Immeasurably More

When I was a teenager, my parents gave me a birthday card which had a drawing of a messy pink bedroom and the message "Living with you, we understand why hurricanes are named after girls."  I would like to claim that this was an unprovoked act of parental humor, but no one who has seen my bedroom then or since would believe it.  Tidiness is not among my natural gifts. When I packed to leave England, I have 49 parcels; 47 were shipped and 2 were taken on the plane with me to Tulsa.  Of those 47 shipped parcels, half a dozen found their way into my former bedroom, forcing me to negotiate a path to the closet so I could hang up my coat.  "Ah... the good old days." I thought as I was forced to find floor space for my duffle since my guitar case was already on the bed. I had arrived at my parents house with a list of things I wanted out of those 47 boxes and suitcases: kitchen scale, books, stationary, contact lenses, summer clothes and high heeled shoes, and, of co...

Posted from the house I grew up in (but it's a different color now). I'm thinking about buying a cow.  A Jersey or Guernsey.  Something with high fat content milk.  My mom says I can't keep it here, so I'll have to bring it back to Tulsa with me. I know you're thinking it, but are too polite to ask.  For a woman who struggles with the care of dogs and cockatiels,  why would I want to buy a cow?  Well, it all started with scones.  Scones should have clotted cream.  Clotted cream comes from cream.  Cream comes from milk.  Milk comes from cows.  It's just logical. "Surely", you are thinking, "Surely it must be possible to acquire clotted cream in the US without actually purchasing, feeding, housing and cleaning up after a cow?" **Here follows all the information I have gleaned from much googling.  Don't bother reading it unless you're really interested in the production of clotted cream.** Q: What is clotted cream? A: ...