White Privilege

White privilege is great but it can get a little rusty, so I pulled the chairs off of the porch, gave 'em a quick sanding, and resprayed.

Word to the wise. Don't be fooled by cheaper sprays, they don't cover as much and the result's not as good. Use Rustoleum High Performance enamel, or something like it. Only costs a buck or two more and worth every penny.

Blue Stonewall Jackson wasn't interested in checking his privilege. No, he was all about defending it from squirrels, birds and potential protesters. He likes his privilege and wants to keep it. I often remind him that he's black and white but he foolishly ignores this, being a dog.

After a couple of hours the chairs of privilege were ready to go back on the porch, a job well done. Next step? Paint the deck, and that's tomorrow's project. For now, it's time to grill, and where's my Julep?!?

General Lee forever,

LSP

Where Is That Great Leviathan?

The Compound's training schedule isn't complex, no, far from it. In between group readings from Maritain, Gilson, Aquinas, Mascall, Berdyaev, the awesome Ratzinger, Farrer and so many more, we go fishing.

X in search of, sort of thing, and that's what we did today, headed out to Lake Whitney dam and tried our luck against the ferocious prehistoric ambush predators, Gar. Well it wasn't easy. Sure there were plenty of fish but they were shell shocked by the current.

You see, thanks to climate change it's been raining, turning Texas into a cross between an Amazonian rain forest and a floodplain. We caught the floodplain today and that meant no catching, the fish were all rolling on the current and not biting.

Still, good to get out in the sun by the water and enjoy the mighty Brazos. It was better once, before the dam and the lake, but that's a different story. 

In the meanwhile, Blue Nugget looks on. Hope, all two of you readers, springs eternal.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Just Strolling

There was a stillness in the air as the sun rose above this small redoubt on the Texan Front. That's because everyone was sensibly in bed before braving the Thanksgiving Day Supermarket Maelstrom. I gazed at the frost, had a cup of hot tea, said Morning Prayer and took Blue Eschaton for a walk.

We went by a small but patriotic compound which seems to be in a constant state of yard sale. You know the thing, broken records, a bent bicycle wheel, soggy clothes in a wet cardboard box, a few old rusty spoons, a doorless fridge, whatever. A bit like the Tramp Market under the London's Westway in the early 1990s.

"Must get this crew into church," I thought to myself as I passed Jose's new house. Jose's bought some wooden fencing to mark the boundary between his compound and the yard sale scrappers' but he hasn't put it up yet.

The Pick 'n Steal was empty, apart from the Owl idol, and I poured some coffee into a Yeti 20 Ounce Tumbler, guaranteed to keep your drink hot or cold, no matter what kind of beating you give it. I'm inclined to doubt Yeti's marketing but haven't put it to the test, stay tuned.

Coffee poured into the purportedly indestructible Yeti, I strolled across the way to the Disciples Christian Church, at least I think that's what it is but it's hard to remember. They're a small crew but friendly, good luck to 'em.

We stopped up behind the temple and Blue got to nose about while I took a few sips of Yeti insulated coffee. Yes, thanks to Yeti's special system the coffee was still hot even though the Tumbler hadn't taken a beating, well done. 

I looked around while Blue Appalling did unmentionable things and took in the quiet Texan street scene. This part's well put together and a few young families make the effort to make it nice, in pleasant contrast to the crackheads, fools and wastrels that live down the block.

We moved on, patrolling beneath the locust trees, keeping an eye out for malfeasant skulduggery from the ne'er-do-well rent shacks on the left. But they were fast asleep and Blue Attack missed his chance at glory.

And there it was, the Compound, flags waving, chairs gleaming and all was well. The day moved on from there, much of it on the porch, but that's a different story. 

So there it is, another morning's worth of country life in Texas.

Quas Primas,

LSP