Category: Holidays
Hot plate, señores!
December? December? Whose idea was this? Wasn’t it July just a couple of days ago? Why do I suddenly have to wear socks all the time? And pants? Who’s in charge around here, anyway?
Thanksgiving went nicely around Chez Dog, thanks for asking. We had the sis and bro-in-law in for the afternoon, neighbors in for the day after, and an old friend in for a quick visit on Saturday. And by the time we’d finally eaten the last of the leftovers on Sunday I was ready for a bit of peace and quiet, some casual cycling, and something to eat other than norteño New Mexican food.
For some reason I had been off New Mexican cookery for a while. And then the cooler weather hit, and before you could say “¡Hijo, madre!” it was chile and beans and posole and what have you.
For Thanksgiving I prepared some pico de gallo salsa and guacamole; posole; roasted potatoes in red chile; pintos in chipotle; and chicken enchiladas smothered in green chile. Herself kicked in a pitcher of sangria and a piñon pie, two recipes we’d never tackled before (they were excellent).
I should’ve taken some pix, but dammit, everything was just too good to let cool while I fiddled with the Canon. Sorry ’bout that. Here’s hoping your holiday was as enjoyable as ours.
Meanwhile, word from the Group W bench …
… is that you can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant, kid.
Happy Thanksgiving and/or Hanukkah to thee and thine. And don’t forget to pick up the garbage.
On the nickel, over there
I dressed up as an old bald white guy for Halloween, but nobody noticed. Too subtle, I guess.
We did get a record crowd of trick-or-treaters, which may or may not have something to do with the cuts to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program that took effect today.
One toddler pirate was into some serious pillaging, plucking booty from our candy bowl with both teensy fists. An adult joked, “I hope you’re planning to share that. …” Goddamn socialists. When I was a child, we had to make our own Halloween candy and then defend it by force of arms.
With this satanic celebration safely behind us now, it’s time for the sanctified seasonal festivities, like scrambling to find nifty places to stash the poor folks where holiday shoppers won’t have to look at ’em.
A beater South Nevada motel that has housed some 70 folks is closing, apparently to reopen in 2014 as “a center for mothers undergoing substance abuse treatment,” a need for which the necessary $300,000 per annum to house an estimated 20 moms and their kids has yet to materialize.
In the meantime, the Springs Rescue Mission will operate the city’s only overnight shelter for the chronically homeless throughout the winter, providing 30 beds for men and women. That has funding through April 15, but the mission apparently has plans to use the space for “an undetermined purpose” come springtime.
I bet springtime seems a long way off to a lot of these folks. The Baboon Caucus would like to ensure that it never comes. Not for the homeless. Anyone who doesn’t own at least three houses, a bank account in the Caymans and a senator is invisible to that crowd.
Mad Blog Media 