This is the time of the year when the right kind of cucumbers is available at the City Market and elsewhere to make pickles.
If you buy too much old dill just hang the leftovers in a dry place, it will dry up nicely and will be usable later on.
While you are at the market make sure to pick up a case of mangoes at the Little Saigon on 3rd and Grand.
Another May Day is here and there is still plenty of time to celebrate by walking around with red flags, playing marching music and shouting the approved slogans:
Long live the unity and close ties of the peoples of the nations of the socialist community! Let strengthen the indissoluble fighting union of the Communist parties of the socialist nations on the basis of the tested principles of Marxism- Leninism and proletarian internationalism!
Fraternal greeting to the working class of the capitalist nations–a selfless fighter against exploitation and the domination of monopolies and for the rights of all workers, for peace, democracy and socialism!
Warm greeting to the people of Latin America, carrying on a courageous struggle against the oppression of imperialist monopolies, against reaction and fascism, for free and independent development, for peace, democracy, and social progress!
My Momma always said: Topeka is like a box of CrackerJack… sorry, wrong post…
For a long time I had in mind to climb to the top of the Kansas State Capitol and take a good bird’s-eye look at the great state of Kansas where the Capitol just happened to be located.
One good thing about our state’s capital is meetings. There was some kind of meeting about clean air and stuff.
To have a good meeting you always need:
Old ladies with signs and canes.
Cute chicks.
Women-voters (with an occasional stray man holding on to the sign).
A fat kid with the sign about what he wants to be when he grows up.
A union guy who hasn’t done any work in the past 20 years.
A bike-riding hippie with dreadlocks.
And a fat dude wearing an apocalyptic t-shirt.
I don’t recycle and I don’t want to die so we moved on to the next death threat.
Inside the capitol we got busy climbing 296 steps to the top.
The internal dome looks like this from the outside.
The legend is:if you make a wish inside the dome it will come true. But it doesn’t always work.
From the top you can check if your car didn’t get towed.
Meeting participants were still lingering on, checking the air quality after the meeting.
Inside, a group of people lined up for a photo-op in a mutually uncomfortable formation (because normal people are listening to the speech facing the speaker).
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_r2o8_8Yso
That’s the inner dome from the inside.
The truth truck was right – governor must have perished, good thing I didn’t flip them off.
Visit Topeka!
Entire text of this post is taken from the Time article “Wedding Day at Independence”
“I feel that marriage vows are sacred,” memoired Margaret Truman recently, “and I hope that mine will be spared the hurly-burly attending a news event.” Last week in Trinity Episcopal Church at Independence, Mo., where her parents were married 36 years ago, Margaret, now 32, saw her hope accomplished; she became Mrs. Elbert Clifton Daniel Jr. with more dignity and less hurly-burly than a former President’s daughter and TV-radio star could expect.
A month after her engagement announcement, Margaret left Manhattan for Independence stubbornly determined on dignity. She disappeared into the family’s 14-room, white Victorian house at 219 North Delaware Street for a week’s seclusion, emerged only to greet New York Timesman Daniel when he flew in,
On the wedding eve she relented slightly, agreed to join Daniel in a 20-minute press conference for 50 encamped reporters. (Sample exchange: News hen: “I would like to ask what may be an embarrassing question . . .” Daniel: “Don’t ask it.”)
The wedding day burst fair and warm; Margaret Truman walked out of the 91-year-old house a last time on the arm of her ever-punctual, this time solemn father.
A crowd had circled the Truman gate to admire her gown of antique Venetian lace, pale beige in color because “white doesn’t become me.” Margaret paused to smile at them, then ducked into a limousine for the five-minute, six-block journey to Trinity Church. “She looks beautiful, Mr. Truman,” called a voice from the crowd. “Thank you, thank you very much,” said the farther of the bride. “I think so too.”
The tiny, freshly painted church was half full; some 60-odd were there, including ten reporters chosen to represent the corps. The guests were relatives and friends.
Among them were a handful whose names were familiar: ex-Treasury Secretary John Snyder, New York Real Estate Magnate William Zeckendorf, John Frederics (whose lace-crowned bridal veil Margaret wore), Italian Couturière Micol Fontana (who was commissioned to create the wedding gown because it was a Fontana dress Margaret was wearing one evening last November when she first met Daniel).
The Rev. Patric Hutton, 30-year-old rector of the church, read the marriage ceremony, watched as Daniel slipped a plain gold band on his bride’s finger.
After 30 minutes in the receiving line, bride and groom slipped away to catch a train for the first leg of their honeymoon in Nassau. Margaret Truman had not been the only important bride of the week, but when it was all said and done, hers was the wedding that gave the U.S. that next-door feeling even if the nation stood on tiptoe to catch every detail of the other one.
Civil War on the Border is coming to Olathe this weekend. Since I literally live across the street from the “battlefield” we try to go every year. Besides interesting historical demonstrations and historically accurate outfits, two things always amaze me during this event. One, is how geeky and ridiculous these people look trying to stay in character all weekend, riding their horses to the convenience store, and speaking with imaginary “old-timey” accents. The other thing is that there is no good-looking people there. With my own looks, my standards are low. This place makes me look like Brad Pitt.
It’s fun and it’s free, so check it out for yourself. I suggest timing your visit to see the battle at the conclusion of both days. Somehow, fat guys always die first since they can’t run too far. There will be gun and cannon fire, smoke, horses, food and crafts. And most of all, a reminder that war sucked then and still sucks now.
Here are some of my pictures from previous year:
