Tuna Casserole & the Internet

From time to time, Mr. Big Food and I reluctantly leave the Farm and visit your world.

Your World has really really fast internet.


This is not neuroscience.

I appreciate that the pace of life is too fast.

But it’s unacceptable that it took 30 mins. to transmit 2 photos.


Tuna Casserole I

I was hoping to post a few photos of this evening’s supper– Tuna Casserole I.

As you have noticed, it’s been a LOOOONG time since I’ve religiously posted food photographs and recipes.

The reason is that we had to change our accommodations with Verizon.

Verizon Satellite it the only way we connect to the World Wide Web.

We once had unlimited data. That was nice. And then Verizon raised the price of unlimited and priced us out of the market. So we did some analytics on our data usage and discovered that because we never before had used more that 13 Gigabytes of data, the 15 Gig plan would work for us.

As would the extra bitch-and-we-will-give-you-2-extra-gigs-and now we are up to paying for 15-20-30 gigs.


Mind you, nothing in our behavior has changed.

We are being scammed and we know it.

So now we are back on an “unlimited” plan that is slower than molasses.


Sometimes I turn the radio on in the truck after the kids have driven the truck. (N.P.R.)

There’s a great ad telling people who are on government assistance that they might qualify for a reduction in their internet bill or something.

Oh! I see that the photos I sent to my laptop from my phone are arriving. 30 mins. late.

I really do have a question

How long does it take to charge up the charger?


It boasts that it can convert ~25% of the sun’s energy onto electrons your devices want to devour at lickidy smart speed.

The sun. Hahahaha.

But how much sun does it take to charge the charger?

This is measurable stuff.

In my clime– Mississippi- I’d be inclined to… .


I’m Proud to be…

an Okie from Muskogee.

Muskogee, Oklahoma, USA.

And the land you belong to is Grand…


“That’s a movie we should watch. Shirley Jones. Before she was Mrs. Partridge,” said Mr. Big Food.

“OKLAHOMA,” said I.

Stand up.

Stand up for Jesus.

I understand that there is new interest in Jesus.

Black film. [The file title is Film-Noir-Wedding-Cake]


That’s photoshopped. Nobunny that tiny has that much soft flea-free fur.

And if you don’t get this, … .

All via last Saturday’s via Powerline’s The Week in Pictures.

I think I have a book about writing comedy

Saturday Supper

Brunch this morning was awesome. We had buttermilk pancakes and a sausage and apple breakfast casserole. And Jordan mixed a delightful tomato morning beverage.

And we went for a walk and then we had Daughter C’s homemade mango & mixed fruit gelato.


I know that there are louder places on Earth, but I like the quiet.

Little Fella Update


There are no pictures.

Back in the crappy olden days, one of the best/worst things in your life was vacationing with your parents’ friends. At first it was cool seeing your face on the slide projected above the fireplace. … .

Cha-Cha-Cha-Changin’… .

He’s a cute, smart kid, by the way.

He can walk around the room spouting gibberish.

He’s a little boy. Thumbs up, M.

It Were Fancy Tuesday

Notice how I managed in one swoop to obliterate both agreement and tense.

These are some leaks.

These are the leaks in cream sauce topped with a breadcrumb-butter mixture about to go in the oven.

There was some discussion about how many breadcrumbs this dish needed.

I lost.

It happens.

This is Poulet Marengo. Mr. Big Food got this recipe from Craig Claibourne’s New York TImes Cookbook.

Look. I’ve lived in Mississippi for more than seven years. I know that Craig Claibourne was a Mississippi native.

This is a Craig Claiborne recipe.

He was a Mississippi boy.

The Sopranos

[Read in your Mind’s best New Jersey accent.]

It’s over.

I couldn’t be happier.

I mean, I watched six fuckin’ seasons of this shit and what do I get as a.. what’s it called?… a de-nu-somtingorfucking other. I get a family in a diner. I get Meadow so incompetent that she can’t even parallel park a car. I get a guy going into da toilet. Maybe he’s going to blast Tony’s brains out. Maybe not.

I get talk therapists who don’t even have the gumption to get pissed when they’re insulted.  [Lisp just a smidge when you read that line.]

And then I get a blank– no I mean— black screen. Like that’s supposed to be meaningfulorsomesuch shit. What the hell? Is it jest me?

I mean, seriously. I watched six seasons of a television show about… SIX FUCKING SEASONS, I’m saying.


In all honesty, I do not know what the hoopla was about and I’m happy to be rid of it.

Though I do consider it a badge of honor that we stuck it out. Now we know. Lesson learned.

Happy Easter.

Here’s an interesting subtext train of thought

As you are well aware, there are a lot of books at the Farm.

In last week’s newspaper, there was a call to donate books.

If you are interested, the project is called “United We Read.” It’s a redistribution project, but as books have value that cannot be quantified but can only be piled on, I am in favor of this project.

So I went through a few shelves of books from back in the day. I asked if any had (sentimental) value (as I had observed that they had all taken these lessons to heart).

I sent it as an email with two panels, one of which you are seeing. And please note that sheet music for all of the Hanson’s Greatest Hits was omitted.

In an email, I said,

I am donating some books to a local book drive aimed at distributing books to both kids and adults for summer reading.

Do you have attachments to any of these?

Let me know!

Love you!

Remarkably– and if I do say so myself– all three have replied.

Within about a minute or so, Miss M repled:

Nope. I’ll allow it.

The gall. She doesn’t even live here anymore. “Allow.” Ha!

Shortly thereafter, Kat said, “I recognize some, but they’re all OK to donate. Thanks for asking!” 

Passover has begun. You would call yourselves lucky to have such wonderful daughters.

And now, after having sent the original email several hours ago, Daughter C, who lives like right up those steps– and who trips over me (her mother) all the time replied, “Yes, please do not give those away just yet.  I have books you can give away.”

 O. Kay.

The American Dream

If you drew the Lucky Card and were born in the United States of America because your ancestors were smart enough to get the hell out of Europe in the 1600s, 1870s, 1930s…

you are acquainted with The American Dream.


There are a lot of rough edges, but I think we have achieved the American Dream


Rocky? Missy?

This had been a lot of fun.

I thank the Good Lord Almighty that Birmingham, Alabama is a mere … 45 mins. … …. … just over there.

We’ll be home soon.