|
Posted on 07/01/2010 3:58:14 AM PDT by JustAmy
|
Thank you Mr.Mayor for today’s blessed message!
Francis Chan, in his book Crazy Love, tells of a family with an interesting Christmas tradition. On Christmas morning, the Robynson family doesn’t focus on opening presents under the Christmas tree. Instead, they make pancakes and coffee, and serve the breakfast to the homeless. This is a small but creative way to show God’s love and generosity to the poor.
God expected this kind of generosity from His people. In Deuteronomy 15, Moses emphasized the reality of poverty and how the more affluent must deal with it. They were warned of four dangers:
A hard heart, ignoring the needs of the poor (v.7).
A closed hand, withholding what the poor lacked (v.7).
An evil thought, hesitating or refusing to loan money to the poor because the year of canceling debts was nearing (v.9).
A grudging spirit, a reluctance to satisfy the needs of the poor among them (v.10). Not only were they warned about selfishness, but more important, they were encouraged to be spontaneously generous (vv.8,10,11).
Among God’s people, there must always be a spirit of generosity toward the poor. Let’s open our hearts and our hands.
Good Morning All
Now up and running again, (second hard drive in a week!)
Here’s breakfast (Still doing my breakfasts from famous restaurants, so dig in and enjoy!!!
__________________________________
From Brennan’s in New Orleans
__________________________________
BREAKFAST
Table d’hôte Breakfast
APPETIZERS
SOUTHERN BAKED APPLE WITH DOUBLE CREAM
STRAWBERRIES WITH DOUBLE CREAM
CREOLE ONION SOUP
OYSTER SOUP BRENNAN
NEW ORLEANS TURTLE SOUP
MAUDE’S SEAFOOD OKRA GUMBO
ENTREES
EGGS SARDOU
Poached eggs on artichoke bottoms nestled in a bed of creamed spinach and covered with Hollandaise sauce Suggested Wine - Fume Blanc
EGGS BAYOU LAFOURCHE
Poached eggs atop Andouille Cajun sausage and Holland rusks. Topped with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Gewurztraminer
EGGS BENEDICT
A traditional dish of poached eggs atop Holland rusks and Canadian bacon, Topped with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Byron Chardonnay
EGGS ST. CHARLES
Poached eggs atop delicately fried trout with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Fume Blanc
EGGS HUSSARDE
(A Brennan’s Original) One of the dishes that put “Breakfast at Brennan’s” on the map. Poached eggs atop Holland rusks, Canadian bacon and Marchand de Vin sauce. Topped with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Sauvignon Blanc
OYSTERS BENEDICT
Fresh Gulf oysters fried to perfection and served on Canadian bacon with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Gewurztraminer
SHRIMP SARDOU
Deliciously spicy fried shrimp atop sliced artichoke bottoms nestled in a bed of creamed spinach and covered with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Sauvignon Blanc
EGGS ELLEN
Grilled filet of salmon topped with poached eggs and Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Gewurztraminer
EGGS OWEN
We start with a fine beef hash, then add poached eggs and top with Marchand de Vin sauce. Suggested Wine - Piesporter
EGGS SHANNON
Poached eggs atop fried trout, served in a bed of creamed spinach and topped with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Sonoma Cutrer Chardonnay
EGGS PORTUGUESE
Flaky pastry shells filled with freshly chopped tomatoes sautéed in butter with parsley and shallots. Topped with poached eggs and covered with Hollandaise sauce. Suggested Wine - Robert Mondavi Chardonnay
EGGS NOUVELLE ORLÉANS
Poached eggs served on a bed of lump crabmeat topped with a brandy-cream sauce. Suggested Wine - Sauvignon Blanc
DESSERTS
BANANAS FOSTER
A Brennan Creation and now World-Famous. Bananas sautéed in butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and banana liqueur, then flamed in rum. Served over vanilla ice cream. Scandalously Delicious!
CREPES FITZGERALD
A Brennan Creation. Crepes filled with a delicate filling of cream cheese and sour cream served with a topping of strawberries flamed in Maraschino. Scrumptious!
CLASSIC KEY LIME PIE
Perfectly tart and sweet at the same time, topped with fresh whipped cream
CREOLE CHOCOLATE SUICIDE CAKE
A Chocoholic’s Fantasy
LOUISIANA CHOCOLATE PECAN PIE
A chocolate twist to this traditional pie.
What a wonderful message this morning, Rus! Thank you!
Happy Campaigning!!
Good Morning! Good to see you again. Glad your computer is working again!
I think I will have the (EGGS BENEDICT)
A traditional dish of poached eggs atop Holland rusks and Canadian bacon, Topped with Hollandaise sauce.
Orange juice and coffee, please! No wine this morning...LOL! Wonder what Brennan’s in New Orleans would charge me for this...just wondering!!
Your breakfast is on the table by the window, and Gaston will be your server.
As for the price at Brennan’s you can bet its hefty!
(At least here, the food is only as expensive as the number of calories you actually pick up around here!)
EGGS SARDOU
The fixed-price menu for breakfast at Brennan’s New Orleans starts at $36 for 3 courses. Isn’t it wonderful to have such a handsome (and generous) escort this morning?
Thank you, Sir Johnn!
I am on my way, Sir Johnn! Shhhhh~~~~won’t tell a soul!!
Beautiful!!!
OK, big guy! I thought we were going to an elegante place and were going to get ‘gussied up’. One question: “Do we have to wear shoes?”
““Do we have to wear shoes?””
What we’ll wear are tennis shoes with no soles on them, so you look to have shoes, but you can pad around barefoot and not have to deal with those snooty people who have a show fixation they want to impose on us free-minded folks.
shoe, not show
California is clearly going under!
Check out the mess in Oakland (I used to live there and this is going to get out of hand, FAST!)
Oakland’s police chief is making some dire claims about what his force will and will not respond to if layoffs go as planned.
Chief Anthony Batts listed exactly 44 situations that his officers will no longer respond to and they include grand theft, burglary, car wrecks, identity theft and vandalism. He says if you live and Oakland and one of the above happens to you, you need to let police know on-line.
Here’s a partial list:
• Burglary (Potential personal violence in home)
• Theft (Potential personal violence)
• embezzlement
• grand theft (Potential personal violence)
• grand theft: dog
• identity theft
• false information to peace officer
• required to register as sex or arson offender
• dump waste or offensive matter
• discard appliance with lock
• loud music
• possess forged notes
• pass fictitious check
• obtain money by false voucher
• fraudulent use of access cards
• stolen license plate
• embezzlement by an employee (over $ 400)
• extortion (Potential personal violence)
• attempted extortion (Potential personal violence)
• false personification of other
• injure telephone/ power line
• interfere with power line
• unauthorized cable tv connection
• vandalism (Potential personal violence)
• administer/expose poison to another (Potential personal violence)
Is that for real? I have also heard the same thing about NYC....who is also broke. Not good.
Good morning, Jaycee! That is such a lovely graphic! Thank you! Hope you are feeling well today!!
DOG LOVERS:
I dont care if it is true or not(meaning I didn’t check w/Snopes) .. it is a good read.
We like doggies here at Amy’s for the most part. It is long but I guarantee you it is worth the read/time. d
@@@
They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was clean, and the people really friendly.
I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to.
And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn’t really think he’d need all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn’t going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and “heel,” and he’d follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he’d look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I’d ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.
This just wasn’t going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.
The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the “damn dog probably hid it on me.”
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home. But then I called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that. Come here and I’ll give you a treat.” Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe “glared” is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.
Well, that’s not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too.
“Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
“To Whoever Gets My Dog:
“Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner.
“I’m not even happy writing it. If you’re reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it’s like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have to go to try to make it right.
“So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
“First, he loves tennis balls... the more the merrier.
“Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hordes them.
“He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet.
“Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after it, so be careful - really don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
“Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.” He knows hand signals: “back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking water off, and “paw” for a high-five. He does “down” when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.
“I trained Reggie with small food treats.
“Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.
“Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening.
“Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
“He’s up on his shots.
“Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet.
“Good luck getting him in the car - I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
“Finally, give him some time.
“I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
“Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you....
“His name’s not Reggie.
“I don’t know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I’d never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything’s fine. But if someone else is reading it, well... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It’ll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change in his demeanor if he’s been giving you problems.
“His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive.
“Again, if you’re reading this and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call the shelter... in the “event”... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.
“Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I’m just writing it for my dog. I couldn’t imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.
“And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.
“That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
“All right, that’s enough.
“I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter.
“I don’t think I’ll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
“Good luck with Tank.
“Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.”
Thank you, Paul Mallory
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.
The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. “C’mere boy.”
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months.
“Tank,” I whispered. His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek. “So whatdaya say we play some ball.” His ears perked again.
“Yeah Ball. You like that Ball “
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came back......he had three tennis balls in his mouth.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
