Well, I don’t.

But Roberta X. does, and she’s moved her log of her adventures to a new blog!

I’ve really enjoyed her stories of the Hidden Frontier, and look forward to a lot more entries.

Doc Russia over at Bloodletting is returning to civilization.

He’s been doing his residency in Detroit, and has suffered greatly for his time there.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been to rural Michigan, and it’s beautiful. The people outside of the cities in Michigan are 100% the people I want to hang out with. But you get within the city limits of anything over 20,000 people, and you’re in a 3rd world hole.

He just reported that he’s made it back to Dallas.

Welcome back to the real world, Doc. I miss Texas too.

On this date in 1939, Hitler had an attack on a German radio station on the Polish border faked, and started the shooting part of World War II in Europe. He’d been winning the war without shooting for a couple of years, but those tactics had stopped working when Chamberlain started to grow a spine. So he decided to find out if all those shiny new guns, planes, and tanks were worth all of the slave labor.

By time all was said and done, between 50 and 100 million people, both civilian and military, around the world would be dead. The world found out what happens when you mate unspeakable evil with science and technology.

World War II is the subject of an almost endless series of movies, documentaries, books, and television shows. Even as the World War II generation slowly dwindles away, we are fascinated by it. Maybe because it was the most critical time in the last century. The politics, technology, morals, and almost everything else that we deal with today has roots in the Second World War.

For those of you who listen to podcasts, Dan Carlin is doing a series called “Ghosts of the Ostfront“, which details the fighting on the Russian Front. I recommend it.

For the most part, I’ve not monitored the situation of Senator Edward Kennedy’s public mourning. Basically, it’s none of my business. His family needs to mourn. Whether or not the body politic gets to mourn is irrelevant.

But I watched the funeral Mass for him this weekend. A couple of thoughts:

How many people of the neighborhood around the church will have Yo Yo Ma play at their funeral? They made a big deal out of how Senator Kennedy had chosen that church and it was in the middle of a depressed neighborhood. Let’s see some of those people come back next week and really honor a spirit of charity by worshiping with the poor.

Did you notice that Secretary Clinton was seated next to President Bush? While the church was packed, those two managed to get about 3 feet between them. And while they didn’t show it, I’m pretty sure Hillary didn’t give George a hug during the sign of the peace. And did you notice that the Clintons sat to the left of the Bushes? Coincidence? I think not.

I’m actually impressed by Hillary. It must have taken a supreme force of will not to scream out loud when her soul started burning as she crossed the chapel’s threshold. And to continue to endure it during the service took a superhuman effort.

I know Kennedy wrote his own intercessions for the Mass, but did politics really have to be brought into it? It was a funeral, not a stump speech.

And of course, afterward the talking heads got started. Apparently some Democrats want to name the Senate health care bill after Kennedy. Nothing like propping the corpse up in the corner and using it to get what you want. Of course, Johnson used JFK’s death to get a lot of unpopular bills through Congress. Using the dead to get what you want is a well-used Democratic tradition.

So anyway, I hope he rests in peace. Like all of us he has a lot to answer to when he meets the Almighty. I just hope he has the smarts to own up to it in the afterlife, because he certainly didn’t do it in this one.

Well, Irish Woman had a meeting tonight, so it was me and the kids.

I had pulled some chicken out of the fridge, but it was the wrong kind for what I had in mind. Instead of boneless, skinless breasts to make stir-fry, I had a bag of legs.

So, I dropped back and punted:

Cut up a large onion and one fresh Cirrano pepper, deseeded.

Saute in olive oil in a large wok with garlic and black pepper.

While that’s cooking, soak the chicken legs in soy sauce and balsamic vinegar.

Once the onions are clear, put the chicken legs in the wok. Cook until they are brown on all sides.

Add 1 cup of low-sodium beef broth, cover, and bring to a boil.

Once it boils, reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring twice.

After 10 minutes, place two bunches of broccoli florets, separated into eatable sections, on top of the chicken and recover. Simmer for an additional 5 minutes.

After 5 minutes, the broccoli will be bright green and tender. Shut off the heat and stir to coat the broccoli with the broth. Let sit for an additional 5 minutes.

Serve over pasta.

Yummee.

It was quite good for something I just whipped up, if I must say so myself. The Cerrano pepper added a bit of flavor, but not too much heat. If you want to crank up the spice, use two jalapenos, I think.

The sauce, even with the pasta soaking up some of the broth, was kind of thin. Tasty, but thin. If I wanted to thicken it, I’d add some sour cream to make it richer and thicken it.

I’ll have to remember this and play with it.

A guy in South Carolina put on a disguise before he robbed a cell phone store. Probably a good idea of you’re going to commit a crime in this age of ubiquitous security cameras.

But he decided to use spray paint to hide his face. Apparently the fumes from the paint were too much for him, and it killed him before he could make his getaway.

How’d you like to see that guy walking up to the Pearly Gates?

And to spread the love to our cousins in England, a young man was arrested after applying at a store he robbed a few days earlier.

OK, if you’re going to shoplift, and you can be sure that they know your face, don’t go back a couple of days later for a face to face meeting with the store manager. And if you have to, please apply a thick layer of spray paint to your face before going in. It’ll save time later.

Irish Woman and I were watching the local news tonight, and of course they covered the press conference that University of Louisville’s mens basketball coach held. Coach Pitino did his last conference about his infidelity scandal right. Make a quick, dignified statement, blame no-one but himself, and then get off the podium.

Tonight, he apparently decided to vent his spleen a little. While I understand his anger and frustration after the accusations made against him, going to the press is the last thing his family needs right now, and it’s the worst thing he can do for his reputation.

Coach Pitino should lay low, talk to the press through his lawyer, and not dignify the psycho hose beast that he schtupped in a restaurant any more press than she’s already getting.

Go back to what you do well, Mr. Pitino. Don’t feed the publicity monster and it will die soon enough.

Well, the last major portion of Girlie Bear’s hunting clothes arrived today.

Since she’s never been hunting before, I didn’t want to drop $200+ on camouflage for her. At the same time, I didn’t want her to go out to the woods in jeans and a sweater. I wanted her to feel that she had something just for her.

So the Irish Woman and I went out to the Dead Zoo last weekend to look around. They’re having a big sale, but sale is a relative term at Bass Pro. Most everything was still too rich for my blood. We did find a mesh leaf suit that was reasonably priced, which would have worked for the fall and then would have made an outer layer on top of warm clothing. It was $50, so I set that as my upper limit for clothes.

I spent a day or two going over the surplus sites on the Internet, and I was able to outfit her for less than just the cost of that leaf suit.

I got her a set of surplus Italian camouflage coveralls from Sportsmans Guide – $20.

I got her a surplus Swiss camouflage poncho for the inevitable rain – $5.

I got her a set of surplus West German lined mittens – $4.

I got her a surplus East German knapsack – $3.

I got the last 3 items from Centerfire Systems.

So, my little girl will be heading out to the woods with Italian coveralls, a Swiss poncho, and German mittens and backback. Heck, she’s NATO in the Bluegrass.

She already owns a good set of hiking boots. All I need to get her is an orange hat and vest, some long underwear, a neck gator, and a couple pairs of warm socks.

I’m quite proud of myself, and Girlie Bear is tickled to have stuff like this all her own. What the heck, I got a kick out of wearing old military stuff when I was her age. And if she decides she doesn’t enjoy hunting all that much, I’m not out that much money. I’ll just put it up for Baby Bear.

The other night, Girlie Bear wanted to see some pictures of herself when she was a baby. So I pulled out the album and started leafing through it to get to the period of her infancy.

As I was going along, she pointed at a picture and said “Who’s that with Baby Bear?”

It was a picture of my mother and me when I was about 18 months old at the state fair. And sure enough, if you bleach Baby Bear’s hair a few shades lighter, it’s the same kid.

I explained what the picture was, and she was tickled that Baby Bear resembled me so much, at least this month.

Then as we went along, she pointed at another picture and asked why Junior Bear was wearing my uniform.

It was my basic training portrait. She was right. Shave Junior’s head and put him in a uniform, and he’d almost match that guy.

Then we got to pics of her on her first birthday. Even though she’s a girl, and her hair was a bit darker, she had the same smile and poses as Baby Bear did on his first birthday.

My genes run strong. Strong like bull.

Live in fear for the future.

I’ve been raising children for 17 years now. Longer if you count my younger brothers and sisters.

I’ve gotten in trouble for the music I played around kids a lot.

My mom used to have a conniption when I would listen to borrowed AC/DC albums when I was in grade school and let my siblings listen too.

When Junior Bear was born, his mom used to get on me for listening to Prince around him, even though she’s from Minneapolis and loves his music:

Think she’ll think its’ funny?