Great Boston Molasses Tragedy!!

The Boston Molasses Disaster, also known as the Great Molasses Flood and the Great Boston Molasses Tragedy, occurred on January 15, 1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston. A large molasses tank burst and a wave of molasses rushed through the streets at an estimated 35 mph, killing 21 and injuring 150. Residents claim that on hot summer days the area still smells of molasses.

Near Keany Square, at 529 Commercial Street, a huge molasses tank 50 ft tall, 90 ft in diameter and containing as much as 2,300,000 gal collapsed. Witnesses stated that as it collapsed there was a loud rumbling sound like a machine gun as the rivets shot out of the tank, and that the ground shook as if a train were passing by.

The collapse unleashed an immense wave of molasses between 8 and 15 ft high.

It took four days before rescuers stopped searching for victims; many dead were so glazed over in molasses, they were hard to recognize.

It took over 87,000 hours to remove the molasses from the cobblestone streets, theaters, businesses, automobiles, and homes. The harbor was brown with molasses until summer.
- Wikipedia

Tip of the Day

If you habitually and inexplicably set off alarms when you exit stores, try checking your clothing for anti-theft tags. One of those tags might be doing it, particularly if you remember that every time you set off an alarm you were wearing the same pair of jeans...

Dear Rat

Dear Rat,

Smack yourself for being in Warsaw on Thanksgiving.
That is all.

Affectionately,
Me

Good Scent in Your Hands

Being with my family, reflecting on God's goodness and baking comprises the warm feeling Thanksgiving gives me. We started baking today, my mom and I. She made a pecan and an apple pie, I made pumpkin. We'll do most of the cooking tomorrow but baking pies the day before Thanksgiving is my favorite part.

Tomorrow we will be caught up in a cyclone of peeling, braising, chopping, mashing and kneading. Worrying about the internal temperature of turkeys. But today we enjoy the sunlight drenching the room and the rising and falling of Sarah Brightman's voice. Hot pumpkin seeds crackle in the cook stove. The scent of simmering apples and wood smoke spreads through the house.

My hands smell like pumpkin, freshly ground ginger and cinnamon, reminding me of this quote:

"When my grandmother cooked there was no measuring spoon or anything--it was all measured with the hand... She would use her hands to throw in the salt, even. She would say that when you spice food, use your hands so that it carries the scent on your fingers. And when a woman cooks well, they don't say, 'You are a good cook,' they say 'You have a good scent in your hands.'"

Shoba Narayan

I heart this recipe, btw.

Turkey shoot

Play the turkey shoot game, its lotsa fun!! I laughed the entire time--must have been the sherry--which really threw my aim off.

Thanks to Lindsay and the entire United crew who tirelessly search the internet at their employer's expense to find funny forwards, pictures and games to amuse me ;)

Promise

“But blessed are those who trust in the Lord

and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.

They are like trees planted along a riverbank,

with roots that reach deep into the water.

Such trees are not bothered by the heat

or worried by long months of drought.

Their leaves stay green,

and they never stop producing fruit."

Jer. 17: 7&8

Word of the day: pugnacious

Phrase of the day: unmitigated temerity

Non-dictionary word: nervatious

Foreign expression: Oy vey

Helium

Call me Ishmael

Druey, you were right. The first paragraph of Moby Dick is fabulous.

Call me Ishmael [Ok, Ishmael]. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation [is he being facetious or serious? hilarious!]. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth [great word picture]; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul [whatta metaphor!]; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet [oh Ishmael I hear ya]; and especially whenever my hypos [hypos = stimulus] get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off [do it Ishmael, stick it to the man!!!] - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball [good on ya, violence is not the answer]. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship [its a lot less drastic]. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me [that's true, that's true].

Current mood: I'd rather be reading

Jesse Owens and Luz Long

American representative Jesse Owens seemed sure to win the long jump at the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin, Germany. The year before he had jumped 26 feet, 8 1/4 inches—a record that would stand for twenty five years. As he walked to the long-jump pit, however, Owens saw a tall, blue-eyed, blond German taking practice jumps in the 26-foot range.

Owens felt nervous. He was acutely aware of the Nazis' desire to prove "Aryan superiority," especially over blacks. At this point, the tall German introduced himself as Luz Long. "You should be able to qualify with your eyes closed!" he said to Owens, referring to his two jumps.

For the next few moments the black son of a sharecropper and the white model of Nazi manhood chatted.

Then Long made a suggestion. Since the qualifying distance was only 23 feet, 5 1/2 inches, why not make a mark several inches before the takeoff board and jump from there, just to play it safe? Owens did and qualified easily.

In the finals Owens set an Olympic record and earned the second of four gold medals. The first person to congratulate him was Luz Long—in full view of Adolf Hitler. Owens never again saw Long, who was killed in World War II.

"You can melt down all the medals and cups I have," Owens later said, "and they wouldn't be a plating on the 24-carat friendship I felt for Luz Long."

-by Dr. Paul Chappell

Ninjun

As in a ninja and an Injun combined. I thought I invented a word but alas, I did not. Curse you, urbandictionary.com!!

Quoth She

If humans were made of chessecake I'd be a cannibal.
-Luke

Occam's razor, skunk, and the election

I have to thank William of Occam (or Ockham) for his wonderful logic tool, the theory known as Occam's razor. I rely on it tremendously. Simply put (that's the only way I could put it), the theory is that the simplest explanation is the best one. However, the way I think of it is, the most obvious explanation is the right one.

Occam's razor, among other factors, leads me to believe that someone placed a dead skunk on our walkway last night. It is the most likely explanation for the presence of said skunk. It seems more likely than the probability that the skunk, after receiving it's injuries, dragged itself to out walkway and expired. It also seems more likely that someone put it there than that an animal dragged or carried it to our walkway and left it there.

Additionally, the animal appears to have been dead for a few days. My dad thinks it is bloated, ie decomposition has begun, which rules out the idea of an injured skunk dragging itself and dying on our doorstep.

For suspects, I'd put my money on either union goons, because they have threatened my dad in the past, or the same people who removed our political signs. Or maybe they are one and the same. Anyway....

I wonder if every McCain voter is feeling the same today; discouraged, upset, worried, fearful? I've been struggling with these feelings but God has been so good in giving me hope. He reminded me that Jesus, not the Obamanation, is my future and Jesus, not John McCain, is my hope. I have a glorious inheritance in Christ Jesus. I am a citizen of that world. Our struggle is against evil spirits and powers, not people, and they are already defeated. Jesus conquered them, saying, "It is finished."

Amen!

Rumpelstiltskin

According to Wikipedia, "Some versions say that if she [the miller's daughter] failed, she would be skewered and then fricasseed like a pig".

From this moment on I will be actively looking for occasions to use the phrase skewered and fricasseed like a pig.

Also noteworthy is this line about The Three Billy Goats Gruff: "It has an 'eat-me-when-I'm-fatter' plot."

Thank you, Wiki, for comic relief on this otherwise somber day.