I like that set-up.

I took a king-sized comforter to the washateria up on the highway where they also have a car wash.

It's not the Bar of Soap, but it will do.

UPDATE: I positively hate laundromats. But it's worth my time to save $10 to $15 on cleaning a comforter and getting it really clean. The last time I sent it to a cleaners, the cost was $20 and I wasn't satisfied.

This laundry had the normal allotment of little wild Indians running around trying to crack their noggins on the vinyl-tiled concrete floor. So it was a relief to spend some time vacuuming the car and washing the top coat of grime off. It needs more work, but I have a start.

Michael has been using this car, taking it to Baton Rouge and New Orleans. I noticed yesterday that someone seems to have taken a crowbar to the post at the edge of the windshield. Did they plan to take the windshield? I can't imagine what else they'd want to steal from a ten-year-old Escort wagon. If it was something else, why not go through the side glass like the other vandals? And the car is seldom locked.

Damn, damn, damn, damn and more damns.

Charlie jumped to the floor after his bath and popped his keel again.

What can we do?

Oh, Lucy.

Why don't we put you under contract to an exclusive restaurant? Poached parrot eggs might bring someone a pretty penny.

I haven't taken her other egg away yet, and this morning she is sitting on two.

Tell you what, Tony, I'll eat my heart out for you.

Strawberries from Tickfaw, Louisiana.

My, my. He might clean up right nice. Except for the tattoo.

(Thank you, Obscure Store.)

Poor kitchen hand has been backed into a corner by Bridezilla.

I have nothing to offer.

(There's another egg from Lucy as I write at 9:20 p.m. Excuse me, dear...)

The gifting I have done for couples has been through showers given by outside parties. Because I have some connection to everyone who invites me to one of these things, I'll call a mother or someone else in the know to ask what the couple wants or needs. If one of those people were to tell me that the couple would like cash, I wouldn't be at all offended. I appreciate the flexibility of cash myself.

However, I've never heard of a bride asking for her own gifts, and I've never encountered a direct request for cash.

UPDATE: As brides and grooms become older and better established before they marry, we might need to find a way for them to make that request without embarrassing themselves. The last four gifts I've given have been gift certificates -- one to Lowe's, two to Amazon, and one to the shop of registry. A check would have been more convenient for me and more welcome to a couple who would, for instance, like to purchase things on E-Bay.

Kate, you married recently. What's your opinion?

Dr. James Joyner was married fairly recently. What does he think?

UPDATE: Dr. Joyner answers:

I don't think we said anything about gifts on the invitation itself, since those things tend to be formal. On our wedding blog and eVites, though, we put a note to the effect "we've got enough crap, don't buy us anything" but established a couple wedding registries at Macy's, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Home Depot.

UPDATE: Kate's answer here.

Kate has pictures up from her trip to China. Here is one of the lazy Susan serving arrangement that she calls "the wheel of death."

A friend brought me a dishpan of daisy clumps. I dug out a suitable spot to plant them in. I like flowers with faces.

One day, my ambition will get the better part of me, and I'll create a mixed border all the way around this area. Summer will then come on, and I will die of West Nile, even though I avoided the heat by waking at dawn. Mosquitos never sleep anymore.

A few blossoms on these George Tabor azaleas took on a deeper hue. That's odd and very pretty.

Taking no risks this year, we planted $2 basil plants in a planter on the patio. One healthy $2 plant will yield about $300 worth of those tiny containers of fresh basil that you buy at the supermarket.

Before, I've also cut a bunch of basil, stuffed it into a pint Mason jar, and added a daisy or two for a perfectly presentable centerpiece for a casual dinner. The basil cuts rooted.

I've tried all week to take a decent picture of this arugula plant. It's a great looking old-fashioned kitchen garden plant that makes me want to plow up the rest of the back yard for garden.

Lyman has now cleared it from the bed, where he's going to plant a variety of peppers, squash, broccoli and Brussels sprouts.

Why couldn't he let it go to seed? Next time that goes into my bed.

I just finished watching The Great Global Warming Swindle here on my computer.

Ladies, do you find Professor Ian Clark of the University of Ottawa as attractive as I do? Dr. Reiter (sp?) was also wonderfully attractive in a different way.

Now I'm ready to watch An Inconvenient Truth just as soon as the distributors make it available for free on the Internet. If that has happened, please let me know the URL.

Now for something completely different.

This is Lucy doing one of her mating dances. They're not as lovely and complex as they were when she was two or three.

(Just short of a minute, the end of about 3 minutes of dancing.)

This Bacopa and Coreopsis together should make a cheerful planter.

I was a little worried that they wouldn't play well together, but further reading suggests that they'll do fine.

What did you do today, the first day of spring?

First, the big boys came to collect leaves.

I admired the tulips.

Then I cleaned the bird complex, which entailed some nifty limbo moves wiping down the interior of the lexan cage. But they're all ready for taping again.

I admired the tulips.

My back.

I admired the tulips.

Lucy laid an egg on the evening of March 19.

Here is a story on the new library from the Natchez Democrat.

Maia is sitting with her mother. God bless.

This year is the first time I've planted tulips. They cheer me no end.

UPDATE: I had forgotton that tulip stems follow the light. We had a partly cloudy day today, and they all leaned to the north. Cut ones do it, too. There is a biological term for that, which I once knew.

UPDATE: Photophilic? Ah, phototropism.

The new Concordia Parish Library opened its doors today!

Pictures here, here, here, and here.

I'd have taken more, but the camera battery was running down.

UPDATE: I'm having a few qualms about this design. I was dressed in a clean sweatshirt and jeans when I walked in, and thought about turning around to go home and dress better.

Yes, yes, I could dress better when I go out. But what happens when you can't?

Is this going to turn off the poor people in this area, black and white?

There's an open house on Saturday including Ms. Amanda Taylor, whom I've spoken about before, and the architect. I can always ask.

Personally, I think it's a great public space for the region. But for a lot of kids, this will be nicest building they've ever been in. That could be scary. Would've been for me.

Let me find that sentence. It's in this article.

Here it is:

Mr. Lacob, the Kleiner Partner, declined to specify how the company’s technology works, saying he did not want to tip off potential competitors.

Now that's in reference to a proprietary oil something or other in this case, but I suspect it will be repeated many times in other energy contexts in the next few years.

This household needs fewer cooks and more cleaners.

Today promises to be a good day for the birds. Lucy and Charlie both love crawfish, and Charlie adores corn on the cob, raw or cooked.

He talks about it:

"Charlie is a handsome boy. Charlie wants corns. Ok? Ok, sweeties."

All day long.

So white azaleas are in a pint Mason jar in the guest room. E., the young lady from Baton Rouge, is staying the weekend.

Tomorrow we have the season's first crawfish boil for our house. We've invited some lady friends (bless'em, they're widows now), and Michael, the cook, has invited a few friends.

How is that guest room coming, Janis? Well, it's stalled. The woodworker we've asked to build the furniture is having terrible trouble with his artificial knees, and spends a lot of time in pain. Guests have a bed, though, and a lamp, and a chair. The lamp stands on the flipped seat of the vanity bench that was part of Girl's bedroom suit bought when she was 11.

M. the woodworker has begun work on the headboard, but is going no faster than he can manage without harm.

As for the quilt. Ah, well, the ten-year-old quilt top might be 11 or 12 before it's done.

I can say, though, that the laminate floor is a pleasure to take care of. A flick with a dust mop, maybe a swish of a damp cloth, and it's good as new. I can barely wait to do our bedroom.

If I had any sense at all, the whole house would be done in industrial linoleum.

The blossoms on these azaleas are as big as the palm of my hand. They cut well for display in a vase.

These predate my arrival at the Gore house.

This is a particularly pretty tulip. I wish I knew which one it is. Maybe a Rembrandt? Or is it a Juice n' Honey? The Antoinette?

Spring.

That was a lovely wedding.

Music was a flute and a harp. And one vocalist who went on too long. Just a note kids, being on stage is being on stage. Don't fidget.

The big girls were all beautiful. The bride's dress was a crushed silk, with a simple floor-length lace edged veil. That girl has a flawless complexion. I asked her mama if she was trying to outshine the bride. Girl did them both in with a bronze two-piece floor-length that was vintage Hollywood. Just the thing for dinner and dancing at the supper club. She was 87 on the 5th of this month.

The pastor cited Corinthians on love. The pair took communion to "Let us Break Bread Together."

And yes, I cried. Nearly blubbered. And I don't even have to pay for it.

Okay, Kim.

Today is the wedding day. It's beautiful outside, 80 degrees.

Lyman's niece has waited and worked a long time before marrying this boy. Seven years. She'll graduate from law school in May.

I'm having terrific fun watching this flamenco video that I found at Sarah's site.

Watching the videos that come up on the sidebar is fun, too. You know, I might like being a woman.

On the evening of March 6, Lucy laid an egg. I took it away from her yesterday.

I let her sit one for the 28-day term in January into February. Her laying behavior was so weird through November, December and January, I thought it might get her back on schedule.

We'll see.

Kate's business has taken her to China. She's having a little culture shock.

UPDATE: Her latest post reminded me of the excellent way the Chinese serve large groups. The tables are round, with a large lazy Susan in the middle where all the dishes are placed. Settings are at the perimeter of the base table. Guests can serve themselves from whatever dish is in front of them, then spin the Susan along to select another dish. Those tables seat 8 or 10.

Friends of ours had a similar 6-seat table built for their home. It was charming. I love a round table, but we don't have the space for one.

When I was in China with a tour group, the dishes weren't, all in all, quite so ... colloquial (help me here with a better and more appropriate word), perhaps? But I can go the rest of my life without tasting another sea cucumber.

And she missed a digit in her pop. figure for ChongQing -- 31 million and change.

Ok, dear readers. (I'm so nice when I want something.)

We have access to high-quality tuna steaks via a local restaurant. We want to sear thick tuna steaks, and serve them with a sauce or not. We don't like sweet food.

We're not finding anything chasing down our resources.

Do you have something good?

Ahem.

Radley Balko posted a piece on the Waffle House code that's a good companion to this from way back.

Ah. Pumps.

So, I have to track back and correct misinformation.

While we live nestled in an arc of a hydroelectric facility and nuclear reactors, we actually belong to the Louisiana Energy and Power Authority. Most of the facilities in this organization are gas-fired power plants. I don't know yet if they buy from other sources.

(Always do the research, Janis.)

So time to push along the window replacement project.

How the past sneaks up on you.

This morning, during my last dream, I was doing some work with a bizarre little shop. Someone else and I had altered a sign for a product, then presented it for approval.

The sign was not approved because the product name was not in the same font as the product price. The font used for the price was named "Desert Rag."

Lucy laid an egg on the evening of 3/2/07.

I don't know.

Stuffed shells? Spinach salad? Cream of spinach soup? Sarson Ka Saag? (However, I don't think they carry channa dal flour at Piggly Wiggly.) Indian Spicy Fried Spinach?

I love spinach. I even liked the stuff out of the can.

This page needs a little color.