RHONDA SMITH
3.3K posts

RHONDA SMITH
@ras3060
Catholic & lowliest servant of our Lord, my God & my Love. Deus meus et Omnia!
가입일 Mart 2012
395 팔로잉198 팔로워
고정된 트윗

The renovated Father Peyton Center in Easton is now open, featuring a new Lourdes grotto, Marian garden, rosary walk, and chapel honoring Venerable Father Patrick Peyton's legacy of family prayer and faith. Read more at thebostonpilot.com/article.php?ID…

English

A funny detail:
I write everything in Japanese. 🇯🇵
AI translates it because my English isn't very good. 😅
The images are AI-generated too. 🤖
Sometimes ChatGPT.
Sometimes Grok.
So the entire project is basically a Japanese guy 👨, a confused samurai ⚔️, and several AIs 🤖 trying to understand America 🇺🇸 together.
None of us expected this. 😂
English

@FreddyLA7 Freddy, ck @davis_wx he lives in Galveston and @NWSHouston
Both will provide great updates for local and surrounding weather
English

In America, a stranger will rename you in public, and you are simply expected to become that man.
I entered a busy café.
The line was long.
The machines screamed.
The people moved with confidence, like everyone had been trained since birth to order milk in secret codes.
A woman at the counter smiled.
“Name?”
I stood tall.
Eight hundred years of family history rested on my tongue.
“NyanChuu.”
She nodded with great confidence and wrote something on the cup.
No hesitation.
No fear.
A professional.
Then she read it back.
“Nacho?”
The café continued.
Nobody stopped.
Nobody gasped.
Nobody drew a sword.
Just me.
Standing there.
Watching my soul become a snack.
In Japan, a name is a house you inherit.
In America, a name is wet clay in the hands of a barista.
I wanted to correct her.
But she had said it with such bright certainty.
There was no mockery.
Only service.
Only speed.
Only a cup waiting to be born.
So I bowed.
“Yes. Today, I am Nacho.”
The man behind me said, “That’s kind of a cool name.”
He had no idea what he had witnessed.
A funeral.
A baptism.
A menu item.
I stepped aside and waited.
Every time the staff shouted another name, people moved instantly.
“Emily!”
“Jason!”
“Mike!”
Then it came.
“Nacho!”
The sound hit the room.
Not as a mistake.
As destiny.
I walked forward.
Not fast.
A man should never rush toward a new identity.
The barista handed me the cup.
“Have a good one, Nacho.”
I received it with both hands.
Because when America gives you a new name, it also gives you the courage to answer to it.
I drank the coffee.
Too hot.
Too sweet.
Too large.
Perfect.
For twenty minutes, I was not NyanChuu.
I was Nacho.
I sat by the window and wondered what kind of man Nacho should become.
A lighter man.
A crispy man.
A man who does not fear melted cheese.
Before leaving, I looked at the cup again.
The handwriting was terrible.
The meaning was holy.
You call it a misspelled name.
I call it a temporary American rebirth.
Tomorrow, I will return to another counter.
If they call me NyanChuu, I will bow.
If they call me Nacho, I will bow deeper.
And if one day they call me Taco, I will not resist the ceremony.

English

@pomi0423 La Fogata. It’s a wonderful place you won’t forget nor regret
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サンアントニオに到着して、まずは近くにあった名物の Puffy Tacos を頂きました🌮 揚げられてもちっとジューシーなタコス!美味しかった〜🤤❤️🔥
今晩と明日だけですが、サンアントニオのおすすめを是非教えてください!テキサスの皆さん!💬
#texas #sanantnio


日本語

@BuzzPatterson @GavinNewsom DOJ won’t give any info anyway since it’s an ongoing investigation. He, and us, will see it all play out
English

This is rich! 🤣
Newsom screaming ‘fishing expedition’ while his own former chief of staff just pled guilty to wire fraud, false taxes, and lying to feds.
Listen, @GavinNewsom, California resident here.
The probes into you and your wife’s nonprofit grift started under Biden, from California whistleblowers, not Trump.
You weaponized government for years in CA, dodged transparency on your taxes and that billion-dollar high-speed rail black hole disaster, but now demand every Signal chat from the DOJ.
The hypocrisy is Olympic-level, Gavin. Californians deserve to know why their state is bleeding out under your watch, not your latest victim act. The rot starts at home.
You’re done. Maybe your wife and Harvey can share a cell?
Governor Gavin Newsom@CAgovernor
My office is demanding the Trump Administration release any and all records on the Trump DOJ’s politically motivated, baseless fishing expedition. The American people deserve to know who ordered this abuse of power and how far it goes.
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@japan_nobunaga Nobunagasan, (if I may), this has been on news + others are commenting how much they take delight in these.
Pay no attention to the party-poopers!
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@japan_nobunaga It’s the Twilight Zone, Episode Idiocy Universe
The leftists want to destroy America
No clue how they’d survive wo laws, policing, jails, prisons, reform
Just plain delusional destruction
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In 2019, New York eliminated cash bail for most misdemeanors and nonviolent felonies.
Researchers later compared people released under the reform with statistically similar people held pre-reform.
For most defendants, re-arrest rates dropped.
But for one subgroup — people charged with a violent felony who already had a recent violent felony arrest — the same studies found pretrial violent felony re-arrest rates went UP.
From Japan I have to ask:
In what universe do you release someone whose most recent prior arrest was for armed violence — and call it reform?
English

@MrCasey62 @patrickmadrid @Truth_matters20 this Friday:
Fulton Sheen “But Christ didn't come down. To come down would have been human. To stay was divine. He remained until our sin was atoned for and healed.”
plus.relevantradio.com/fulton-sheen-s…
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“Far from ‘keeping Christ on the cross,’ as if to downplay or, worse, deny His glorious Resurrection, the crucifix powerfully reminds us of Christ’s decisive victory over death by His own death.” ~ @PatrickMadrid
More here: patrickmadrid.substack.com/p/why-do-catho…

English

My grocery cart, laden with peculiar American tubers, met another’s with an unfortunate clang. Before my tongue could find the words, a pronouncement arrived.
"You're fine."
I had not yet spoken. My bow was still loading. The formal apology of my house, acknowledgment, regret, restitution, in that order, was assembled and ready, and this man waved all of it off in two words and kept walking toward the salsa.
You're fine. Not "it's fine." YOU are fine. A verdict on my entire person, delivered instantly, by the injured party, free of charge.
In my land, forgiveness is a door you must knock on properly. Here it opens while your hand is still rising.
I pursued him. This was a mistake, but I pursued him.
"Sir. I struck you with a cart."
"Barely. You're fine."
"I wish to apologize correctly."
"Dude. You're fine."
Three pardons. I had been forgiven three times for one collision while actively trying to be guilty. The salsa aisle had never seen a standoff like it: a man demanding to apologize, a man refusing delivery, both polite, neither yielding.
He won. He won by leaving.
I stood there holding an apology with nowhere to put it. I keep it still. It is in good condition.
Mercy here does not wait for the apology. It arrives first, and holds the door open behind it.
I have begun using it myself. A woman clipped my heel with her cart and gasped, and I turned and said "you're fine" with the calm of a man who learned from the best, and she WAS fine, because saying it makes it so.
That is the trick of this country. They declare you fine until you are.

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@George_WCFC_WHU @PinkertonsBBQ @SaltgrassSteak @MiTierraCafeSA You need to goto La Fogata in San Antonio
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Some of the food I had in San Antonio, some of the best I’ve ever had!
BBQ tray from @PinkertonsBBQ
Ribeye steak from @SaltgrassSteak
Nachos and Mexican selection plate from @MiTierraCafeSA
🇺🇸🤠🥩🌮




English

Clinging to the side of the dwelling, a precarious ladder swayed as I ascended.
Below, my American host, ever jovial, called up instructions for the 'gutter ceremony'.
The roof's edge, a perilous frontier, was clogged with the fallen foliage of autumn.
Each leaf, once vibrant, now contributed to a blockage threatening the very flow of the house's lifeblood.
This was not merely 'cleaning'.
This was a ritual of renewal, a seasonal cleansing of the dwelling's vital pathways.
"Just scoop out the leaves, Nobunaga. Don't fall, man!" he shouted.
But I knew this was more than a simple task. It was an annual 'gutter ceremony', a purification rite to ensure the uninterrupted flow of nature's bounty and the protection of the home.
Each handful of decaying leaves removed was a burden lifted, a potential flood averted.
It was a test of balance, of focus, and of commitment to the household's welfare.
A true guardian understands that the integrity of the smallest conduit reflects the strength of the entire structure.
With each careful scoop, I restoring harmony, allowing the rains to descend gracefully without impediment.
I felt the crisp autumn air, the rustle of the remaining leaves in the trees, a constant reminder of the cycle of growth and decay.
He calls it cleaning the gutters.
I call it the annual gutter ceremony.
My duty is clear: I will perform this sacred gutter ceremony with unwavering dedication, season after season.

English

@davis_wx Poor kid, so looks forward to non-eventful visit. Hope he still gets to enjoy
English

Freddy is visiting us on the island. I gave him clouds, rain and a tropical storm watch to combat the heat and sun he’s had an abundance of.
Freddy🇩🇪@FreddyLA7
Good morning from Galveston, Texas. Our main mission today is to get a new suitcase. Everywhere we go, people are so incredibly kind to us. This is what we received from the Police Department and the Astros yesterday. What I appreciate most is that they always think of my friends too and prepare gifts for them as well, not just for me. Huge thank you to everyone🙏
English

@tuuu28283 Cowgirls own hats too! Several as a matter of fact plus many pairs of boots
English

@MrCasey62 Cross = ok but
Crucifix = reminder of saving grace of His love for us
English

The morning sun found me again at the House of Waffles. Beside me, a man spoke a string of foreign sounds to the cook, who instantly understood.
"Scattered, smothered, covered," he said.
That is not food. That is an incantation. Three words, spoken without fear, and the kitchen MOVED.
I studied the menu. The spell has more verses. Chunked. Diced. Peppered. Capped. Topped. Country. Eight sacred words, and you may combine them, and the grill obeys.
In my land, we have tea ceremonies that take four years to learn. America has the hash brown liturgy, and truckers are its priests.
I attempted it. I gripped the counter.
"Scattered," I began. "Smothered. And, forgive me, covered."
"You don't gotta apologize to the potatoes, hon."
I did, though. One must respect any power one does not yet understand.
The cook called my words back in the order I spoke them, like a vow being witnessed. Then the man beside me leaned over.
"First time?"
"Is it so obvious?"
"You bowed at 'covered.'"
I confess it freely. I bowed to hash browns. They arrived scattered, smothered, covered, and I understood at once why the words exist. The dish is too mighty for a single noun.
A spell does not reward the loud. It rewards the precise.
I am learning the remaining verses. One per visit. The day I order all eight at once, I ask only that someone be there to witness it.
Diced is next. I have been practicing in the car.

English

@japan_nobunaga Each state has its own governing laws.
Federal laws take precedence over these.
All abide by the Constitution in the Republic of the United States of America
Watch movie “1776” then goto @Hillsdale @prageru for more in-depth study
English

I'm starting to think America isn't one country 🇺🇸
Every time I post, an American replies:
"well that's not true in MY state."
Taxes? Different. Laws? Different.
Roads, schools, even the SNACKS? Different.
Is it fair to say the US is basically
50 small countries wearing one big flag?
Quote tweet with your state — prove me right or wrong 🙋

English

@japan_nobunaga We all want peace
Must fight good against evil to prevail
English

Honestly, from the bottom of my soul:
I don’t care if you call it left or right.
I don’t want children in Gaza to die.
I don’t want children in Ukraine to die.
I don’t want people forced to leave home,
cross oceans,
and end up doing desperate things just to survive.
And I don’t want the people who were born in peaceful towns
to lose the peace they grew up with.
I just want a world where kids can grow old.
Where families can eat dinner together.
Where dads can yell at the TV during an NFL game.
Where moms can buy way too much at Costco.
Where neighbors argue about barbecue, gas prices, and basketball.
A boring, ordinary, safe life.
That should not be a political dream.
That should be the minimum we ask of Earth.
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