Pi, Pi, Everywhere a Pi

Life’s been busy. In fact so busy, I haven’t done an anniversary post in three years. I’ll get y’all caught up in a different post, but for now, cheers to the little blog and all the friends made along the way.

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A little more than seventeen years ago, I ventured out to the internetz and discovered an entire world of voices just as disgruntled as mine.  I thought if they can do it, so can I.  And one day I just started.

I didn’t pick Pi Day / Albert Einstein’s birthday on purpose.  It was just the day I loosed my inner pyromaniac.  Some days are bright, happy blazes, and others were full-blown five alarmers.  Regardless, it’s been a slow burn for a long time.

The years have expanded the web’s depth and reach, despite govenment’s meddling in what we can and cannot see. 

In the last several year’s anniversary posts, I’ve hinted at my mother’s decline in health. She is now in a memory care facility. I understand why dementia is called “The Long Goodbye.”  Every time I see her, she is changed.  She is greatly diminished, slowly evaporating before my eyes.

These are difficult days. The blog has suffered, along with other areas of my life.  But I’m still active on the web in discussions I care about and contributing to other sites.  I know the time will come when I sadly have too much time because my responsibilities to others have ended.  Hopefully, we will still have enough free speech left that I can speak my mind here.

If you’re new to this dark little asteroid, you can check out the one post that started it all, plus the rest of the previous anniversary posts – The First, Year One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, and Fourteen.

Many, many friends have been made and lost along the way. So many prayers said. So much support offered. Special thanks go out to Fausta for her continued friendship, and as always to The Anchoress, Elizabeth Scalia, my blog-mother. It’s all her fault. She continues to amaze and inspire me.

This never-ending media tantrum, which brought out the worst in all of us has gotten even more rotten.  Let us pray as one for America’s future, protection from disease, domestic safety and sovereignty.

Thorin Oakenshield, the magical Boston Terrier, is now five years old. He rules our roost and charms everyone who crosses his path. Except certain men he doesn’t like the looks of. They must be Orcs in disguise.

Davy Jones, RIP

The inner teenage girls of 50ish women worldwide are howling in disbelieving, inconsolable grief over today’s news: Davy Jones, Dead at 66 of a Heart Attack.

“God Talks Like Us”

Today would have been Lewis Grizzard’s 65th birthday. Read my tribute over at PeachPundit.

We miss you Lewis, more than you could ever imagine.

Crazy Eyes, What to Pack and What Does Obama Do When Faced With The Downgrade

Michelle Malkin has an excellent piece on the media’s treatment of conservatives, especially when it comes to which photos are published with their hit pieces articles.

“Crazy Eyes” actually was a nickname of mine, way back in college, when I was young, carefree and well, popular with the boys. It was bestowed by a stoner Grad Assistant, who would always show up to Redcoat rehearsals in dark sunglasses and that silly smirk everyone in my generation understands. He’d follow me around until Teske would start yelling from the tower. Secretly I was always flattered, in that awkward collegiate way that you feel when some drunk falls on you on Clayton Street, proclaims that you are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, then throws up on your shoes. Ahhh, Athens. Contact lenses the color of swimming pools helped. Alas, Lasik has restored my vision, and the eyes are icy blue now, not a shade that would have felt right at home on Miami Vice (the real one, stupid). I miss those comments.

This weekend I will be attending the RedState gathering in Charleston, SC. Where something magical may happen. What does one wear, exactly, to such a momentous event?

I wish Fred Thompson would be there. Fred gets the prize for best quote on Obama’s devotion to righting the ship of America on his watch:

The S & P downgrades our debt, and now Obama’s out golfing again.

That’s our president – always working on getting lower scores.

Now admit, just for a second you thought, “Where would we be if Fred was in the Oval Office?” Admit it.

Yeah, anything’s better than this mess.

Athens Food Adventure, Part the Third and the End of Our Day

So where were we? Friday morning after breakfast, I believe.

Lunch was at Marti’s at Midday. We shared Martha’s Salad Plate which is a huge basket of salad with pimento cheese, chicken salad, fruit and the most marvelous toasted pita wedges. After we were sufficiently stuffed, there was enough left over for another meal!

Afterwards, we waddled over to Chick Music and caught up with some old friends.

Luckily, our dinner reservation at 5 & 10 was later in the evening. This time we ordered different dishes (except the Hubster liked the little lyonnaise salad so much on the last trip he just had to have it again). For appetizers, I had clam and chorizo soup and he had his repeat salad. Then my entree was grilled redfish with quinoa and green beans. He ordered the pork tenderloin with ribs over a grit cake with collards. Out of the two nights and four entrees, this was the most exquisite. Only a true Southerner can wax poetic over ribs. And wax he did. Galactic perfection.

For dessert, we shared a wonderful ginger creme brulee.

On the way back to the hotel, we swung by The Melting Point, to see if we could roust out our friend Tim P. before his band played. We caught him and his wife just as they were walking in the door. While we stayed through their first set, Hubster ran into even more old friends. I mean, really, is there anybody he doesn’t know?

Finally, we turned in. For breakfast this morning, we tried the Big City Bread Cafe. Now I want to move to Athens and eat breakfast there everyday.

This was one of those trips where you never want to go home. Leaving this magical weekend means going back to the grind which, to be honest, been taking a toll on both of us.

On our way home, I kept thinking of Brigadoon. Fiona frantically tells Tommy, “It’s the end of our day!” Tommy doesn’t understand until Fiona, and all of Brigadoon, fade into the evening mist.

I may have been born in Atlanta, but Athens will always be my heart and soul.

Birthday Festivities Continue Apace

Our Wee Highlander, who we now refer to as College Boy Who Needs a Shave, is home for his birthday.

Thanks to the economy, et al., he’s not getting the Mardi Gras parade he’s come to expect as in years past, but just a card and some cash. And his usual favorite chocolate cake.

Our College Girl, who we now refer to as Recent Graduate Without a Gig, should heed to the following two articles and realize that dear ol’ Mom is not as nutzo as she thinks when stressing the fact that yes, her current employment situation is less than ideal, and please keep the icky job you have while you look for another, better, job: (wow… that was a really bad sentence! Sorry Mrs. Wier!)

Long term unemployed now considered “the New Irish”

No unemployed need apply (I wonder if Moe would come and deliver this lecture over my kitchen table. I’ll even cook him dinner. And pie.)

Or, as our friend who graduated this week from US Army OCS at Ft. Benning said, “Embrace the suck.”

Things will get better the next few years, especially if we can get AmericaDestroyer-In-Chief out of office. Otherwise, well… try not to think about how bad it will get.

December 8

Most everyone remembers today as the anniversary of John Lennon’s death, but I remember it for a different reason.

Light to No Blogging…

The next couple of days will bring little to no blogging here at the praxuem as we have had two deaths in our extended family/beloved friends over the Thanksgiving break.

Keep us in your prayers.

End of an Era

Last night, the Braves lost to the Giants and ended their post-season. It was the end of the Bobby Cox era. For Chipper Jones, Bobby is the only coach he’s ever played under. In the locker room last night, there wasn’t a dry eye.

Words cannot begin to express what he has done not only for the Braves, Atlanta, Georgia, the Southeast, but for the game in general. Don’t forget the hundreds of players he’s influenced and the coaches whose careers he nurtured. During last night’s broadcast, I believe I heard that nine of the current MLB head coaches served under Bobby at some point of their career. He’s been in the game since he for 51 years, since he was 18 years old.

Baseball, more so than any other modern sport except maybe golf, celebrates character. Back in the summer, The Anchoress (a big baseball fan) discussed this character building when she wrote on the James Joyce/Armando Galarraga “moment”,

The home-plate encounter between Galarraga and Joyce was one of those transcendent moments which happen more often in baseball than in any other sport, because baseball is much more than a game.

Baseball is the teacher of lessons in courage, perseverance and grace. It pits one man, batter or pitcher, against an entire team and says “show us your heart.” Then, as Bart Giamatti wrote, “it breaks your heart,” because it is designed to do so.

But baseball then mends the heart it has broken, and in the most magnificent ways, in ways that uplift players and fans, alike.

Because baseball has no replay, the “bad calls” are part of the game, and because they are, so is the paradoxical transcendent lightness that comes from a heavy moment being shrugged off and allowed to pass.

Watching the game with your kids, you can point to a player who has been robbed of a hit, or a homerun, or an out, or a stolen base, or a perfect game, and you can say to them, “that was tough. Life is not fair, but see how this player is handling it. He’s not letting it take him down or own him; he is going forward with the rest of the game, because he knows that this is just one moment. He’s not getting stuck in it, because he knows that maybe another time, another game, a bad call will actually go his way. Things even out, in the end.”

Such moments are good for baseball, and it is good for the nation. Humility in error (or in the face of unfairness) and manly good-will are things we no longer see in a world full of puffed-up egos. They are examples we need to see lived out before our eyes, more often.

Like Hank Aaron, Bobby Cox is woven into the fabric of the Braves and Atlanta, never to be forgotten. Godspeed Skipper – here’s to hoping you go after retirement like you went after umpires, in record-breaking fashion.

Friday Fun, or, Why Do Boys Laugh at “Gas Jokes?”

Boys will be boys. Whatever.

I was cruising over at the Pioneer Woman to see if I’d won the pretty, pretty prize and this article on digestive adventures under the Home Schooling tab caught my eye.

It was the usual funny stuff about boys channeling Sir Fartsalot and such, even more so when digestive processing is discussed in a scientific manner, and then when I got to the end, I nearly fell out of my chair. Get Wakko out of my head!

The back of the book closes with a glossary of helpful definitions. Especially that first one.

I think I’ll END on that note.

That first definition triggered a flash-back to me driving the kids about, the Animaniacs tape playing and the hilarious giggles and raspberries from the back seat at the end of this song.

Gets me every time.

Tartan Distraction

From the same Anchoress post where I nicked today’s Quote o’ the Day, was a seed of a thought that developed into a full-blown pining for the fjords moment.

While the Pope is visiting the UK, he is being presented with his very own tartan. “St. Ninian.” It’s beautiful. A little like Buchanan Hunting, but with more blue and it certainly wouldn’t clash so badly with my hair. (Hint, hint) Which then, of course, lead me here and then to this, and before you know it, I’m off to the races.

Everybody loves a man who wears a skirt.

If you’re in Atlanta, the Stone Mountain Highland Games are October 15-17.

As for me, I think I’ll watch Brigadoon when I get home.

Aye, sunshine can peep through a wee hole.

Awww, That’s Sweet

Bobby Cox and his plane, photo by ajc.com

Delta Air Lines and numerous Braves fans gave Bobby Cox a surprise sent-off for his last road trip as Braves manager, at least during the regular season. Delta even put his number on the 737.

Click here to see the rest of the pictures.

That dugout won’t look the same without him.

Ree and Scarlett, Take 245

Ree had a party of school chums out at the ranch this weekend. One thing they did was reenact a scene from Gone with the Wind, complete with ringlet hairpieces and fake mustaches. Check out her post (that’s ok, I’ll wait).

Now here is the real scene (sorry, it won’t embed). That’s ok, I’ll wait.

Now all true Southern girls (and then some) know the entire GWTW script by hearts. And which dress Scarlett wore where. How do you think you would do?

(And boys, it’s ok to play from the women’s tees today.)

Best Wishes to Kennedy and Martin

Today Stacy McCain becomes Father of the Bride. Kennedy McCain becomes Mrs. Martin Nestares this morning!

As the blogosphere lifts its glasses, I’d like to offer a toast.

Best wishes to the newlyweds – may you always have love and laughter, friends around your table and babies on your knees. Material things will come and go, but you will always have each other.


American Digest, All American Blogger, Andrea Shea King, Atlas Shrugs, Crystal Clear Conservative, Hot Air, Erick Erickson, Fausta, Katie Favazza, Lakeshore Laments, Little Miss Attila, Midnight Blue, Newly Conservative Lesbian, No Pasaran, No Runny Eggs, Not One Red Cent, Outside the Beltway, Pam Meister, Ralph Benko, RFC Radio, Scrappleface, Stix Blog, Smart Girl Politics, The American Mind, The Other McCain, The Sundries Shack, Vodkapundit, Ace of Spades, Teflon Don, American Digest, American Power, Amused Cynic, The Anchoress, Augean Stables, TOTUS, Betsy’s Page, Big Girl Pants, Big Hollywood, Birdbrain, BlackFive, blonde sagacity, Breath of the Beast, Church of the Painful Truth, Classical Values, Common Folk Using Common Sense, Daley Gator, Diana West, Doug Ross, Flopping Aces, Gates of Vienna, Gateway Pundit, Georgia Sports Blog, Get the Picture, GM Roper, GrEaT sAtAn’S gIrLfRiEnD, Grouchy Old Cripple, House of Erathosthenes, Instapundit, J’s Café Nette, Jaded Haven, Jeremayakovka, Jihad Watch, Jim Treacher, Jon Swift, Laurie Kendrick, Let Freedom Ring, Liberty & Culture, Maggie’s Notebook, Mamacita, Michelle Malkin, Mr Eugenides, My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy, Neo-Neocon, Not Ready for My Burqua, Okie on the Lam, One Cosmos, OPFOR, Patterico, Peach Pundit, protein wisdom, Publius Pundit, Pundit and Pundette, reclaim conservatism, RedState, ReliaPundit, Riehl World View, Right Truth, Right Wing Sparkle, Second Draft, Sippican Cottage, small dead animals, Solomonia, Texas Fred, The Muslim Question, The Real Barack Obama, The Return of Scipio, The Rhetorican, Tigerhawk, Troglopundit, Villainous Company, Webutante, Will Collier, Yid with Lid, Political Friends, Camp of the Saints, Frugal Cafe Zone, Atlanta Politics Online, HotMES, Insert Clever S.Logan Here, The Camp of the Saints, Another Black Conservative, Paco Enterprises, American Glob, DaTechguy, Verum Serum, Caught Him With a Corndog, Storm’n Norman, Barbara Espinosa, Babalu, Adrienne’s Corner, And So it Goes in Shreveport, Backyard Conservative, Bread upon the Waters, Carol’s Closet, Coffee Milk Conservative, Fuzzy Logic, Nice Deb, No Sheeples Here, Politicaljunkie Mom, Ruby Slippers, Shout First, Ask Questions Later, Milton R. Wolf MD, Fire the 219, POWIP, Chocolate For Your Brain, Retriever, Liberty Pundits, Mind Numbed Robot, Bride of Rove

What do you get when you push the loose fuse back into the mortar?

A lovely explosion, about 15 feet off the ground. About 25 feet too close for comfort. But definitely a rousing ending to a night of Independence Day Pyromaniaism. While Obi’s street was littered with the carcasses of shiny, sparkly things that burnt hot and fast and went bang, we bow in abject humility to the remains left behind by The Pioneer Woman and her bunch of fire-breathers. We are not worthy. You are the Pan.

New Arrivals:
– Did you know the Federalist Society started a blog? Well, they did and here it is.
– Andrew Breitbart is at it again. Big Peace was born on the 4th of July!
TenBuckFriday. More later.
Tropical storm brewing off the coast of Louisiana. What could go wrong?

“Regime uncertainly.” A real leader can tell when leader wannabee is faking it. And The Won is faking it.

The flag is back. Take that California.
The man who fell from the stars. And my, how low he’s fallen.
– Don’t care much for rap, but I love this

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