A beautiful little ten-year-old boy crawled onto one of the chairs in the den today.

What do you do?

Esprit d'escalier:

"It's tough being a woman, but I wouldn't want to be anything else."

Speaking of people on the ground, we're still looking for coats and sweaters and blankets for the coastal areas.

If you have something in the closet, because you lost weight, because the kids have grown, because you bought something that was never worn (I have a good-looking sweater from Scotland that Jason didn't like), because Uncle Syl died, check on your local community, and find your need.

Or send them to me. I'm going to mobilize the Saudi-mobile for a ride to Slidell. It's got chilly around here.

Lucy Belle

A somewhat tired Lucy, for Dr. Smith.

She did well today. That husband of Dr. Debbie works magic.

The Blue Dog print came today.

The shipping cylinder says "OPEN BY PROFESSIONAL FRAMER."

We'll take it to Dianne's. She does good work.

Something else for the boys to fight over when we're gone.

UPDATE: And that's the last dime I ever give to the Red Cross. I like people on the ground.

Today comes Lucy's turn at the vet's office. We can reliably predict that she will have the vapors.

Dr. Debbie's husband will be the holder again. Maybe that will help.

She has a preference for gentlemen.

J-Birds is finally back on-line after Katrina.

Go read it.

Why I love the internets.

RIP, Mr. Dresslar.

(Thank you, Sploid.)

Today Charlie has his first appointment with Dr. Debbie, the local veterinarian we use.

I expect it to go something like this:

"HONK, honk, honk honk, honk. HONK!!!! HOnk, honk, honk, HONK!, Honk, honk, hoNK, honk, honk. Honk. Honk."

UPDATE: He did remarkably well -- stepped up nicely for everyone involved, didn't honk much or scream like Lucy.

Dr. Debbie's husband was the holder today. He's good with birds.

So Charlie's all trimmed up and has made a passel of new friends.

UPDATE II: Dr. Debbie said, "Let's get a tongue depressor so we can do his beak."

Charlie cracked that in two within seconds.

Jason, honey, will you please shut up?

He just called asking for more minutes on his telephone.

He is just like his grandmother. We called her from Italy to report that we were fine and she kept Lyman on the phone for 28 minutes.

The call cost us $54.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but his older brother came in one day and said, "Dad, did I talk that much when I was younger?"

It goes back to Michael Lewis' quote in his Katrina story in the NYT, which is now, unfortunately, behind the archive wall: "Conversation [in New Orleans] is a pastime, not a tool."

Correct me, Mr. Schranck. You have a printed copy.

So I called the guy in Houma, LA, to check on him after Rita.

He built the birds' cages. A Cajun he is, and a roofer who breeds Gouldian finches.

He is fine, as is his family. He sold the cage business, and no longer has his big birds. He had seventeen. He has grandchildren now that he likes to spend time with. He and his ten-year-old grandson go fishing every other weekend.

He didn't remember me. He told me he sold thousands of cages.

But he kept his African Grey, Zeke.

"Did you ever teach Zeke to say 'Don't worry, be happy'?"

"No, he still says 'Birds don't talk' when I bring it up."

Exhibit A for why I am not and have never been a mother of small children.

But where is my #$%! car?

If you have a real snot on your Christmas list, Overstock.com has 1000 thread count sheets on sale for $149.99 a set.

Tsk, tsk, Ms. Postrel. Too, too much time in Los Angeles.

On the basis of this post from Peg Britton in Kansas, I signed up for the Infoition News Service.

It's free, and is a compilation of news stories and editorials from assorted papers.

My first issue came today, and it looks okay.

Jesse Manning is a recent grad from Kansas State. His blog is here.

Charliesil

Gratuitous silhouette of Charlie. What a shapely guy!

If you pop over to the Natchez Democrat today and look at the building for sale at 211 N. Pearl, you'll see the bar where Lyman and I met.

I'd just finished a paste-up shift at the paper. It was about 1 a.m. Lyman had come to talk to the sports writer about fantasy baseball.

That face.

(Click on More Homes if it doesn't come up immediately.)

Today is my brother Charles' birthday. He is 61.

Christmas is right around the corner again, and I'm going to tout my favorite makeup again.

Events of the past week have called for a bit of makeup, and I am still enthralled by bareMinerals.

They're light, comfortable, versatile and natural-looking, and luxurious to apply. Nothing at all mask-like about them.

If I had a woman to buy for (and I might), I'd give them strong consideration. I hooked my sister (55), and she hooked a woman at her office (45+).

Young girls and women around here tend to use flat foundations that look cheap and unnatural. Teens especially would look brilliant in these products. They appear expensive, but a little goes a long way.

I have no financial interest at all in the company, no prospect of earning commissions, no free products or such. There are sources for the products other than the one above that you can find on the Internet.

I just like the stuff, and think women should at least give the products a try, if it's possible.

That closes this advertisement.

Oh, and Lyman likes the Gillette Mach III razor.

One of the pleasant activities this weekend was the walk from Rosalie through downtown Natchez, past King's Tavern and to my brother's house after the performance. 'Twas under a full moon.

We met a neighbor gentleman walking his dogs whom I met 20 years ago when I visited Natchez for Christmas, and haven't seen since.

barge

Rollin' on the river.

3balloon

Several took off from the bluffs of Natchez today. Here are three.

fill

Filling a balloon.

irma2

Yes, kids. That's Miss Irma. At 64, she's still got it.

Michael and his girl, my brother and I are going to see Irma Thomas this afternoon. She plays from 5 to 6:30.

I might go earlier and listen to some Tony Joe White. He starts at 3.

River1

And I never lost a minute of sleepin',
worryin' bout the way things might have been ...

For me, the cruise was a joy. In the twelve years I've lived in the area, that was the second time I've been on the river. The first was in October 1993.

I can tell you nothing about the food. It was served buffet-style. I couldn't tear myself away from the deck long enough to have any.

The boat is on its way to Cincinnati, where the crew will work its way downriver, doing daytrips much like the ones here so these people can scrape up some kind of living.

The captains of the Audubon and the steamboat Natchez both lost everything in the storm. They are sleeping on their boats.

p_johnjames1

I'm dosing up on high-powered cough medicine and taking a little cruise with my boy this evening.

The last time we went out to dinner was in May.

It won't be a long evening. No, I won't go overboard.

(Photo from steamboatnatchez.com)

Poor, poor Charlie.

His eyes are bright, he appears perfectly healthy. He sings and whistles and carries on as usual.

But he has recently developed a terrible cough.

I am mortified.

I visited the lady doctor, and I have an acute case of bronchitis.

She ordered a shot in...in my hiney.

Trade-outs.

We're watching a show on HGTV, called "What You Get for the Money".

$400,000 in Los Angeles buys a 750 square ft. condo, which is smaller than my kitchen and den combined. The kitchen here alone is 280. A cool $148,000 in a high-rise condo, and you can sleep on the bar! Put a kid on the island!

Of course, there you're in the heart of the action.

Verrry interesting.

With Halloween coming up, should we teach Charlie "Werewolf of London"? I'm sure he'd do the AIOOOH perfectly.

(Of course, Lyman says whatever you teach him, you'll hear a lot. With all these wolf whistles in the house, I've never felt so pretty.)

In ongoing parrot news, Charlie has now settled into his baths. The honking has subsided, and he's more and more cooperative. He might even, ah, like them, but as a little boy would never let on.

Lucy seems to like Charlie, too, but acts like a crotchety aunt most of the time.

But you'll frequently catch her preening his head, and she'll stay at it for a good while if you don't watch too long or say anything.

Oh, and today Charlie is 8 months old.

Yikes.

So, Mr. Hlatky, when I was nearly sick with grief over Katrina, a lovely man with a beautifully dressed orchestra came on the screen and lifted my heart. That was Andre Rieu, and his specialty is Strauss.

Where does he rate?

A peek at his website shows he is deadly commercial, but his music is joyous.

I'm not a gun girl -- I prefer knives and cast iron skillets -- but Mostly Cajun goes on the blogroll.

Speaking of hair, if I had any choice, I would wear the high-class pageboy, or a French twist. Perhaps a chignon, on occasion.

I French-braided my longer hair, and pinned it under at the bottom. Or clipped it in a ponytail high on my crown.

Here's the kind of gentleman I like. I asked Daniel Morris to tell us what he needs, and he does.

Coats in the South don't have to be huge. Mr. Morris, I'm clean out of coats, and I wear the Brooks Brothers I bought in 1985 (which you can't have). Who can we donate to who will buy you proper coats?

I just looked at the Land's End catalog. We can do that well at Wal-Mart. What are your sizes?

I wear Wal-Mart, too.

Scarlet

I am a fair decent Southern girl, but I try to stay away from Scarlett.

I might think about this tomorrow.

UPDATE: In place, and after examination, this color will do. Yes, it will.

Oh, Punkin

Miss Francesca asked about my Rit Dye project.

I started here, today. Mind, it took me a minute to remember to do before and after. This one's wet.

Let's check when they come out of the dryer.

I know my value.

Just after I married Lyman, my mama lit into me.

She said, "I worked for you to go to school. I expected you to go to IBM."

I said, "Mama, I have work to do here."

She took to Lyman when she learned he could do plumbing.

Babies

Not to offend anyone, but we're equal opportunity here.

We have a little colored girl at bottom and a honky up top.

Gracious sakes. Do I have a hand that pretty?

The right one, kids.

My son and I

My son, Michael, and I.

Oooh, what lucky a man he was.

I've nearly had it with the blogosphere.

When I wasn't cooking for my children, I was looking for the lyrics of Koko Taylor's, "I am a woman."

As I remember:

I am a woman,
I sing the blues,
I am a woman,
I change old to new.

I hold back the lightning,
With the palm of my hand,

Shake hands with the devil,
Make him crawl in the sand

Ohh, yeahhh.

What are you supposed to say?

Vicki, from the dentist's office, called today. I had an appointment for a deep-scaling and antibiotic insertion for one troublesome molar in my left jaw for October 26.

"We have a space open tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to come in then, instead?"

Are you kidding?

After more than 20 years in his fantasy baseball league, Lyman finishes in first place.

What might a really hungry, blue-collar Southern woman cook for dinner? Salmon patties, purple-hull peas, hot-water cornbread and fried okra work.

Sean, Irma Thomas will be in town for an hour or two on October 16.

No, not your town, silly, our town.