Scout Moves

I’ve been reading through all the grousing posts my Facebook friends have been writing about the Chick-fil-A gay marriage flap, and I’ve resisted the urge to comment on either side. My conservative friends are having a fit to support the chicken joint, and my liberal friends are having a fit protesting it. Both sides feel morally compelled and indignant. I feel compelled just to speak my piece about this whole thing. So… I support the cause of marriage equality. I believe gay couples should be granted the right to be married by their individual states. Allowing gay marriage doesn’t weaken the institution as we know it these days—heterosexual couples have done a pretty good job of that on our own. And it doesn't threaten a conservative Christian's understanding of a God-based covenant any more than the marriage of atheists or Hindus or Buddhists does. I also support the cause of free speech, and if a guy who owns a national chain of fast-food restaurants wants to say pub

While I was walking Baxter along the road beside the park, an old man in a truck pulled up and hung an elbow out the window: Old man: “I’ll give you a million dollars for that dog.” Me: “I love my dog. He’s not for sale.” Old man: “Nobody ever takes me up on my offer. Ba ha ha.” I imagine that man amuses himself by driving all over town and throwing out this line to anyone with a dog, and no one ever bites because 1) he isn’t serious and 2) they love their dogs and don’t care to part with them. Later in the evening, I relayed this exchange at home, and Husband’s eyes opened wide. “I assume you’d sell the dog for a real offer of $1 million,” he said. “Of course, not,” says I. “You don’t sell your family members, no matter how high the offer.” But he’s not family, he’s a dog, and you can always get another dog just like him for a few hundred dollars, he tried to explain. But that’s not how I see it. I suppose if I were desperately poor and needed cash for food and shelter, I’d

I took the dog out for a little romp in the yard—he likes to chase a particular squeaky toy and roll around in the grass from time to time. We exited the house through the garage door and rounded the corner toward the front yard when I spotted a small black cat darting east along the mulch line. I followed the little guy’s trail down the sidewalk and brick steps, assuming Baxter would be right behind me or even about to dash ahead to catch the intruder animal. He does like to chase cats, that dog of mine. But when I turned to locate the dog, I saw him well behind me, nose to the ground, tracking the cat that he never saw but could clearly smell. I called Baxter to follow me, but he was intent on locating the source of the unusual scent and didn’t appear to hear me, or wasn’t interested in my call, more likely. Emily spotted the cat from a basement window and went out the east door to get a closer look, which only made the cat make a quick 180 and head back west, right past me and

I’m sticking with this low-carb eating business, which can be translated as high-protein and fat, because it works, for me. As a general rule, I eat a carb/protein balance that allows me to lose two pounds a week, although sometimes, for unknown reasons, I have a zero loss week. If this coming week is typical, by next Saturday I will have lost 20 pounds with plenty more to go. Yay for me. I used to avoid the bathroom scale—seriously, the only reason it wasn’t caked in dust was because Husband would occasional step onto it. But now the scale isn’t a source of dread, it’s a source of encouragement. I can see results nearly every day, and that’s enough to keep me going. In fact, I’ve reached the stage where I recoil at even the sight of a carb and am not tempted by them at all. You’ve got cake, you say, and maybe I’d like a lovely slice with an icing flower? Crispy potatoes, perhaps? How about a slice of wood-fired organic pizza made by the funky guy at the farm market? Away with you

I’m trying to understand the hoopla over the uniforms to be worn by the US Olympic team. It's come out that their clothes are made in China, and now people are pitching a fit. It’s an outrage! Inexcusable! Burn them! (the clothes, not the people) Politicians from both parties are delivering melodramatic speeches calling for drastic measures. Here’s what I don’t get—the athletes represent their country as ambassadors of sorts, and don’t most of us wear clothes made in China or Sri Lanka or Bangladesh? The shirt I’m wearing as I type was made in India, my shoes were made in Brazil, and my pants were made in…that’s right…China. I’m not a traitor to my country, and I haven’t abandoned the cause of the American labor force. I’m a typical American, buying clothes at typical stores at average prices, and finding American-made clothing is close to impossible. I’m old enough to recall the days when most clothes were made in America—remember the Look for the Union Label commercials? An

For a few days now, I have had a hankering for lobster because I found a recipe that seemed too good to pass up. Lobster, corn, lemon, butter, grilling. See what I mean? I finally followed through last night to great success. With one exception, Bon Appetit , I only buy magazines occasionally and only on my iPad—and usually when I’m traveling. At home with no travel plans, I have discovered that Martha Stewart Living for the iPad is one kick-ass magazine. I never bothered with it in paper form because I find Martha Stewart to be a bit too anal, but the iPad version offers a sensory surprise with every swipe of the screen. It moves and plays music and is embedded with links. Even if I never make or do a single thing in an issue, I’ll download it just for the moment-by-moment amusement it provides. In the latest issue, I found a recipe for grilled lobster and corn on the cob and knew I had to make it. I bought two lobsters at my local grocery store, which has them shipped in—t

"Writing of the Declaration of Independence" Jean Leon Gerome Ferris It's the Fourth of July in America, the day we celebrate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776. "When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation," wrote Thomas Jefferson in his opening statement. I am as proud of this commemorative day as any American, but I question the salutes I've been reading as posted by some Facebook friends. We are so quick, we heavy handed and heavy footed patriots, to credit our military at any opportunity. Support our troops! Of course, I do support our troops, and I recognize t