A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.
If she were still alive, my mother would be thrilled. She was a Red Sox fan, as was her mother. Both were long-suffering; I doubt ever experience a World Series win. I do not understand their interest, because we never discussed baseball. Perhaps, listening to the games on the radio killed time.
I remember falling asleep to radio broadcasts as a young child. My father took me to Fenway Park once or twice. I lost interest in baseball, once I became active in hockey, which proved the plodding nature of former. One sport has penalties, the other “errors”.There’s no such thing as a “walk” in hockey or anything similar, which tells you something...
What I shared with my mother was devotion to a Boston team that lost more than they won. This could be labeled loyalty or stupidity. My mother was not stupid...
Sometimes failure isn’t an opportunity in disguise, it’s just you.
I cannot recall ever eating roast goose, until I moved to Germany. And, the first time occurred after several years. I have come to enjoy this seasonal speciality, which is served in the late fall and winter.
I can recall reading about the English eating goose at Christmas and am certain that one could find this bird somewhere in the United States. My family had turkey or roast beef at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
The time has come, once again, to enjoy roast goose a time or two. One does not cook this at home, because a goose messes up an oven something fierce. Even though we have a self-cleaning oven, I would not submit the poor thing to roasting a goose. The great amount of fat that seeps from a roasting goose is collected to become a spread for bread, something I have never tried. Since we do not cook goose, there is no fat to save.
Writing this makes me long for and look forward to my first of several goose dinners at a restaurant…
The mark of an educated mind is being able to entertain a thought without accepting it. Aristotle
Before I start, let me reiterate that I am not a communist!
Something is wrong with the world in which we live. Well, at least in parts of the United States. If you do not believe me, check out or read about Las Vegas.
I just read an article in The New Yorker about clubs in Las Vegas. It seems that hotels are earning more from clubs than from gambling. Perhaps, that’s because high rollers now dump their money in Macau. Anyways, back to the club phenomena and my point about what’s wrong with the world.
A few points found in the article prove my conclusion. First, people pay five to one hundred thousand dollars for a table near the DJ. Second, the DJ can earn one hundred and fifty thousand dollars--one allegedly earning 300 thousand--for a “performance”. (I put that in quotation marks, because I do not consider playing music to be performance, even if the guy spend his valuable time mixing canned sounds with a computer program.) And, third, someone paid one hundred thousand dollars for a bottle of Champagne. Okay, the bottle was large, but still... According to the article, customers can spend half a million dollars on drinks in a night! No club would like to have--or would even accept--me as a customer. No, worry. I am not a club person...
Feeling unique is no indication of uniqueness.