....Blogging about cabbages and kings since 2005.

We watched “National Treasure” last night… it was enjoyable.

I’ve given myself until May 15 to finish “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.” I’m 80 pages into it. I guess I’d better get busy. If the DHM and the Equuschick didn’t have so many interesting books I’m sure it would be easier.

and sporadic, as we can, when we can. We’re having fun.

Meanwhile, here is a source for many of my blog posts.

In a Virginia town, a woman who used a weapon to defend herself goes to jail. Her attacker tried to strangle her, then left. She locked the door and put a gun in her pocket. He kicked the door in and attacked her again. She shot him. He did not get treatment, as it appeared to be superficial. He bled to death.

The prosecutor told the judge that Taylor could have left the apartment or called police to keep the confrontation from escalating. ‘But as so often happens in this city, people arm themselves and think that solves the problem,’ she said.”

In a Massachusetts town, a pharmacist fended off a would be drug thief, using his licensed firearm. This is not the first time he’s used his gun to protect his stock. In this case nobody was injured, and the pharmacist was not charged.

Maida is licensed to have the gun, and will not face charges for the shooting, police said. ‘What do you want me to charge him with, being a victim?’ asked one cop.”

In a previous post, I shared a little vignette of our family life. I thought it was funny and showed some of what I love about my family, and apparently, so did most of you.

In this post I’m going to share a less charming vignette, and it will show why we may be a blight on the landscape of our hosts today (they have not said so, but they are well mannered and kind).

First Year Boy, desiring to make himself sought after by a boy four or five years older than himself: “I might invite your family to my birthday party. But I might not.”

First Year Boy, always inclined to share his knowledge with any audience he can find, tells our host’s young children that there is no Santa Claus. This is not kosher- but he’s young enough that he does not recall the last time we told him not to tell other people’s children this little fact of life. This is better than the time one of our children announced to some young friends that there once had been a Santa Claus, but he was dead and had been dead a very long time.

He needs some manners lessons, and he’s getting them. He’s also making some discoveries:

First Year Boy’s very good friend in our host family is a child his own age. They have known each other since they were two. They are very excited to discover how much they have in common; they both 0like this, and they both don’t like that, and isn’t that amazing!

But there are also some things they do not have in common.
First Year Boy: I can almost wink with my right eye and you can almost wink with your left eye. That’s something different about us.
Friend: Hey, that’s right!

First Year Boy: And I have short hair, but your hair is longer.
Friend: Yeah, that’s something else different about us.

First Year Boy: And I wear pants but sometimes you wear dresses.
Friend: Well, that’s because I’m a girl and you are a boy.

Immortal, invisible, God only wise,
In light inaccessible hid from our eyes,
Most blessèd, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,
Almighty, victorious, Thy great Name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,
Nor wanting, nor wasting, Thou rulest in might;
Thy justice, like mountains, high soaring above
Thy clouds, which are fountains of goodness and love.

To all, life Thou givest, to both great and small;
In all life Thou livest, the true life of all;
We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,
And wither and perish—but naught changeth Thee.

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,
Thine angels adore Thee, all veiling their sight;
But of all Thy rich graces this grace, Lord, impart
Take the veil from our faces, the vile from our heart.

All laud we would render; O help us to see
Tis only the splendor of light hideth Thee,
And so let Thy glory, almighty, impart,
Through Christ in His story, Thy Christ to the heart.

Words by Walter C. Smith

John Kerry is apparently waiting for Dan Rather to break the story that the 2004 election is over. Captian Ed reports on some new legislation that Kerry is working on-

Kerry now has to do the things he failed to do before his last run. He needs to prove that he didn’t spend 20 years in the Senate doing little except for primping himself for his eventual presidential run. If he runs again, he has to have some legislative accomplishments, or the dilettante label will come out again in force for the 2008 campaign. And after leaving millions of dollars in the bank at the end of his campaign, instead of spening it in Ohio where he could have possibly made a difference or helping some Democrats win key Senate seats, he’s suddenly the Party Man and sharing with others. The most high-profile Senate race in 2006 will be in New York, which is why Kerry has to be seen as supportive to his likely primary challenger in 2008.

Kerry has done everything but make an official announcement to show that he intends on forcing the Democrats to relive 2004, only this time he won’t have the luxury of riding on Bush-hatred to keep his polling numbers up. The truth is that Kerry is a dreadful candidate — no record to speak of, a pretentious speaker, with clumsy political skills that would have killed his career anywhere else but in Massachusetts. Even the Democrats know this. As long as his money holds out and the e-mail list remains fresh, they’ll give him some respect as a party leader. Anyone who thinks they’ll trust him with another national campaign has spent too much time breathing the exhaust fumes of Kerry’s private jet.

Go figure.

Remember when he said he wasn’t going to tell Terri’s family where she was buried, and then the court ruled that he had to?

They still don’t know.

Perhaps the fine print of the ruling said something about ‘when that bad place freezes over…”

See Michelle Malkin where you can read about the teacher who grabbed a student’s cellphone, disconnecting his telephone call.

It was lunchtime and the boy was talking to his mother.
His mother is stationed in Iraq.

We drove through Maryland recently, quite recently, and when I saw this article this morning I thought it explained a lot:

A gasoline price war erupted in St. Mary’s County last week after one station slashed its price for regular to $1.999 a gallon and spurred three others to follow suit, giving drivers some hope of relief at the pump.

But the price dip proved fleeting.

Maryland regulators quickly stepped in and told the stations that their prices were too low. They needed to go up by 5 cents.

[ ]
The sudden fluctuation in the Lexington Park area was the result of a little-noticed Maryland law that took effect in 2001. The General Assembly mandated that stations cannot charge less than what they pay for gas — unless they’re lowering prices to compete with a nearby station.

We awoke at 5 a.m. yesterday morning, loaded the van, and drove away by 6. a.m. I’d picked up several new tapes to listen to, some from a library book sale. We put in a tape that purported to be a collection of turn of the century popular music- that century being 1899-1902.

For some reason, somebody thought that songs like ‘The Banks of the Wabash’ would sound better in an operatic rendition. Pipsqueak was objecting by the third note.
The Headgirl said politicly, “We don’t really expected to hear folk and 19th century tunes sung as opera.”

“No,” came the First Year Boy’s clear tones from the back of the van. “It’s inappwopwiate.”

Defeated, the DHM selected another tape.

As she switched tapes, Equuschick announced her satisfaction with the decision, “Ejected and rejected,” she said.

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The DHM suggested Bernsteins’ They Come to America.

“No,” said the Head Girl, “Too brash for 6 a.m.”

Pipsqueak said that’s just what she wanted.

“Well, I don’t mind” said the Head Girl agreeably, “I have my headphones and personal C.D. player. “

“Nnoooooo,” wailed the DHM, “I don’t like individual, private headphones. They are isolating and interfere with developing common bonds between family members.”

“I know you don’t like individual headphones,” said the HG.

“Communist,” said Equuschick.
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