Good Morning Digital Neighbors! Happy Tuesday ADD Irregulars, Phamily & Refugees! Hello again Early Birds & Later Dayers, Dawn Patrol & Day Walkers, Conversants Lurkers, Supporters, Members and Visitors to the Rubin Report, Phetasy or my own hole in the wall - @-Padre's. Where evert you come across this post, I hope the day unfolding for you is a good one.
Old Kings Lake
When we moved up to Elsberry in 1970 to the "farm" (It was really more of clubhouse with some acreage that was farmed for my grandparents.) my parents built their retirement home just up from the lake at Apex Acres. In 1973 that house was lost to the flood, but in those three years living at the lake there was so much fun at the "farm."
MUD!
The lake was sanded in front of the house, but the bottom was really this dark rich Mississippi mud. Throwing it, smearing it, making mud pies, mud balls and trying to make mud castles were all part of the joys of playing with mud. The comforting feeling of it between your toes, the way it remained on your body after smearing it on your chest or in your hair is so memorable. There was this very earthy, slightly fishy smell to the mud that made the lake mud standout from the mud outside the lake.
For all of Mom's varied issues, letting boys be boys was all part of her freedom that she did well. She wasn't too happy when we had mud fights, but boys will eventually throw something at each other, have swords fights with sticks or do something that result in some sort of accident or injury. As long as it didn't require an emergency room visit, all was good. We were only at the lake for three years, but playing near it, swimming in it, ice skating & sledding in the winter were all part of its charm. But few things compared to the goodness of mud as young boy of only 4. Happy Tuesday Digital Neighbors!
MUD
Glorious mud
Wonderful mud
Happiness is a big Puddles of mud
Mud on my head
Mud to my toes
Mud in my ears
Mud up my nose
Happiness is a big puddle of mud
Wonderful mud
Glorious mud
Author: Grandmommy-Frances
Muddy boys found on Brave - The CrumbBums
Today marks the three hundred and thirtieth birthday of the Frenchman François-Marie Arouet, better known by his nom de plume, Voltaire (1694-1778).
Born into a bourgeois family during the reign of Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (r. 1643-1715), Voltaire suffered tragedy at a young age when his mother died. Never close with his father or brother, Voltaire exhibited a rebellious attitude toward authority from his youth. His brilliant mind was fostered in the care of the Society of Jesus, who introduced him to the joys of literature and theater. Despite his later criticisms against the Church, Voltaire, throughout his life, fondly recalled his dedicated Jesuit teachers.
Although he spent time as a civil servant in the French embassy to the Hague, Voltaire’s main love was writing—an endeavor where he excelled in various genres, including poetry, which led to his appointment as the royal court poet for King Louis XV. Widely recognized as one of the greatest French writers, and even hyperbolically referred to by ...
Padre - Tom Miller invites you to a Coffee Talk, Speakeasies, Schmoozes, Tea Times, Afterhours and other gatherings.
https://teams.live.com/meet/93792382189049?p=DiBHsYfuECPgDrG7vO
2026 Coffee Talk with the ADD Irregulars
Thursday, January 1, 2026
6:00 AM - 8:00 AM (CST)
Occurs every day starting 1/1 until 12/31/2027
Coffee Talk - Daily beginning at 6:00 AM Central Time Zone - USA
White Pilled Wednesday - A break from the heaviness of news and current events to focus upon things more personal & positive for the first hour of Coffee Talk.
Afternoon Chats - Most Tuesday, Friday & Sundays 2:00 PM Central
Other chats as posted in the community.
XIII
The Proud Minister
One day there came into the Garden a man in torn clothes badly bruised and cut, who said to the Lover, “In the name of the Beloved I demand your help.”
So the Lover and the Disciple let him in and dressed his wounds and prepared the best of the vegetables from the Garden for him to eat. When his wounds had been dressed and he had eaten and rested the Lover asked him how he had fallen into this plight, to which the man replied, “I was Minister of the Beloved in a city near this place, where I preached His gospel and expounded His doctrine to the people. I pointed out to them how their sins had made them wholly hateful to the Beloved and how therefore they were utterly beyond the range of His love and He would condemn them to eternal torments, whereon some fell into despair and wept bitterly but many were angry. One day the magistrates called me before them and begged me to leave the city and preach elsewhere for they said I had made many people so angry and desperate that they feared there might be a riot and they might not be able to protect me but that I might suffer some injury. I, however, very zealous for the Beloved and believing that the magistrates only feared that their own sins might be proclaimed, preached the more vehemently, denounced the magistrates and made it abundantly clear that the whole wicked city was foredoomed to eternal punishment by the just provision of the Beloved. Whereon a mob, stirred up no doubt by the corrupt and venal magistrates, fell upon me with sticks and stones, nearly killing me and driving me out of the city in the state in which I came to you.”
“My friend,” said the Lover, “this was not a good deed of yours, for besides denying the unfathomable compassion of the Beloved, you have by your obstinacy caused these people to commit a grievous sin, and this cannot be pleasing to the Beloved, that through you who profess to be His minister the people should become worse. Surely you remember that He Himself said, ‘If they persecute you in one city flee to another.’”
Therefore the man was very angry, and cursing the Lover, said, “I see that I have had a very false report of you and I do not believe that you are a servant of the Beloved at all. When I came to you so injured for the Beloved’s sake you set before me only herbs and fruits although the garden is full of birds which you could have killed to make me a worthy meal. I shall proclaim everywhere that you are no true servant of the Beloved but a mere falterer who dares not suffer in the cause of the Beloved. Be sure that you are foreordained to eternal torments who suffer nothing here.”
For the man was so blinded by his own pride that he could not perceive the scars on the hands and feet and the brows of the Lover nor how the cloth beneath the armpits of his tunic was dyed with a red dye. So he went out of the Garden cursing and shouting.
But the Lover looked sad and said, “A man like this does much harm to the cause of the Beloved, for by thus speaking falsely about the Beloved he may bring men to fear Him but none to love Him, and by love alone can any man approach the Beloved.”
