I haven't watched this for a long time. Listen:



And that's how you teach a bird phrases.

Isaac Damage

Outdoors, anyway.

Well, maybe not. I just broke a molar on a humidified lemon drop. It wasn't that hard.

Mama always said candy would rot your teeth.

She who laughs last laughs best. That wasn't a power surge. The generator is running for real now.

Damned sure should, at that price.

Son of a bitch. The Generac generator worked perfectly fine until this morning.

Repeated power surges burnt out the utility coil, the limit switch, and the relay.

$240 worth of power surges. City power is on. Don't that beat all?

Pantone's Color Report for Fall 2012.

(Thanks, Carolyn, at eebeads.)

Bonnie Raitt

Lets see, 8 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. That's not so bad.

The kitchen floor could use a good cleaning. Hmm. All that rain coming.

UPDATE: Yahoo. I was able to go back to sleep until 6:30.

Hurricane Isaac is hitting Orange Beach, where the condo is, and home. I feel so special. I am hunkered down with all necessary supplies for days.

Jerry Jeff Walker

Oh, well, what the hell. Might as well clean the office.

Lots of Waylon Jennings.

Of course, now we have Isaac coming this way. Gustav took limbs out of one of our oaks.

I guess it's time to watch some TV, hunh? I haven't had it on for three months.

Oh, no. I just thought I was screwed last night. Here it's 9 p.m. and I just woke from a long nap.

A lot of Irma Thomas.

My schedule is so screwed. I had already cleaned a bathroom by 5:15 this morning.

The Neville Brothers belong in this set.

I just laid away a 4-piece black wool Armani suit (a jacket, 2 trousers and a skirt) for $400 at The Consignment Shop on Franklin in Natchez. It will need some alterations, but there are some highly skilled seamstresses around here.

An absolute steal. Hey, y'all said to treat myself well.



I can mourn in style.

Bangles

I have gone bonkers for bangles.

And Bingo Starr at the Carriage House. Today's Blue Plate was oyster and artichoke soup, a fried green tomato slice, oyster dressing with Bearnaise, and shrimp remoulade. $12. The soup was divine.

I'm going to Graceland, the boys can come with me if they want:

Jason also brings me this:

Jason brings me Morning 40 Federation:

Ronan Hardiman

Oh, yikes! I just found Gaelic Storm:

It's time to do some serious housecleaning here, as soon as Jason packs up the rest of his stuff and goes off to live in his dream pad.

With that in mind, I bought three La Bottine Souriante CDs (so I can use them in the car) and one Bob Seger's Greatest Hits today. Maybe he'll light a fire down below when I'm scrubbing kitchen drawers.

DSCN0674

Smart-mouthed kids.

Janis at Jericho

Sort of like being married to Lyman. Sort of like now.

Jordan Valley

One of the few photos of Lyman and I together. I don't like photographs of myself.

His mother, his sister, his father, and his sister's daughter

Sally was at the coffee shop this morning. She's a refugee from the tornado in Joplin, Missouri. She looks like this. And a mighty sweet girl she is.

She lives with a retired orthopedic surgeon who practiced for a while in Joplin.

Lyman in mid 30s

A little out of focus. The curls were natural. Likely mid 1980s.
Boy, could I have used him then. And he could have used a haircut.

Lyman and boy

Here's Lyman palling around with terrorists in Jerusalem, ca.1996.
We were married about two years then. He was about 48.

Lyman and fish

Here's Lyman in 1970, long before I knew him.
I was 13 at the time. He would be 23-24 here.

That's his brother in the background.

I learned three things about grief:

1) Pretty plants and flowers gladden the heavy spirit.
2) Sympathy cards count.
3) Photos are beyond value. After those last days in the hospital, I couldn't remember his face.

The shrine has been knocked down, but the cards are on file (there were many more). The basket of pictures is still out.

Oh, great. I was so tired after my day's work that I popped off into a deep sleep at 8 o'clock. Now it's 11 p.m. and I'm feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Maybe I'll plan my small dinner party. I want to have my brother Charles and a couple of his friends over for alligator scallopine and a nice salad.

Once upon a time, we could buy sliced mangoes in light syrup from the refrigerated produce section of the local markets. They make a fine summer dessert when paired with Blue Bell Vanilla Bean ice cream. It shouldn't be hard to make mangoes in simple syrup, should it Tony?

No, I have not been moping.

This morning at 8:30 I locked up the birds in their Lexan cages and dragged the wire ones out the door onto the patio for a good wash. Then I put the birds into the wire cages and gave them a good wash with the mister setting on our hose spray.

Left them outside to commune with nature, and came in and moved everything off the enclosed porch that didn't belong there, vacuumed windows, shelves and floors, mopped the floor, and made a bird room.

(Thanks, Dianne at Natchez Coffee Co.)

I'm putting this image up because it is the best photo I've ever taken, and it will give Icepick a laugh:

 

Maybe I'll open the windows and go all out Tennessee Williams.

Speaking of not costing a fortune, I just had grilled salmon, polenta, and vegetables, with a side of pickled beets that must have been divinely inspired for $16 at the Carriage House.

Bingo Starr is an unprepossessing man with an angel's touch when it comes to food. He is a gift to the area.

Look, people have been telling me to treat myself well, and I am. Doesn't have to cost a fortune.

Then if you'd like to do a double deal, Penney's has the lightest, softest, nicely detailed, innocent cotton nighties on sale for $12 apiece.

All right ladies, and gentlemen who like to touch ladies, listen up. Nivea Moisturizing Body Wash is on sale for $4 a bottle in our town, and my skin hasn't felt this silky in years.

Treat yourself, or someone else.

It's okay, it's okay. I've been to a doctor and have a brain scan scheduled tomorrow morning.

Oh, dear. I'm not quite the proper, distinguished Southern widow-woman, am I?

Jason's mother and I have been momming it up outfitting his new bachelor apartment. She's working from Michigan using Craigslist and her Penney's discount (her husband recently retired as a site engineer for the chain), while I'm doing what I can here on the ground.

I had forgotten a good-looking glass-topped table with four chairs that I bought many years ago from Pier One for our sun porch. It had been moved to one of the boys' mutual friends for a while. Sturdy and masculine, and just suitable for his sun porch.

The best food in town, though, is at the Carriage House, where the kitchen is run by Bingo Starr.

I'm a good cook, and it would take considerable practice for me to make food as good as his at home.

I've had lunch with my brother's group there twice. Good times, good times.

I have been spending time with my brother and his friends at the Natchez Coffee Co. on Franklin Street in downtown Natchez.

This morning we shared a bagel and lox for breakfast, served with cream cheese, capers and grape tomatoes. Can you imagine? Delicious bagels and lox in a cozy independent coffee house at the end of the Natchez Trace? I think I'm in love.

A side benefit is that I know many of the people who stop by to chat in the mornings, and I'm meeting new, interesting people every time I visit.

Children and babies are welcome. In fact, there's a quiet, comfortable chair for breastfeeding outside the restrooms and an antique changing table in the women's. Now, whether there's one in the men's, I don't know, but I'm sure the ladies would make way for a gent who wanted to change the baby there.

Far above average, healthy, tasty food at good prices. A real gem.

Now, I know there are better conductors than Andre Rieu, but his orchestra plays waltzes as dance music rather than pure compositions. Waltzes were party music, ballroom music. Music for the feet, not the brain.

I'm telling y'all that this bereavement business is a lotta damn work. I virtually ran a newspaper in Las Colinas. I don't remember being this busy.

I wasn't the only person who loved Lyman and his family.

Naw, I'm not cowering in a fetal position. I'll never replace the man, but I ain't dead yet.

I was with the ladies who lunch at The Castle today, celebrating a close friend's 76th birthday. Our driver, about the best Bridge player around, ordered a dirty martini straight up for lunch. The woman be serious. She drives an outdated Lincoln in pristine condition. (Good Lord, that woman is 81 years old, I just learned. You wouldn't know it by sight.)

Great fun. All five of us loved Lyman. Three of us were widows. Three of us were the babies in families of seven children.

Lyman and I used to go to the birthday girl's house on Christmas Eves to help assemble toys for the grandkids.

Y'all are likely too young to remember that Fleetwood Mac wasn't always fronted by Stevie Nicks.

For you, Chef Tony.

Was that bass player with Roxy Music?

Here's the more beautiful long version.

Charles Gore just asked, "Are you okay, Sweet Baby?" We're going to be fine, you big ol' handsome boy.