The Yellow Rose of Texas, c. 2008

Getting the hang o the board sweetcakes! Confederate by choice. Union? What's that? ;) There is NO force on this mudball that can force me to do anything and that's just how I like it. Confederate Yankee in King Arthurs court is an analog. An analogy. ;) I like those tents the Fey weave out of other peoples dreams. The Alfar of old may have gone under ground for awhile but the Siddhe are great at appearences and steal many hearts away even by day. ;)

In China the color yellow is the royal color...in America? Well, do you know the symbology of the Yellow Rose in Flower speak? Or when they call a man 'yellow?' Fools I say! I love golden rod and the color yellow, to me, reveals a heart of gold. Not the Midas touch but sincere, true, unrefined but simple and oh so shimmeringly sweet.

Are ya starting to see how this board works? WHen you want to imbed a pic with your post hit upload file! Heh, heh...weird. Sai that ship beyond the great barrier reef out into the open sea and holler at the top of your lungs that you were born FREE!

Lil Dou Glas (Means Black Water) ;)

No, Love, I still haven't a clue how this thing works! Glad to hear no force in the universe (save, one supposes, your mind, and love) can force you to do anything, but the rest of us haven't figured out how to purchase "goods" without the loathesome FRN or to hold on to property without paying Danegeld. "The tents the fey weave out of other people's dreams..." Beautiful. Yellow is the color of joy, sunshine, gold, daffodils and buttercups, and my favourite, as well. I'm stealing a few minutes while I have the crew mesmerised by V for Vendetta. Have found something nearly as bad (although not as dangerous) as an expert on Roberts' Rules of Order: a zealot with a loud voice who seizes upon every utterance and takes off across country with occasionally vaguely connected, although still irrelevant, pronouncements about Biblical prophecy. I finally had to tell him that I never worry about things I cannot control or alter, and that we are not talking about Armageddon but about the coming year. If I hear one more time that WE are the true Israelites I may say something considerably more pungent. In another corner two of the "boys" are engaged happily in debating the relative merits of firearms, as though they were Napoleon and Wellington chuckling over what they could do these days, or a small dictatorship with a new "leader" eyeing the treasury and deciding which toys he wanted. Gunboats or howitzers? Earth to supposedly rational adults, we are discussing--attempting to discuss--how to choose up sides for mutual protection when the Mexicans boil over the border, the truck drivers are on strike, foreign troops are doing more than lounging around on our soil (as they are now), and similar mildly useful topics. Fortunately, none of the distractors are candidates to join the Lady Linda's League of Lusty Warriors (for reasons of very short attention spans AND lack of more vital qualifications!) Calgon, take me away. Reminds me of the bumper sticker: the more I consider the North, the more I wonder how we lost the war. The more I consider some of the troops, the more I wonder if they are competent to lead a pack of Boy Scouts to the bathroom given the directions, "Straight down that hall, second door on the left." I DID come across a good solution today to starting the chickens now, though! One of William's long-term friends who bought a lot on my border. The HOA won't let her have chickens. I'll buy chickens and give her a place to take care of them, mark it off the list. I really do not have time to play Marie Antoinette at present. Lots of love, and a profound wish that we were lounging in hammocks gazing at stars we have never seen before and discussing truly important things, such as where we are, why, and what we're going to do about it. My vote would be to continue eating brisket and Kalamata olive bread, and hugging each other from time to time...Elle

Darling Blackwater:

A lovely, useful day, full of hugs and divine smoked and grilled ribs and chicken (even a freshly made coconut cream pie piled high with luscious meringue that I turned my green eyes away from resolutely. Fortunately, the men devoured every succulent crumb, as well as the chocolate marble cake.), and acquiring a source of wheat by the bushel. By the thousands of bushels to be precise. Only problem: I have to have a place to store it by my birthday. I sent the runners out to scour my kingdom for overhead storage bins, having declined the suggestion that I build another palace and let the golden grains (or whatever color Red Hard may actually be) spill over floors and pre-cast concrete walls...Want to turn some of that gold of yours into golden corn at $7/bushel or wheat at $13.50? Honest, officer, all I did was smile at the nice man...and not tell him the current price in many places is $40/bushel. It is HIS responsibility to know that, not mine to tell him. Wheat is more precious than gold because it is edible, and will make a magnificent trade good or allow life to go on for a very long time, although it makes very insubstantial jewelry unless one uses lost wax casting. The corn doesn't have to have storage bins until September.

What fun, you should come play, Old Mac Douglas, and I could send you forth on gallant missions of midnight requisition, and peer eagerly in the night for the sight of you returning with vast vats across your broad shoulders. Wheat has another excellent property, making a fine backstop for projectiles propelled at considerable speed, one good reason for the Palace idea, I admit. Chuckle. We could tell the BATF, "You can't shoot! You'll contaminate my food supply with lead! The EPA will have a fit, as will the FDA. Shooting me is 'legal,' but violating federal mandates will cause you to loose your boots and badges."

Interesting Q: what is the penalty, in wartime or not, for lying to one's commanding officer? I would think being cashiered in peacetime, at the very least. No, of course I am not guilty of such an offense! I never lie to anyone. Life is too short and people aren't worth it. Well, the "officer" involved was never anything more than the general's ditzy concubine, in itself an offense against all that is right and holy.

My timetable has been accelerated even more, so I'm going to try to swat a few pesky gnats tomorrow, knock out plans for at least the "commercial" kitchen and shop area, and do a cost analysis on two smaller buildings as opposed to one larger one. Then I have to go walk the land a bit so I can call the bulldozer man and have him come play in the sacred soil of the ancestral acres. I have another myrmidon out seeking a small drilling rig for water wells (liquid gold in times of crisis) and see if we can't get three wells put in at least by the end of the year. I'm looking for a windmill at a good price, too. I'm going to go buy an additional tank for propane and have him dig a nice hole for that, too. The bulldozer man, that is.

I have two goals for the guns of August until....? I want to come out alive, with all my faithful guard in sound condition, and to come through it RICH. Pink slips (Mercedes or better), diamonds, land (notary and lawyer available) and similar geegaws in return for eggs, fresh roasted rabbit haunches, and gallons of pure, fresh, delicious water...I have always wanted to be a robber baron!

Love, Regina

Well, I hope the generals' ditsy concubine was a woman and not a man but...theRMA has bred many a strange monster so...hmmmmm.

The shindig sounds like it was an absolute hoot. Fun and games? I mean outside of the traditional 'shooting matches' such as bobbing for apples or ring around the rosy or red rover red rover or are you all to grown up for 'kid' games?

Wishing I could have been there is a redundancy that I'll just have to allow myself as the gap approaches and Fenriz, with Loki at the helm, comes howling forth at Ragnarok to murder mighty Thor.

From wheat you can make gluten and from, gluten you can make meat substitute and if it is well seasoned it tastes just like cubed steak and has the same consistancy if you are wise in the pounding or...you can make it resemble the consistancy of chicken nuggets or...

Wheat is a good investment only you must make absolutely sure that no water or dampness of any kind (Air tight containers) gets in and just o make sure you should put in those containers the wee thingamabobs which absorb water. I forget what they are called but they do the trick. Else...you'll have wheat that is only good for penicillin and entheogenic brews. Tsk, tsk...can't have that, now, can we? Rice...the same.

The penalty for lying to an officer in wartime can be death. Depends...but if it was a ditsy concubine with naught but provisional rankage then...shoot the bastard if he hollers and take the whore unto thine own true self as spoils of war. Who the holy "F" needs generals anyway? IN SF you can only go as high as a Colonel! And the Navy, of course, has its' Commodores. Perry, as an example. Not every Captain is a Hornblower (Another Hero of mine.)

Notary and lawyer available? Now that sounds very interesting. Pink slips? That sounds weird (Oh, for the cars!) Rich is a state of mind. I like dining on pheasant.

Looks like you've a lot of work cut out for you over the next few days.

I'm glad this end is working. The forum, I mean. And slowly, surely, it will all come together. Gotta get out of this cold for a bit, now, and give my fingers a rest. BBL so I can read the rest of your posts and comment too. I'm commenting without logging in, now, casue I'm so tired. So all the best and all the rest till later on in the day.

Au Revoir ~

El Cid

Dear Anonymous:

The Daisy is a super ditz and will be bounced as soon as she refunds the ten thousand she stole! Some men have really great taste in females, huh? Not having a fort or a sword, the Colonel contented himself with divesting her of her credentials and badge.

The shindig was, indeed, splendid, and no, none of us are too old for "kid" games. Having neither horses nor goats, we didn't get to the doubtless wonderfully amusing sport similar to polo, although I could come up with some Jordanian drag that would fit you. Can't you imagine the lot of us racing around the pastures whooping like maniacs and swinging at the "ball?!" Grief, we'd have every cop in the county here in no time, and I don't think they would like the bland explanation that we were practicing cultural diversity. The Colonel outshot 'em all, I having enough sense to grab a quick nap while they played. We laughed, discussed plans excitedly, had lavish eats, only a few beers got consumed (s'okay, the bottles of Chivas, bourbon, tequilla, and rum I got will go into the stores), while I sat on the buffet and put my well-manicured toes on the table. When I sat in a chair the fellows had more trouble paying attention to me. They could literally talk over my head. We kept the Apocalypse fellow under control, and ignored the one who wanted to brag about how rich he is. I bought wheat and corn--it was terrific, truly, and the fellows would have been agog had you been here.

I'll count on you to show me what to do with the wheat, which will be stored in professional containers. One of the amusing incidents was two people knowledgeable about such things trying to talk me out of floor space and reinforced concrete walls for it! I'm having a little trouble envisioning Chicken Fried wheat patties, but my faith in you is still strong. Containers full of dessicant are what you have in mind. The fellows tell me wheat has to be able to breathe, and suggested wooden floors, at which point I said with admirable patience that it made more sense to purchase a $1500 container MEANT for that purpose for each thousand bushels, so go find me some. That puts the total price up to $13.50/bushel when I know it is worth forty, and I will still have nice big containers I could grow fish in, or something if they are ever emptied. In context your "entheogenic" makes sense but I am constrained to tell you that Mr. Webster does not recognize it.

Don't gots no "hoes," Suh, only occasionally friendly ladies. The ditz got jealous because she wasn't invited to the meeting, took 15 very powerful pills, told gen-gen, and locked herself in the bathroom. It wasn't a serious suicide attempt, just a distraction, obviously. He had the door beaten down, and they hauled her off to the hospital. That part I understand. What I do NOT grasp is why he didn't get in the car calmly and make the drive, either before or after calling 911. Has the man no sense of proportion? NObody wants the ditz even as spoils of war.

In Rangers we only go as high as Colonel, too. Tradition, don'tcha know. Ah, Horatio! How MANY times I have read the whole series, starting as a child. Tell me you're crazy about Sharpe, too!

Pheasant is good, but we may be getting to where less fussy folk dine on peasants, whose pelts aren't nearly as pretty. Money has only three uses: future security, current living expenses (I do believe in living well), and if anything is left over, spend it on frivolity. Did you like the account of the fellow who tested the Taser he bought for his wife on himself?!

I have two goals: to come out of this alive, and to come out of it rich! Because it is easier to protect ourselves when there are lots of golden doubloons spilling over the top of the bathtub, you see, and if I end up Souse of the Border it is always useful to be able to buy off the Federales and Rurales. I really have always wanted to be a Robber Baroness in my castle on the river...

REAL riches is having whatever you want, and if I won a fifty million dollar lottery it wouldn't change my life much at all. All I would do with it is buy a splendid tangle of land about forty miles out, throw up and stock a 10,000 square foot building back in very inhospitable terrain, move my treasures, and get a little liposuction, and then go back to doing just what I always do. I can't imagine a bigger horror than an around the world cruise, or partying with the "beautiful" people, or whatever they're calling themselves these days. I want to sit in my house well off the side of the road and be a friend to a small, very select few--with enough baksheesh available to insure I am left alone. You know, the simple things of life! A jug of wine, a loaf of fresh-baked ciabatta bread spread with Boursin or better, a nicely-roasted bird, and thou (and him and him and him, if you aren't available) beside me, doing assorted things in the wilderness.

I still don't know what BBL means, or why you work out of doors. Are you claustrophobic? I am, a bit. Small spaces I can handle, but low ceilings make me antsy. Not a good kind of antsy.

I've got my work cut out for me until the day the riots break out--and for long afterwards. However, it keeps me busy and amused, even when it is sad. There will be two children, which means I need to have birthday candles...but unless I work out what they will want on their next birthdays and stock that, too...Christmas presents will be things we make ourselves unless we take part of our personal storage space for that purpose. Oh! That HURTS. I am accustomed to very lavish Christmases, but the chances that either of my children will be here are virtually non-existent. However, there is the consolation that I am building a new extended family, and I won't be "alone." DO plan on being here for me at Christmas, loved one, and for Thanksgiving. I'm rather like the British in the time of the Raj. I believe in sticking to dignity, traditions, and civilized ways. There won't be any native servants or little boys with turbans and ostrich feather fans, but there IS a couple that will take care of the housework and similar chores in return for the roof over their heads and the food on the table. Gee, I'm halfway to being a robber baroness already! I've got to get MY self in bed, too, so I'll write tomorrow. Much love and

Arrivederla, Tessoro