Whistling Badger Blog

(by request) Disclaimer I mostly cook by the TLAR (That Looks About Right) method, so this is nothing like an actual recipe, and might take some experimentation. I know, because every time I go in the kitchen, it's an experiment. Preparations Wake up late, with a whole Saturday morning ahead of you. Put on water for tea (a good strong Assam/Irish breakfast type, of course). While chopping up your apples (see below), preheat a griddle on medium low. Rub some butter on it--the more the better, in my experience. I'm sure there's a limit to how much butter is a good thing, but I haven't reached it yet. Pancakes Dry ingredients: 3 or 4 handfuls whole wheat flour A teaspoon or so double acting baking powder A little less baking soda A good, hefty tablespoon or two of powdered buttermilk (or you can use real buttermilk in place of milk, below; or you can throw in a spoonful of plain yogurt or sour cream) 3 or 4 dashes of salt A couple table spoons of brown sugar You can a...

We cannot WAIT to get back up in the mountains this summer!

If you are here for the pre-release, welcome! Check out the "listen to samples" link above, then get thee back to facebook and put your name on the list! If you are here for some other reason (maybe something really crazy, such as to read my blog), thanks for stopping by, and don't worry--you'll get your chance to buy a CD when it is actually ready to release. In the meantime, yes, you too can listen to samples. Lucky you! Thanks! T

This song really, really says it. Sometimes, faith means getting past the whining, getting past begging for explanations, when the bad stuff happens to you. Why shouldn't it? Isn't it sort of arrogant to see it happen to others, and then be shaken when the crap of a fallen world splatters onto you, too? He never promised things wouldn't ever be uncomfortable, awful, painful, unfair. He promised to get us through it. He promised to be with us in it. He promised to bring something good out of it. And believe me, he is faithful to keep those promises, if we will only trust him. After all, he beat death. Everything else is just a matter of time...

There a bumper sticker often seen here in Lander, usually on gun-rack adorned pick up trucks. It says, "I'm pro-choice. I choose to hunt, fish, trap, eat meat, and wear fur." It's a fairly universal feeling around here, even among those who consider themselves liberal. This is Wyoming, after all. When it comes to abortion, the real decision about whether to take the pro-choice stand is a bit more serious. Both sides of the issue believe strongly, and argue vigorously, that lives and basic freedoms are at stake. The other day, a friend's Facebook picture showed an intelligent young lady at a pro-choice rally. She was wearing a shirt that said, "I trust women. Do you?" That sounds wonderful. But should trust be the main issue in this or any other legal issue? If it were, we could get rid of so many annoying and expensive constraints: speed limits ("I trust drivers. Do you?"), government oversight of our financial institutions (...

The other day, a hospital aid saw me reading a book on Christian spirituality, and asked me if I prayed to my angels. I sort of laughed and said, no, I just pray to God and let him sort out the details. It's so much simpler that way. I take a fairly utilitarian view of angels. The Bible says they are ministering spirits, sent to take care of the saved. The word itself simply means "messenger," with no particularly spiritual connotation. Other than a small number of rather enigmatic, extremely intriguing mentions, not much else is said about them in the Bible. So, as usual, I am fine not trying to articulate what God has chosen to leave a mystery. But if you change that word "angels" back to the word "messengers," you start to see them everywhere--God speaks to us in many ways, after all--and they really aren't that mysterious or fascinating anymore. Or are they? ***Warning: Long, overly-detailed ramble follows. But stay with me, if...

While waiting with my beloved wife to endure her latest painful round of tests the other day, it occurred to me with great force: I think I know why the light died when Jesus was on the cross, why the earth shook. For the past month, I have sat by watching and listening as my wife suffers through a truly horrifying series of painful illnesses, and the sometimes even more painful treatments for them. I have listened to her cry out in pain, seen her experience all the indignities common to hospitals, listened to her beg for relief when there was no more relief to give. And I have been here, offering support and encouragement, but there has been nothing I can do to stop it. Almost three weeks ago, I held my son in my arms and watched him die. It took almost three hours. I gave him my love, of course, but when it came to the dying, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I just had to watch. Around two thousand years ago, God watched his son die a horrific death. It took...