Joining the 21st Century

The Divine Cabin has joined the 21st century; thought you'd like to know. Last night I got to watch Kill Bill and then a 1986 Mike Tyson fight. Wow. And that after a 30-mile cruise on the freeway seeing all the fireworks from the all the towns from the city to out-here. And that was after dinner at my favorite Italian place, with good comp'ny.

Port in a Storm

I said to the doctor, “Did I do this to myself? Should I go back to never drinking, not even a beer a month, a glass of wine? Should I never eat meat? Give up dairy? Should I give up sex? Doesn’t that stir up hormones? Isn’t it bad for me?”

And the doctor answered, “It’s not just about longevity. It’s about quality of life. If you enjoy something, that is the best medicine. Do what makes you happy, and have fun. Don’t give up doing anything that a normal person would do.” (In short: "Live Life.")

So I ordered this case of port, a terrific extravagance; it is the first case of wine that I have ever bought. But it’s so good, will stay good for years, and I won’t drink it [all] myself. I’ll give bottles to friends, drink it with friends. And give bottles as a thank-you to the people who helped and encouraged me while I cried and was down, and to hosts who’ll invite me to parties and dinner. I’m going to have fun.

Dinner is Served

Knights of Columbus barbecued in the parking lot by the ballfields today, and at dusk I got my dinner there, and would like to share it with you, so here it is, the Midwest's finest meal: Barbecued chicken with sauce, corn on the cob, cole slaw dressed with oil and vinegar, and baked beans (not too sweet. I like to slice a jalapeno into them).

Leave the city. Y'all come on over for dinner -- I'll buy you your own dish of barbecue, just like this one -- and you will know true bliss. Say grace first! ("Mumble mumble thy bounty, mumble our Lord Amen.") Happy first day of summer. I love your company. To my British and Aussie readers: This is what we eat in America.

I Don't Got No TV

After last week's digital changeover, I get only 3 TV channels and they are channels of nightmare: one broadcasting over and over, in English and then in Spanish, the message that if I'm seeing this message I am f----d and should call some number that never answers; and two digital channels owned by, run by, and featuring the best-known local evangelist. (And his toupee.) (Whatever it is about toupees, I can't take my eyes off 'em.) The only entertainment offered is reruns of "I Spy." I sh-t you not.

Getting any signal at all proves my antenna and TV do receive digital -- without a converter box -- but most signals from the city, 35 miles away, are too puny now to reach me. AT&T U-Verse doesn't serve this area. Guess I'll try a company a day until I find one that will. Wonder how many people are diggin' through their pockets to do the same as I.

In the meantime I let the TV mumble through its repeating nightmare. For company. To fill the dark corners of the house and the mind. And I don't chide myself. I've seen TV all my life and can't be expected to go without it for the remainder.

Wild in the Lawn

Unable to mow the lawn right now, but why would I mow anyway, when what grew up is this riot of orange wild daylilies (also called "ditch lilies" and "junk lilies"), brown-eyed susans, and fleabane. It's better than a botanical garden, because it's 100 percent natural. A metropolis for bugs, bunnies, chipmunks, snakes and all kinds of birds in the corner of my yard. And all I had to do was -- nothing. Let that be a lesson to me.

Each lily blooms for only one day. Let that be a lesson too!

German Contributions to America

Visiting Hermann and other formerly German settlements along the Missouri River, one remembers the things German immigrants brought to America; how wonderful:

• Breweries
• Beer gardens
• Wineries
• The town band
• Oktoberfest
• Clock towers
• Turnverein (fellowship groups, like today’s “athletic clubs”)
• Bratwurst (and knackwurst, liverwurst, wieners, and so on)
• Dance halls
• Potato pancakes
• Music schools and conservatories
• Pumpernickel bread

Thank you!

Wine Country

Pictured, my old schoolfriend Anthony from New York State, born in Brooklyn. Yeah, he's Italian. In fact he's a professional Italian, so wanted to visit Missouri wine country, about 30 or 40 miles northwest from the Divine homestead. Particularly Hermann, MO, because it's a German-settled town and his wife is of German descent. Germans settled there in the mid-1800s because its hills and view of the Missouri River reminded them of the scenery on the Rhine River. Immediately on the south-facing slopes of their hills they planted grapes. And this picture proves that wherever you have wines, you have Italians. He's holding up a blush wine. He also bought me a bottle of port -- he said, "this is the best domestic port I have ever tasted--" I figure I should listen to an Italian. Because he can't take it on a plane I will be shipping him bottles of port to Ithaca, New York. Missouri has 78 wineries.