Bad news is you should be seeing pictures of sunset at the beach to relieve the text of this blog.

Our bird-sitter got held up in Dallas. He went bonk.

But tomorrow evening, you can help me count knives and spoons, or at least butt-test the Dr. Strap chairs on the balcony.

If you have any energy, you might pick up a Magic Eraser and help me with the scuff marks on the walls. And count those water glasses.

And, Mr. Possum, we had that new water heater installed.

I did, ahem, tidy myself up to fit into a swimsuit. Might be nice to go for a swim.

Good news on wheels.

My brother, Charles, drove up alone in his car. Today is the first day he has been behind the wheel since February of last year.

So one successful cataract surgery down, another to go.

Still cancer free, and the spots on his lungs are a bacterial infection being treated with antibiotics.

Kate's family photo

Kate's little girl, Niamh, recently turned 1 year old. Kate mentioned in a post that she and Lars and the baby were signing to one another about certain needs and desires.

"I'd like to hear more," I asked.

Here is her response (scroll up), and I think it's right interesting.

Criminy, I'm stupid.

That's the third time I've stepped into the fireants beside the greenhouse. You'd think I'd learn.

I've also been plucking at my "Susan Boyle" eyebrows. Brooke Shields did more for my self-esteem than any ten other actresses.

UPDATE: I found one hair in my right eyebrow that is as long and longer than the hair on my head. Granted, I wear my hair as short as a man's, but still.

And I can't carry a tune in a bucket.

This side sweep is an attractive look, but how is a girl supposed to keep it there during the course of the evening?

I don't have a clue. Do you?

The parents were installed at the assisted living facility on Monday. So far, so good.

I spent quite a bit of time there in the days running up to their arrival, and can vouch for the kindness and decency of the people on the ground.

And I ate lunch (dinner, really, the big meal of the day) with Big Daddy on Monday. The food is good home cooking.

It's a safe, comfortable, pretty place for as long as it lasts.

For a little mindless fun, go here and vote for the person who wears the garment best.

Catherine, Catherine, you is bustin' out all ovah.

My sister's daughter has joined the Navy.

Girl's kids should have their butts kicked. I include myself in that number.

She required a physical before entering the assisted living facility (yes, that's on again, but Lyman's sister thinks she has escape plans). Since her current doctor wasn't available to see her in a hurry, we used another.

Well, the sis checks with the pharmacy where the parents purchase their drugs and found that the prescription for the medication for Alzheimer's or dementia that was prescribed who knows when hasn't been filled since December of 2007.

Thing was, we weren't seeing her on a daily basis and didn't know the extent of her disability, and Big Daddy was covering for her. At this point, she needs supervision for her reasons as much as Big Daddy does for his, and refuses to admit that anything is wrong.

Lucy just laid an egg. She makes a little labor noise like a small sneeze.

New vocabulary: pulse oximeter

Charlie is lying on his back on the bottom of the cage, holding his tail with his left foot and grooming the toes of the right one. This has happened many times, but I can't show you a picture. He always gets up first.

Aside: Maybe a bird imitating Mr. Wolf is a weagle?

Well, that lasted until the absolute reversal this morning.

None of us has dealt with a dementia patient before, except for the brother-in-law who saw Parkinson's Dementia in the months before his mother's death.

We all gonna be institutionalized before this is over.

You could have knocked both of us over with a canary wing. Lyman's sister and I took Girl to the assisted living center -- and she accepted it!

As we were leaving she said, "I've been scrubbing and cooking for all these years, and I think I am ready to sit my butt down and let other people do it for me. This will be like living in a plush hotel."

You go, Girl!

In e-mail:

A woman was walking along a deserted beach one day when she saw an old bottle.

She picked it up and while she was rubbing the sand off, smoke arose from it and a genie appeared. The amazed woman said, "Oh I know what this is all about I get three wishes!!!"

The genie said, "Nope, sorry, three-wish genies are a storybook myth. I'm a one wish genie. So...what'll it be?"

The woman did not hesitate. She said, "I want world peace. See this map? I want all these countries to stop fighting. This will bring world peace and harmony."

The genie looked at the map and exclaimed, "Lady, be reasonable. These countries have been at war for thousands of years. I'm out of shape after being in a bottle for five hundred years. I'm good but not THAT good! It's just not possible, make another wish and please be reasonable."

The woman thought for a minute and said, "Well, I've never been able to find the right man. You know, one that's considerate and fun, likes to cook and helps with the house cleaning, is great in bed, helps with the kids, and gets along with my family. Doesn't watch sports all the time, and is faithful. That is what I wish for ..... the perfect man."

The genie let out a sigh and said, "Let me see the f****** map."

Well, at least she isn't Lyman's mom.

(Thanks, Obscure Store.)

What a mess. I was telling Lyman's sister this morning that if I should ever remarry, I'll make sure the parents have already passed on. She laughed, as I meant her to.

We have a very ill elderly gentleman on our hands (thank goodness there are a number of them, the hands) and a cantankerous and demented (as in showing definite and repeated signs of senile dementia) 24 kt. gold magnolia. 24 kt. gold, you'll recall, isn't very stout.

She doesn't want any aides at her house, and she flips and cries at the idea of a nursing home. Fact is, she can't take care of him. She thinks she can still cook, but really can't anymore. Yikes, the salt alone could kill him. She can't remember medications. She needs supervision herself.

There's a third option here in Natchez, an assisted living facility where the two can be together, at least for a while. We're pursuing that.

UPDATE: This is the point (and the only point) where I'd like to have a huge house with a private wing where I could put them. Built to ADA standards. With housekeepers and cooks and nurses. I still have to repaint the doorframes in this one where the wheelchair knocked the paint off.

UPDATE II: It was Good Friday last year when I rode with Charles to his sojourn in Jackson.