A pal's in Paris, France, running some kind of gig or "show" for Chanel. That means, as I understand it, being driven around in a limo to all these Parisienne places. Hey, rock on, and moar power to you but the question is, will you meet Coco?
Possibly. Look out for pearls, lots of them, and don't even consider uttering no for an answer. In the meanwhile we continue stalwart, indomitable, here in our Texan Compound. And that's no small thing.
What can we say? Excelsior!
Buy the dip,
LSP
If you'd said, twenty years ago or so, "LSP, you'll be living in a small asset-stripped town in North Central Texas," I'd have laughed. But the joke would've been on me, just think of the benefits.
Clean air, friendliness, people wave to you on the back roads; a sense, even now, of community. And guess what, most are Christian, they worship God as opposed to Moloch. OK, I'd like to see a few mass conversions from the Methodees, but you get the point.
All this to say nothing of the freedom to walk the fields and brush, gun in hand, under the free sky of Texas. Even better when you can ride it, which I haven't done in a few years because of a mad Arab and a busted hip. But still, it's there.
And guess what. No one, hardly, feels the need to wear weird masks and go full panic, follow the, ahem, science, obey your rulers autism, unlike in the cities. Why? Because no one's actually dying any more than they usually do. There's a degree of common sense running around in the country and people sense a lying, powerplay Democrat snake. They say no to it. Will they crush its heel?
Possibly, and the Left hates this and fears the country. Quite right too, how will their cities feed themselves if the hateful two gender extremists stop hauling food? Just a thought.
Your Old Pal,
LSP
Busted HVAC. Good thing Craig turned up before Morning Prayer to sort it out. And there we were, looking at the malfeasant unit. "Cuts off when the cover goes on. Why? Faulty board, pressure?" I didn't know but stood back while HVAC friend took a call from Waco.
"I need duct for... and some foots... and..." he turned to me me, call ended, "Where are we living, Babylon?" Ain't that the truth, and we discussed the current insanity of the way we live now. Then it was time to head to Itasca.
Itasca's an interesting little town, mainly because of its Amish(?) deli and Karen's Authentic Mexican Food. I like both but prefer Karen's, where you can get an awesome homemade bean brisket burrito. That in hand, off to the compound to meet a hauler. His job? Take out a '50's Chevy Panel van and an '82 'vette, which is exactly what he did.
It felt good, I tell you, being under the big sky and open air of Texas as opposed to some ersatz, strip mall facsimile. Not that I pour scorn any which way. Go on, knock yourself out at Red Lobster, Texas Roadhouse, Taco Bell, subWay, Panda Express or whatever, or enjoy Karen's. Your call. No rule.
In other news, an old pal's setting up some kind of pop concert at Chanel's HQ in Paris. In homage to Coco, or just for bucks? Maybe both. Whatever, if you want to get on the VIP list send an email, we can only say no, or YES.
Whatev. I'm not joining the Parisian party because I can't fly. No DevilVax you see.
Truly,
LSP
God bless,
"Cooking with LSP!" you exclaim ferociously from your bay window at Boodles, "That old trick?!?" But not so fast, it can be done, here's how.
Look defiantly at Thanksgiving leftovers and instead of problem see solution. In this case a pie, a turkey and mushroom pie and because you want to save on hassle, made in one 10" skillet. That's right, a one skillet pie.
First up, melt some butter and olive oil in heavy metal, put on Tree Top Flyer Best Version Ever, add half a chopped onion, a couple of cloves of chopped garlic, 2 cups of chopped mushrooms, salt and pepper to taste, a tsp of thyme and fry till the onions are translucent, around 5 minutes. Yes indeed, nice and easy.
Behold the vegetables in their fried glory and sort out the jukebox, perhaps Golden Brown is appropriate, then continue. Add 3 tbs of flour to the mix, coat the veg, it'll stiffen, then slowly add 2 cups of homemade chicken broth, stirring. It's not hard, just pour it in and watch the gravy thicken. Result.
Then add up to a cup of milk and stir it into the mix until you get the consistency you want, not too watery, not too thick. Apply chopped up turkey. We got ours from a rancher whose wife had gone to Vegas to run PRA barrel competitions, "Here boys, you take this," and so we did.
Rodeo aside, simmer or rest your pie mix for a while, it takes time for those flavors to become as one delicious one. And then? Cover the beast with pastry and put it in a 400* preheated oven until the crust is golden, around 20 minutes. But no rule, your call.
Well done, bask in the glory of it all and fall upon your scoff.
Like a Warrior,
LSP
PS. Careful on the salt... word to the wise.
So what's better. This^^^, or this.
Thanks, DM, you clearly rock, and thanks for the tip. But what's best, Mexico or Egypt? As always, you, the reader, be the judge.
Shoot on,
LSP
PS. Have you noticed Hugh Cornwell's increasing similarity to a senior officer in the British Army. Perhaps it's reincarnation.
Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.
The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.
Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.
Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God.
So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.
Parentally,
LSP
Never a frown with golden brown. I'd advise caution and so would the monkey, he's a ferocious beast. Here's Toto.
One Love,
LSP
Here at the Compound we're keeping it simple with roast duck, partly because there weren't any turkeys and the Specialist thought duck would be tasty. But that's for later. In the meanwhile, here's a prayer.
O MOST merciful Father, who hast blessed the labours of the husbandman in the returns of the fruits of the earth; We give thee humble and hearty thanks for this thy bounty; beseeching thee to continue thy loving-kindness to us, that our land may still yield her increase, to thy glory and our comfort; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Bless you all; have a great day with family and friends.
Your Old Friend,
LSP
It's Regency London, the Westminster Pit, some five years after the Corsican upstart met his nemesis at Waterloo. Candlelit faces gleam with anticipation, and it's on, "Gennellmen, place your bets!"
A monkey emerges from shadow into the ring, club high, fangs barred, simian snarling. Yes, this is Jacco and he's not alone, a dog growls, ferocious, it is Puss, the favourite. Fight.
A flash of gold in the wings, of real money, "Wager a guinea on the monkey, eh? Devil take the hindmost." Hat, stock, cane and guinea purse agree, "Hindmost? Twice up and double on the ape, damme." And the monkey wins against the odds. Triumph. A short clip back to St. James, White's and...
It's North Central Texas, Anno Domini 2021, with a hot sun blazing from a blue sky. "How much you want for this pipe?" Silence is golden, "You tell me," and business concluded. Not as racy perhaps as the Pit, but no less good for all that.
If you look hard enough, there's a frontier, country, equivalency between the two.
Time travel's weird like that.
LSP
