty good, even so. It seems the ties that bind these folks are a lot stronger than the shell of an egg.

And So It Goes... Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. 1922-2007

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. died yesterday. When I read the headline this morning, the quiet of my napping cat-filled house was shattered with a long, wailing "Noooooooooooooooo". Anyone who has ever read Vonnegut knows that he was no sentimentalist. When it comes to the passing of icons, frankly, neither am I. This is because the icon has already done pretty much everything they were ever going to do. Sinatra hadn't made a record in years. Katherine Hepburn was a recluse. But Vonnegut was different. He still had work to do. Work that, for me, was extremely important.

Vonnegut was a witty and vocal critic of all institutions, including the one with which we are currently burdened - the Bush Administration. We desparately need his voice to continue. But, as he would have said, "So it goes".

I started reading Vonnegut in high school. His ability to render a situation, no matter how terrible, into a few simple, unsentimental words is true genius. This is an important talent to have. For instance, as we look at the current situation and feel that it may be the beginning of the end for the America we thought we knew, Vonnegut reminds us that we've lived through such moments. Of course, that never precluded him from getting peeved and talking about it.Perhaps it was his natural existentialism that made it easy for Vonnegut to talk about our failures as a civilization and society. He once recommended that someone carve these words into a wall of the Grand Canyon:

"We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard ... and too damn cheap."

Even so, as long as we manage to hold together enough to survive, Vonnegut will live on - in his words and in his ability to inspire readers. Perhaps we will even see a sort of resurrection, as curious youngsters (and yes, they still exist) introduce themselves to his writings, and by virtue, introduce themselves to critical thought.I will close with my favorite words from Vonnegut, from "Slapstick":

I cannot distinguish between the love I have for people and the love I have for
dogs. When a child, and not watching comedians on film or listening to comedians on the radio, I used to spend a lot of time rolling around on rugs with uncritically affectionate dogs we had. And I still do a lot of that. The dogs become tired and confused and embarrassed long before I do. I could go on forever.

Well, it looks like the old fart finally got tired. Hi ho.