Going nowhere, but moving fast

Please don't think us hopelessly bourgeois but we went to Cracker Barrel for Sunday lunch.
I am a trifle enamored -- momentarily at least -- of their lemon pepper grilled rainbow trout. Side of baked sweet potato, cucumber/grape tomato/onion salad, and cole slaw.
It's a tasty and satisfying low-carb feast if you ignore the biscuits. It could mean the end of all kitchens and all cooking.
At any rate we -- that being me, TG, Audrey, Erica, and Dagny -- had to wait a short while for a table.
So that left time for shopping.
There is a whole equine display -- books, clothes, toys, knick-knacks, accessories -- that's impressive, especially if you or someone on your gift-giving list (100 days until Christmas) is a member of the horsey set.
And if one of them happens to be a little tyke, may I suggest this exceptionally life-like (and energetic) animated singing horse.
If only we'd thought to bring sugar cubes, or an apple in our pocket.
Audrey's the one working hard to keep the runaway equine unit on the crate. And doing most of the cackling.
I'm the one taking the video, which gets pretty good at about 0:45.
Yee haw.
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Happy Monday
Fly the cookie skies

So just when I think my son's job is all stress and danger, all detailed preparations for imminent takeoff on the next exotic adventure in military aviation, I get this text, accompanied by a picture of a large box of frozen cookie dough:
Baking cookies for the crew tonight.
He was in Knoxville this past Monday, getting ready to embark on a week-long series of nighttime in-air refueling missions on the West Coast.
I inquired:
Baking cookies at home, at the base, or on the plane?
And he answered:
On the plane.
So then (naturally) I asked:
Are you by any chance pulling my leg?
To which my boy responded:
No I'm serious. Some of the jets have ovens and we love it when we get one. It's a great morale booster.
I imagine so.
I'm not sure what happened to the cookie-baking plan on the flight to San Francisco (by way of Portland, dragging receivers part of the way) that night, but yesterday my boom operator cookie baking son texted me a series of photos.
The first was the one above, of globs of raw cookie dough arranged carefully on foil-lined racks.
Then there was this:
And he texted:
The whole jet smelled like cookies.
Nothing half-baked about that.
Causing me to consider that I may even be able to overcome my fear of flying if it involved chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Prepared and served by my son.
Perhaps with a side of valium.
Next, I got this:
Inspiring copious drooling on my part, and I'll wager on yours too.
Air Emeril's final offering was this action photo:
Which depicts a McDonnell Douglas KC-10 Extender approaching the rear of Airman Andrew's Boeing KC-135 Stratotanker in the gathering darkness.
Which eager aircraft required refueling, but which I imagined was also following a certain enticing aroma wafting through the night sky.
That of still-warm chocolate chip cookies.
Hey you! Have a cookie and have a great weekend.
And keep looking up.
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Happy Friday ~ God Bless America
Upon death's purple altar now


Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings.
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield,
They tame but one another still.
Early or late,
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death's purple altar now,
See where the victor-victim bleeds.
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb;
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.
