Red Mosquito

Biff Pocoroba wrote:I tried dandelion leaves. Supposedly it’s a very nutritious plant and it’s entirely edible. So I picked some leaves from the backyard, it’s untreated and there is plenty of tender looking dandelion leaves to choose from. I ate one raw. I then picked a few more, enough for a few bites. I washed them off and mixed them with a little olive oil, garlic powder, and Parmesan cheese.
They have a very leafy green taste to them as you can imagine. Definitely a vegetable taste. There is also a slight bitterness. It wasn’t awful but I can’t see myself regularly having a dandelion salad either.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

spike wrote:

LetMeSleep wrote:This is quite the happy way to end my time at this place. Sorry Spenno.

tragabigzanda wrote:I’m wrapping up a day that’s similar to Reid’s, just a giant pain in the ass. But he’s had multiples days like this in a row, so I’ll spare the details.

Sorry Reid. Hoping your Sunday is better.

Bammer wrote:Dandelion leaves sound a lot like arugula

washing machine wrote:

tragabigzanda wrote:I’m wrapping up a day that’s similar to Reid’s, just a giant pain in the ass. But he’s had multiples days like this in a row, so I’ll spare the details.

Sorry Reid. Hoping your Sunday is better.

Share away if you want. This is the place. Hope your day gets a little better tomorrow too.

Or I hope at least that doug shares whatever the tragabigzanda road equivalent of Astros ephemera is with you.

dad wrote:did the most dad thing i could think of today. ran to lowes for supplies to do a deep clean of our grill. i think we've owned it as long as we've been in this house...at least four years, and i've only brushed the grates.

i watched a handful of youtube vids to see how it's done, and all of them said it takes about two hours from start to finish. i think it took four hours. i listened to wilco while cleaning, adding to the dad vibes. when i finally finished i reseasoned the grates. now i'm on a mission to find a stainless steel griddle to try my hand a Smashburger summer.

i hope things improve for trag and Reid.

Bammer wrote:

dad wrote:did the most dad thing i could think of today. ran to lowes for supplies to do a deep clean of our grill. i think we've owned it as long as we've been in this house...at least four years, and i've only brushed the grates.

i watched a handful of youtube vids to see how it's done, and all of them said it takes about two hours from start to finish. i think it took four hours. i listened to wilco while cleaning, adding to the dad vibes. when i finally finished i reseasoned the grates. now i'm on a mission to find a stainless steel griddle to try my hand a Smashburger summer.

i hope things improve for trag and Reid.

Gotta be honest with ya, dad, I can very much see childless guys doing this.

dad wrote:did the most dad thing i could think of today. ran to lowes for supplies to do a deep clean of our grill. i think we've owned it as long as we've been in this house...at least four years, and i've only brushed the grates.

i watched a handful of youtube vids to see how it's done, and all of them said it takes about two hours from start to finish. i think it took four hours. i listened to wilco while cleaning, adding to the dad vibes. when i finally finished i reseasoned the grates. now i'm on a mission to find a stainless steel griddle to try my hand a Smashburger summer.

i hope things improve for trag and Reid.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.