Harder butter is not always better butter
Our dog-neighbour with the spooky eyes has joined our pack for the night. He came early, silently, and made himself at home without incident. Later, a family member dropped off the huge electrical hand control (he wears the equivalent of those ankle bracelets favoured by convicts, except around his neck); I don’t need to use it, because we don’t let him run away to see the world. I feel good that we are seen as a refuge for a tame creature. Next on the list, the wilds from outside.
On my list of brick walls (it’s a genealogy thing), I had to find the parents of an aunt-by-marriage. The person showed up in the regular places, but I couldn’t get back beyond that generation. The reason was simple. A single letter, miscopied by a census taker over a century ago. With a better reference, I was able to rewind by several generations. Think about that. A single letter. For those of you that still write stuff down, please recheck your entries.
Son #2 took part in a demonstration/protest, some years ago. Managed to get “kettled” by the authorities, and placed in short term custody. No arrest, though. Fast forward. After much debate, the authorities now agree that he was illegally held; the penalty to the authorities is almost $3900. Just proves that he with the badge and the baton is not always right.
And in other news, if your butter seems harder than before, it could be due to the addition of palm oil. So much for my belief that butter was better than margarine.
