R.I.P Graham Greene

Graham Greene
(June 22, 1952 – September 1, 2025)
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Okay, so I'm not one of those folks who gets wrapped around the axle when it concerns celebrities. But in this case I'll make an exception, this guy was an awesome actor. He will be missed.

Shortly after Mr. Greene's passing the internet (as expected) was filled with memorials to him and articles regarding his career, which for most people was Dances With Wolves, but he was in a lot of other things as well. The man could do comedy!

Rest in peace, Sir. You were taken too young.

La Chanson de l'Oignon Is Not the Name of This Blog

Screen Capture from the Video Below

Okay Sarge, did you fall and hit your head?

Why is the post title in French, what's that song all about anyway? Are we talking about World War One today? Come on, what's going on?

And for those wondering, yes, the Sarge does love onions fried in oil. Maybe it's my French DNA. Oh really, I suppose you love haggis too, because of your Scots DNA?

Yes, I love haggis.

Now where were we?

The song of the onion, a catchy tune, innit? (I know, I know, YMMV.)

So yeah, back in 2012 when I decided to become a blogger, first thing I needed was a title for the blog. I had something in mind, but couldn't find it on the web of world-wideness. So I went with Chant du Départ instead of my original idea.

See where I'm going with this?

Yup, you were within moments of having this blog named the Chanson de l'Oignon. Yup, song of the onion.

Probably a good thing because the humorous website, The Onion, might have sued me for copyright infringement, supposing that their lawyers could speak French.

So what is this song about anyway, other than the obvious love French soldiers have for fried onions?

It came about in 1800 when Napoléon was wandering the bivouacs of his army in Italy. This was well before he became the emperor of France, he was First Consul at the time. The Consulate was the form of government in France at the time. Theoretically three guys, consuls, shared power. In reality, Napoléon was the first among "not so equals."

Now back to the bivouac story, Bonaparte (as he was called at the time) came across some of his grenadiers (of the Consular Guard, which became the Imperial Guard when Napoléon became emperor) were making dinner. As the story goes, they were rubbing onions on their bread, ya know, for the flavor.

Apparently he said, ""Very good, there is nothing better than an onion for marching on the road to glory." Although I'm sure he actually said that in Corsican-accented French.

And there you go, the song of the onion. A French marching song and not the name of this blog.

So did we dodge a bullet or damn, I wish it was called the song of the onion?

What say you?

Here are the lyrics (roughly) in English:

I like onions fried in oil

I like onions because they're good

I like onions fried in oil

I like onions, I like onions

Step by step, comrades, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades

Just one onion fried in oil

Just one onion turns us into lions

Just one onion fried in oil

Just one onion, just one onion

Step by step, comrades, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades

But no onions for the Austrians

No, no onions for all these dogs

But no onions for the Austrians

No, no onions, no onions

Step by step, comrades, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, comrades 

Step by step, step by step, step by step

Let's love onions fried in oil

Let's love onions because they are good

Let's love onions fried in oil

Let's love onions, let's love onions

Step by step, comrades, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, step by step

Step by step, comrades, step by step, comrades

Step by step, step by step, step by step

And what, no love for the Austrians? Well, that's who the French were fighting in Italy, so yeah, no onions for them.

So now you know ...

Author's Note: Yes, a bit of whimsy. Beats going insane trying to come up with something else to write about.

Grass and the Maintenance Thereof

OAFS Photo

For those of you who might have missed it, I'm sure the Badger did not, September is upon us. With September comes meteorological fall, which runs from the 1st of this month to the last day of November. Which makes perfect sense to me.

For in the northeast summer has pretty much run its course. Oh, we'll have a few more hot days before the cold north winds begin to blow, but summer has left the building. The calendar says one thing, the weather says another. Fall has a peculiar, muted light to it, and that's here.

Something else which approaches is the end of the season for mowing the lawn. It's not a task I enjoy, far from it, but it is, so to speak, a "necessary evil." I'm a big believer in quiet fields with native grasses and flowers, then again, so is the ubiquitous tick. Little bastards love that long grass.

So I put my shoulder to the grindstone and cut the damned lawn. Which has taken a bit of a beating this summer. It's crunchy in spots, and brown, while in the shade the stuff grows long and lush.

Our lawn care company, I hired one to please The Missus Herself and so that I would not have to spread chemicals myself, comes out periodically. After their last treatment they left a note saying what they did, they also suggested I water the grass occasionally. My gut reaction was, "Why do that? The crap will grow if I water it. Besides which, that's nature's job. If nature wants me to have a green lawn, then nature better pony up the water to do so."

I mean, water costs money, right? (And why oh why does the government have a monopoly on that resource? Yet another reason to despise all forms of government.)

On that note, I mowed the backyard on Thursday, the North Lawn as I call it. It needed it more than the front (the South Lawn) which I knocked back a bit last week with the weed whacker. One of The Missus Herself's last commands to me on the way to the airport was, "The lawn needs to be mowed."

She wins a prize for stating the obvious, I win the prize for ignoring the obvious.

But to keep her happy, I'll mow the grass. Even though she can't see it, she knows damn it. Somehow she knows.

Life goes on!

Oddly Enough ...

OAFS Photo

At yesterday's pity party (hey, calm down, we've all been there, amiright?) the inimitable Beans had this to say (in part, he usually has a LOT to say. Not that I have any problem with that.) -

Other than wearing a tinfoil hat, or perhaps discovering the listening devices around the house, I have to wonder how Beans is so prescient at times. Maybe's it just because he knows me so well. I'll leave that for another time ...

Anyhoo, see that opening photo, well, it's part of a game system I acquired well before I retired. I wanted to make sure I was well-stocked with things to do before the regular paycheck stopped coming in. (Okay, I still get regular paychecks, they just don't have the growth potential that a paying gig may - or may not - provide. Still, looking ahead I was.)

Now this system, Commands & Colors from GMT Games, I had first heard of from a friend of mine out Chicago way. He used to play it, sang its praises he did. After a bit of research, I decided to lay down some cash and acquire the base game.

Only to discover that there were a number of expansion sets. Being OCD and not wanting to miss anything, I got them all, with one exception which is still in the works out at GMT. I'm on the list to get one using what they call the P500 Pre-Order system. Which works like this - games which are no longer in print can be resurrected if enough people order them. Also, new ideas are proposed which will then be put into work if, again, enough people order them.

It's called P500 because to have a shot, the game has to make the "500 people have pre-ordered it" benchmark. Then the design or reprint goes ahead. Beauty of P500 is that the cost of pre-ordering is a lot less than once the game goes into production. And you don't get charged until the game is ready to go out the door.

Sweet.

Anyhoo. The system makes use of hex maps which can be configured to match the terrain of an actual battle (or you can "roll your own," so to speak). The units are colored wooden blocks upon which stickers are placed. You see, the colors match the nationality of the army and the stickers denote the troop type.

You've got your infantry, your artillery, your cavalry, and leader units. The latter provide benefits to the units they are with. (Hhmm, I wonder if any game has crappy leaders depicted which hurt they units they are with. Now THAT would be realistic as well!)

Now the stickers you have to apply yourself, which may seem like a lot of work, and it is, but it's the sort of thing I rather enjoy. (Jeebers Sarge, what's wrong with you? Nothing, I'm the McClellan sort, great organizer, crappy combat leader. DAMHIK. Okay, The Missus Herself kicks my ass in the few board games she will deign to play with me. She's bloody vicious!)

Here's a photo of the sticker application in progress for the first game module -

OAFS Photo

Note, the X-Acto knife is not for cutting the stickers from the sheet, it's for lifting the stickers cleanly from the sheet. And no, I have not cut myself yet. I am being painstakingly careful, don't want blood on the units now do I?

On the right is the British Army, the brown blocks are for their Portuguese allies, some of which have already had their stickers applied. Those somewhat ominous stacks of blue  blocks looming in the background? Why, that's the French Army waiting for their uniforms and weapons to be issued. (That is, have the stickers applied. Don't ask what goes through my head when I'm doing this, I have a very vivid imagination. And yes, Napoleonic era music may, or may not, be playing in the background. Often enough, I'm the only one who can hear it.)

First module nearly done, have these left to go -

OAFS Photo

That's the Generals, Marshals, & Tacticians module (extra bells and whistles, a couple of new units), then the Prussian, Russian, Austrian, and Spanish armies. One thing I will note, is that I was sore disappointed that there were no Scots Highland units in any of those boxes. Nope, none. Nor were there any King's German Legion.

Those are coming in that P500 module I mentioned above.

Come on GMT, I'm waiting to hear the skirl of the pipes!

So yes Beans, I have lots to keep me busy.

 En avant!

6,852 Miles, Give or Take

Source

Man.

That's a long ways away.

I lived that "far away" from my family for a couple of years. Then I started my own family.

I went overseas with the clothing the Air Force issued me, a couple of civilian outfits (think jeans and t-shirts) and not much else. I came back to New England with a wife and a son.

A long time ago.

Yeah, feeling a bit maudlin today.

Late last night I got a text message, "Boarded, flight is on time."

I slept through that message as it was in the wee hours.

When I got up to get ready for my annual physical, I saw the message. Went to Flight Aware to check on The Missus Herself's flight, she and her two sisters were well out over the Pacific with quite a long way to fly.

The day passed, I wondered how she was doing. Then in the afternoon I got another text. 'Landed. Thank you for this. Love you."

Damn it. I wasn't going to let it bother me, but I don't like being separated from her for very long. Sure, with the kids spread all over hell and gone, we've spent a couple of weeks apart here and there. But this feels different.

This feels like the first few months of our marriage. Me on Okinawa, her in Korea.

Yeah, hated it.

I know that two months ain't that long.

But right now it feels pretty damn long.

I need to go see some grandkids or something.

Damn.

It gets lonely at night.

I'll get through this.

Somehow, probably with a little help from my friends.

Breakfast anyone?

Now I get this song. I think I did before, but now I really do.

Be back tomorrow, hopefully in a better mood.

Hat tip to Scott R.

Sorry, I'm a squirrel today.

"First time?"

You're Kidding, Right?

Source

So here I am, in effect a bachelor for two months. Yup, you read that correctly, two months. The Missus Herself went to Korea with two of her Stateside sisters (she has three sisters who live in the US, one in Korea, as are her two brothers).

The last time she was home was 1997 when her Father passed away. She did get there in time to be with him as he passed to the other side. So her last trip was sad, to say the least.

For the math-challenged, that's twenty eight years ago. Almost three decades since she last visited her homeland. That's a long time.

Two of her sisters (twins by the way) and her had planned this for quite some time, it was just waiting for the timing (and the finances) to all fall into place. Now is that time.

She's been gone three days and I'm already going batshit crazy. Well, not really, except at night, as I have a number of projects to occupy my daylight hours. (Yes, yes, lawn, I'll get to you soon, cutting grass on Labor Day wasn't in the cards.)

But that's not the real story here. No, that story begins the night before her flight out to Las Vegas. (Wait, you said she was going to Korea. Well, she is, but one of the twins lives in Vegas, the other lives in Arizona, "only" 300 miles away. They're all meeting in Vegas before boarding a non-stop to Inchon. Where their oldest sister lives.)

Now the flight schedule was arranged by our youngest, LUSH, who was a Naval Flight Officer (NFO) in her youth. Her husband Big Time, a Naval Aviator, also spent some time as his first operational squadron's scheduling officer, from whence he got his callsign due to his propensity to get pissed off  "big time" every time someone requested a change to the flying schedule.

Anyhoo.

LUSH arranged the trip, which she is pretty good at, she knows where to find the cheapest deals and the best routes. Even though some cheap flights occur at the butt crack of dawn.

No, the real butt crack of dawn not my "Dear Lord you want me to get up at 8 AM?" butt crack of dawn. No, her version of that is "the sun ain't up yet but should be in an hour or so."

Yeah, that butt crack of dawn.

So as fortune would have it, The Missus Herself's flight to Vegas was set to depart at 0600 on a Saturday. Yup, a Saturday. Thank God I'm retired or I might have suggested an Uber (after which I would no doubt be permanently a bachelor!)

So I got up early on Friday so as to give me the unlikely possibility of being able to go to bed relatively early Friday night.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha ...

Yeah, like that ever works.

'Lo and behold, I was actually quite tired at 2200 hours Friday evening, so I went to bed. I actually fell asleep quickly, something which almost never happens. I slept deep, I slept nicely, I ...

Waking up I thought to myself, "Heck, that wasn't half bad, hopefully it's close to time to get up and take Mama to the aeroporto."

Nope, Non, Nein, Nyet, Iye, Anyo, and not just no, but Hell No.

My eyes glanced at my watch, 2330. I'd been fast asleep for an hour and a half.

Damn.

Mind you, I had the alarm set for 0300 in order to get up and wake up (cold water to the face, coffee to the belly, and a brisk walk on the deck in the chill wee hours usually does the trick). So I did my bizness and went back to bed, thinking "I can sleep another three and a half hours ..."

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha ...

Yeah, no.

Tossed and turned for a bit and a little after midnight I hear a "ping" from my phone indicating that a text message has arrived. Now in the middle of the night it's never good news, unless it's LUSH who sometimes forgets that Little Rhody is three hours AHEAD of California. During her last visit she looked at the clock, saw it was noon and remarked, "Damn, it's already three o'clock back home." That got her odd looks from everyone else in the kitchen.

Anyhoo.

I rolled over, grabbed my phone and noted, "Yup, I wonder what LUSH wants ..."

Shee-it.

The Missus Herself's flight was delayed.

By two hours and forty five minutes!

No longer would she be wheels up at 0600, nope, now it's 0845.

Looking at my watch, I noted that it was now 0030. Hhmm, so I realized that even though I was wide awake in the middle of the night, I could reset my alarm to 0500 and thereby gain three hours of sleep ...

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha ...

Not quite. Though I did get back to sleep (probably around one AM) I awakened again at 0230, then again at 0330, and once more (fire for effect) at 0430, at which point I said "fire truck it" and got up.

To discover that The Missus Herself was already up, she had slept maybe two hours before getting up and not being able to go back to sleep decided to get up. Dang, she's going to have a long couple of days! (Fortunately her flight to Inchon is scheduled to leave at nearly midnight Monday night.) And, unlike me, she can actually sleep on a long flight. A skill I've always admired. I've done it exactly once, on a flight from Tokyo to Honolulu, though I actually passed out as I'd spent the hours prior to boarding drinking beer with a bunch of Marines due to the largess of their Gunnery Sergeant. (Never forget you for that Gunny, thanks! No, really.)

Anyhoo.

Another of my failures is that I don't "nap." I sleep, I go to bed, then no less than five hours later I awaken. Not really napping if it lasts most of the day.

We got the airport, I got home, she got to Vegas and I trust that as you read this, The Missus Herself will be out over the Pacific on her way to the Land of the Morning Calm.

Alrighty then ...

Now what do I do for the next fifty eight days? (That's rhetorical by the way, no suggestions please ...)

Should be an interesting couple of months.

I hope I survive the lack of my wife's civilizing influence. (The Nuke is deathly afraid that I'll go feral, which, knowing me, is always a possibility!)

I do foresee one or two trips to New Hampshire and a long sojourn in Maryland.

Being retired seems to be a lot of work at times.

(Nah it isn't, just kidding.)

Well...Rats

 Well, Campers, welcome to September and while the Powers that be decree that Summer will continue until September 22, it has been determined by our resident experts in Rhode Island, California and Florida that Summer ends on the last day in August.

Now being somewhat of a mathematician myself, I believe that if the temperature is in the high 90's then we are still in summer.  And that seems to be the case, at least down here in Sunny Texas. Under those circumstances, summer here can cause Santa to deliver presents in a swim suit. I'm not sure what he wears in the frozen tundra of Rhode Island.

But, since it is Monday and my laptop is all warmed up, it's time to get on with the show.

As you regular readers (all 5 of you) remember, last week I had mentioned that our realtor had said he'd received an indication that an offer on our house was in the works.

Very exciting.

A family from Colorado was planning to move to Texas.  They had horses and kids and were looking for a bit more land.  Since we have a few more acres than they (30.9 > 3) and had horses (which we would be willing to convey) and a barn,  we thought this might be a good match.  

 Yes, Beans, in addition to our house,  the offer includes a three bedroom house and two short term, two bedroom rental cottages for tourists are included in the offer.  So, they asked if we'd accept a contingency offer.  We'd asked our realtor about that.  He said they were usually given for 60 days to allow the buyer to sell their house and arrange movers and all the other "stuff" that moving entails.

Sounded reasonable to us and in fact we started looking in College Stations at a few houses.  Found one we REALLY liked and were putting together a contingency offer on it. (Contingent on the selling of our house). 

Unfortunately (you knew that something like this was going to happen dincha?), when the Coloradians presented their offer, the contingency offer was set to expire Dec 31.  That was disappointing but maybe.

However, reading further in the offer...

The offer they made was 20% under asking price.  In dollars, it was a quarter million under.

I wish I had planned ahead before I read that offer and come to an agreement with NASA to strap a satellite to my backside and pay me to take it into orbit.  I'd be rich! 

YGBSM!

Oh and meanwhile, the house we REALLY liked in College Station was sold.  

 

So, back to square one. 

Lesson learned, we're not going to look for a house until this one is under contract with a closing date established and paperwork signed.

AND...some money changing hands!  

Yeah, I'm just a tiny bit irked!  Ahhh...well, no sense pushing the blood pressure off the top of the scale.  Better luck next time!

 And to answer Beans question.  St Joseph is buried right in front of the firepit.

 

Peace out, y'all!

juvat