BoldGrace

What I was Listening to in 1974

Peace
Geo

Christmas Tequila Cookies

•     1 cup of dark brown sugar
•     1 cup (2 sticks) butter
•     1 cup of granulated sugar
•     4 large eggs
•     2 cups of dried fruit, such as dried cranberries or raisins
•     1 tsp baking soda
•     1 tsp salt
•     1 tsp fresh lemon juice
•     1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans
•     2 cups all-purpose flour
•     1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila (silver or gold, as desired)

Sample the Cuervo to check quality.

Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.

Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it’s best to make sure the Cuervo is still OK, try another cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.  Pick the frigging fruit off floor.

Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt, or something.  Check the Jose Cuervo.

Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.  Don’t forget to beat off the turner.

Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

From our friend Brian @ www.thebeautifulheresy.com/2008/12/christmas-cookie-recipe.html

Every year at Christmas my family and I gather around a beautiful Blue Spruce Tree that stands tall beside my Grandma’s bedroom window. It shines bright with the colors of the Christmas lights and we all hold hands and sing It Is Well With My Soul in honor of my Grandfather. My Dad always lead us into the song. I don’t know who will lead us this year and this year will be a little more difficult for as we sing in honor of Grandpa we will also sing for Dad as well. I am not sure the words will come out well, but we will sing with every ounce of love and strength we have.

My Uncle Doug sent me the you tube video of the story behind the song. It is a story of strength which inspires me to stay strong during this time of year and focus on those that have gone before us. As we hold hands they are in each others arms looking at all of us knowing that they are leading us through our journies one by one and it is well with my soul.

Love you Dad

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYP–c2LTfg

Lisa Wrote: Do you remember Uncle Joe saying, I’ve been crazy all my life but its kept me from going insane!!

Love this song!!

When we allow others to be their true self the world is the Beneficiary.

Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!!

Peace
Geo

My cousin gave me a great book to read by David Eagleman. It is titled SUM, Forty Tales from the Afterlives. I am really excited about this book because it gives a different insite to what, who and why we are. I have always felt a connection to this kind of thinking and I want to share with you one of the tales that had me so enchanted. It is titled METAMORPHISIS.

There are three deaths. The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.

So you wait in this lobby until the third death. There are long tables with coffe, tea, and cookies; you can help yourself. There are people here from all around the world, and with a little effort you can strike up convivial small talk. Just be aware that your conversations may be interrupted at any moment by the Callers, who broadcast your new friend’s name to indicate that there will never again be another remembrance of him by anyone on the Earth. Your friend slumps, face like a shattered and reglued plate, saddened even though the Callers tell him kindly that he’s off to a better place. No one knows where that better place is or what it offers, because no one exiting through that door has returned to tell us. Tragically, many people leave just as their loved ones arrive, since the loved ones were the only ones doing the remembering. We all wag our heads at that typical timing.

The whole place looks like an infinite airport waiting area. There are many famous people from the history books here. If you get bored, you can strike out in any given direction, past aisles and aisles of seats. After many days of walking, you’ll start to notice that people look different, and you’ll hear the tones of foreign languages. People congregate among their own kind, and one sees the spontaneous emergence of territories that mirror the pattern on the surface of the planet; With the exception of the oceans, you’re traversing a map of the Earth. There are no time zones here. No one sleeps, even though they mostly wish they could. The place is evenly lit by fluorescent lights.

Not everyone is sad when the Callers enter the room and shout out the next list of names. On the contrary, some people beg and plead, prostrating themselves at the Callers’ feet. These are generally the folks who have been here a long time, too long, especially those who are remembered for unfair reasons. For example, take the farmer over there, who drowned in a small river two hundred years ago. Now his farm is the site of a small college, and the tour guides each week tell his story. So he’s stuck and he’s miserable. The more his story is told, the more the details drift. He is utterly alienated from his name; it is no longer identical with him but continues to bind. The cheerless woman across the way is praised as a saint, even though the roads in her heart were complicated. The fray-haired man at the vending machine was lionized as a war hero, then demonized as a warlord, and finally canonized as a necessary firebrand between two moments in history. He waits with aching heart for his statues to fall. And that is the curse of this room: since we live in the heads of those who rememeber us, we lose control of our lives and become who they want us to be.

The memories I have will eventually die with me. I believe that to be true. So does that mean the spirit of those who live inside of my memories can’t move forward into Paradise until I die?? It makes me wonder if I am holding people back by being soo sad about their deaths all the time. Am I holding my Father back? I want him to move forward towards paradise…so drink a cold one for me Dad!  LOL