This series.

Marquise Hill. He's ours , too.

It's a game.

Great first down play for Oklahoma. Did I tell you I like college football?

14:03 left.

Pick-off. They ain't dead yet.

And who is this David Jones?

Personal foul? Where are your manners, boys?

Holding.

Adai. He's our boy, too.

Oklahoma ain't dead yet.

Marcus Spears intercepted? That kid doesn't handle balls.

Halftime. I put Lucy to bed. This is more craziness than a little girl can stand.

Interception. What a game.

Holding. What a game.

This Vincent kid is really good.

And that's our boy, Michael. Excuse me, down here we call him Mr. Clayton.

And that's our boy, Devery.

Evened up. Lyman isn't talking.

Well, damn. Penalty.

Good coverage, Oklahoma.

Big Daddy has called twice already. "What's the matter with their play-calling?"

Did you know that this game is worth a million dollars a year to Nick Saban?

Geez, what a catch for Runnels.

Holding. Thank goodness.

Granted, I haven't watched Jason White play at all this year, but his eyes don't look good to me, like he doesn't feel well.

That's our boy, Skyler!.

Gaaaaack!

Yikes! Big Daddy and Lyman and the boys and I and James Carville are all pulling for the same team. And they say politics makes strange bedfellows.

I have been in the same room with Nick Saban. He might be an inch or inch and a half taller than me. I'm 5'7". He is handsome and has beautiful, long-fingered hands.

Nothing special, I was also in the room with Gerry Dinardo. New coaches tour Louisiana's fan clubs.

What I can't understand is how that little boy can dominate those 6'6" 300 lb. players.

NOTE: I had a hard time remembering Gerry Dinardo's name, but I will never forget Lou Tepper's.

Moving along here, I received my Burpee seed catalog. I study these things just as I used to study the Sears Christmas Catalog. Gosh, isn't that Moonbeam Coreopsis pretty?

Last night Lyman was watching football. My sister called to ask him some questions about property and law. They have always had a rapport that I've been half-jealous of stemming from their similar senses of humor.

They were on the phone at least half an hour.

At the end of that time, Lyman handed me the phone, and said, "Tell your sister to get a boyfriend and quit calling me on Friday night."

OK, maybe you had to be there.

Lyman and I watched a television show last night featuring Nick Saban, Matt Mauck, Marcus Spears and others. You do know that LSU is playing for the national championship tomorrow. Unless you're from California. But then, you know about those people from California.

Nick Saban took questions from the audience. An older woman with a large purple-feathered hat and an enormous purple boa rose up and thanked Mr. Saban for giving her the thrill of a lifetime. "The last time we played for a national championship, I was a senior at LSU." Big Daddy and I figure that she had to be at least 64.

The best line on the Internet today comes from this story, brought to us by Possumblog:

"Hell of a way to start the New Year, saluting a dead possum," said Steve Barringer, a blacksmith.

Happy New Year, y'all.

I don't do charity work. I should. I have the time. I disagree with Gary Farber often. He is in bad straits. That is MY Paypal button he has on his site. I will be buying the money order for his rent this Friday. If y'all don't help him out to the tune of a dollar or two, I'll make up the difference myself. From Delaware to Kansas, Louisiana to Colorado, it is the season of love.

What are the odds that there was another girl in Bloggerville cutting mustard greens this afternoon with a parrot on her head?

Oh, and I got some kind of yucky respiratory crap that put me to bed for two days. We were right when we were young. Those other kids did have cooties.

What did I get for Christmas? A generous envelope from my in-laws, a Dremel, and a pretty little chest with two nested boxes inside that I once might have called a stash box, but in my mature years call a "decorative accent".

The box really is a pretty thing and goes perfectly well on my coffee table. Michael picked that out. I try to discourage the boys from buying anything for us. When he brought the gift in on Christmas Eve, I started with the "You don't have to buy anything for us. That's not what Christmas is about" speech. He said, "Janis, wait. I just want you to see this." "OK, I'll look at it tomorrow."

When we did the Santa routine the next day, we put it on the bar and he helped me open it because it was tightly taped. He stood over me and instructed me how to look inside to find the smaller boxes. I was delighted. As I told him, it's not something I would have bought, but it suited my taste to a tee. He was thrilled because he had pleased me.

The box is just a box (or three) even if it is exotic, but his thrill was a real gift in the Christmas spirit.

You see, Michael was 25 when Lyman and I married. There's no particular reason for him to pay attention to me.

On the other hand, when Jason came in, he gave me a big hug and said, "I'm sorry, Janis. I've been broke. I don't have a gift for you." "Oh, I don't care, Jason. That's not what Christmas is about."

Way cool, Mr. Stinson. Best wishes.

Tony Woodlief has the first new post up for months. The baby, Eli, is talking now.

This is a loss. Goodbye, Iranian Girl. Be safe. Come back when you will.

Here 's another thing that Nicole brought from her home. Aside from being lovely, and having a pretty voice. Her mother has three children. Nicole has boys on both sides. Her mother saved her change for a couple years and threw it in a box and gave it to the children with a stack of coin wrappers. Nicole loved it.

Shoot, yeah, darlin'. That sounds like home.

For the record, Nicole said, "My family doesn't do stockings. This is fun."

Christmas? "It was the bestest day of my goodest life," as Jason said as a child.

Michael has laid a fire. Lyman's in the kitchen. All is right with the world.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

I remembered something for the kids' stockings that I thought of a long time ago: a book of postage stamps. It's hard for busy young'uns to make it to the post office.

Lucy is harder to buy for. It's Christmas every day for her. I did find a pack of 150 popsicle sticks that should keep her busy for a day or two.

A threat of rain in the south brought us home a day early. Good thing. We had .72 inches last night and the front is heading across our driving path. The trip was good, though we were jammed up at the intersection of 59 and 98 in Hattiesburg, MS. That's a shopping district, and people were lined up at the turn-offs. Made me feel a little better. The weather at the coast was conducive to nothing better than sitting on the balcony, so I haven't accomplished much in the way of shopping.

Time now to go into high gear cleaning, shopping and cooking. There will be seven for dinner on Christmas Day. Michael will come on Christmas Eve, Jason and Nicole on the day, and Lyman's parents are joining us for dinner. And, of course, Lucy. Make that eight.

Must say the drapes are better with a holdback. The new washer-dryer is in. Do you know how much these stack units cost? So that's the bones. This has been a three-year project. Thanks to Ginny and Bob Reynolds of Michigan, who have been patient with us, and Ann and Bill Fitzroy of Mississippi, who have been wonderfully helpful.

Irrelevant question: "Why is the vent hose too short?" Sometimes I want to wring his neck.

The Gulf is beautiful today. Seagulls are bathing in the swimming pool. Lucy is afraid of gulls.

I also don't think a lot of Mark, the maintenance man. But he lost a 16-month-old granddaughter to pneumonia recently. At Christmas.

The drapes are well-made. But I don't like them. I don't like drapes. But I think they are OK for a few years. I'd leave the windows open. But there's a modesty in renters that demands privacy, even on the fifth floor.

We passed a place today in Columbia, Mississippi, with a sign that read "Vernon Beale OK Body Shop".

Discuss.

I've been tummy-tossing sick. Today I feel like I've been stuffed in a tow sack and beaten against a fence post.

Tomorrow, we depart for the coast a for few days to replace the washer-dryer stack unit and look at the drape$. Renters tell us we need to install some kind of hold-back for the one in the living room. Then there's a bit of stocking shopping to do.

Here are gorgeous gifts for the person who has everything.

Given the behavior of his sons, he is lucky that he was taken by men soldiers.

On my mother's deathbed, my sister, sister-in-law and I talked about his family. We have daughters, collectively.

Egads, that's done, except for the dishwashing. Next year this stops. No reason this meal can't be served at 6 rather than noon.

I do have problems with girl stuff. For Christmas, I want a pair of cross-trainers and a Dremel.

I've heard through the grapevine that the lovely Nicole will be joining us for Christmas Eve. Story goes that she and Jason will come here for the 24th then travel back the two hours to Ponchatoula to spend Christmas Day with her family.

Of course, I don't know this officially. I just wash sheets and cook and make sure young'uns feel welcome, all within an hour's notice.

I'm not comfortable with the thought of buying her a gift, but I will be happy to give her a stocking. The boys get one every year, and this year Lucy will, too. In the boys' stockings I put pens and notepads and toothbrushes and Chapstick (so they'll stay out of mine) and emory boards and other assorted useful junk. What to put in the stocking of a good-looking 23-year-old woman? I mean, apart from condoms?

Now, for Miss Francesca. I'd like to say I'm not impressed with the upholstery attachment to the Hoover Steam Vac. But I think it's just because my first use was a little sloppy. Better judgment will reduce what I thought was leakiness. Such spots as I treated are gone, though I think I could have done as well with a spot cleaner. (You must understand, in a fit of madness and over-optimism I bought furniture in off-white chenille.)

I started this experiment at about noon. Such fabrics as I cleaned are nearly dry. In another hour or so they should be dry. And that's in a house with 46% humidity. (Yo, Lyman's weather station.)

And, well, shoot, since I had the machine out anyway I did another run on the worst traffic area in our bedroom. Had I the time, I might have popped outside and done a car or two. Once you drag it out, it's a little addictive. Go for it.

I owe Mr. Smith an answer to a question that he asked in October. What would Lucy eat in the wild, I think he meant.

According to this expert she would eat nuts, fruits, berries, leaf buds, and blossoms when available. He says they don't often feed at ground level, unless their population has lived on the edge of a village for some time.

I've read in other sources that the reason African Greys are so smart is that they ARE ground-feeders and need to keep their wits at all times.

A little story in The Baton Rouge Advocate includes this bit:

Perhaps the only disappointed member of the LSU family was Saban's 13-year-old daughter, Kristen, who was hoping to ring in the New Year in Pasadena, Calif., the site of the Rose Bowl. That the Tigers will play for a national championship was apparently lost on her.

"She wanted to go to California," Saban said wryly. "None of that matters to her. It's strictly geography."

Lyman thinks that she might not be the only one disappointed. New Orleans businesses would have preferred an OU-USC matchup. Hotels, restaurants and souvenirs, you know.

Uh oh. Lucy has another appointment with Dr. Debbie today. Her wing feathers have grown enough that she swooped up to the kitchen the other day. I can just see a crash-landing on the dining table set with Lyman's grandmother's china Friday afternoon if we don't take care of this now. Last time the experience nearly killed her. Hope it's better today.

LATER: That was okay. The vet used the same room as the first time Lucy visited, and just clipped her wings. Toenails and beak will come later. Lucy is still taking a nap, though.

My father-in-law, Big Daddy, 84, is a fine, warm, sensitive Christian gentleman who tries to do right in all things. It's kicking him pretty hard that he has to attend a Christmas party in Alexandria tonight rather than pile up in bed and watch the SEC Championship game with Georgia.

And the boys are in a wedding at 4:30 in New Orleans this afternoon. Wonder what that reception will look like?

Time to bring in the Norfolk pine and dress it up for Christmas. We started a live Christmas tree tradition in this house nine years ago. We buy a small one, then use it until it grows too tall to fit in the house. Our patio out back seems to provide a perfect environment for these trees. They grow by leaps and bounds. The one we bought two years ago as a 3 ft. runt is now well over my head.

The unhappy thing is that they eventually grow too tall to bring in or protect and fall to a freeze. Sometime this season we are going to buy a Leyland cypress, which can survive such cold as we have in this climate. When these guys grow too tall we can plant them in the yard to replace some of the 40-year-old pines that are dying.

I love my living trees.

Lyman has his Christmas present, and he is thrilled. He is talking about it with his friends. It's a weather station. He chose it, but he falls into my hands.

NOAA will be glad to have the information. I've long said that we under the Natchez bluff have a unique microclimate. Now we'll measure it.

I've just returned from having my hair trimmed by the sweet auburn Nancy, and understand that I need to institute a "Gray Watch". Gray 1, Brunette the rest. It really doesn't bother me much. I've thought for several years that I'd earned a stripe or two.

Indigo has a new post up, crammed with amusing stuff. I like the Subject: Air Force story.

Now, about that pie. As I said, it looked pretty. It also tasted good, even if the filling was runny. The crust was remarkable, especially considering that such readers as come here have borne and reared children in the interval since I last made a homemade crust. I attribute that success to a recipe I found in this cookbook, Cooking with Cajun Women. Here it is, with all respect and thanks to Ms. Mazel Lassiegne:

Never-Fail Pie Crust

1-1/4 cups shortening
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg, beaten
5 tablespoons cold water
1 tablespoon vinegar

Cut shortening into flour and salt. Mix well. Combine egg, water and vinegar. Pour liquid mixture into flour mixture all at once. Blend with spoon just until flour is all moistened. Form into two portions. This pastry can be re-rolled without toughening. Will keep in refrigerator for two weeks, until you are ready to fill the crust. Makes two 9-inch pie crusts or one 9-inch double crust.

Oh, and the pie was a little sharp tasting. But that can be remedied with a scoop of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream.

Meredith has a good story about life on the farm.

That's all done. Now I can wish you a happy Thanksgiving!

As I set the pie in the oven, I realized I left the flour out of the filling. D'oh. There's always Mrs. Smith's.

But it looks really pretty.

Why is it that when this house needs to come up to speed Lyman's IQ drops 25 points?

LATER: I'm really complaining that he doesn't have the common sense to keep out of my way. "Sweetie, can you help me with this?" doesn't cut it.

Neither does "I need to call Frank, whom I haven't seen since last January and is undoubtably on his way in his RV to the Ole Miss ballgame" when I am trying to vacuum the living room cut it.

Happy birthday, Mr. Smith!

Happy birthday, Mr. Schranck!

Hey, you say. Why aren't y'all having fried turkey?

The kit is going to Lyman's sister's house, so her son can earn his rite of passage to manhood in Louisiana. He is about 25, I think. It's past time.

By the way, how would you phrase that?
earn his manhood?
undergo rite of passage?

A lesser-known delicacy particularly good for small groups is fried cornish game hen, prepared just as you would turkey but cooked a shorter time. You can cook a few of these for, say, a threesome or foursome.

Older son is coming for Thanksgiving. Questions are resolved. Menu: homemade yeast rolls, shrimp cocktail, salad with mustard vinaigrette, Chicken Francese, fresh vegetable casserole, oven-roasted potatoes, apple-cranberry pie. This will be a run for the Christmas luncheon we do for Lyman's siblings and parents in December.

I am privileged to live within blocks of one of the great rivers of the world. City fathers have worked their magic to secure funds (your dollars) to build a walkway within a puny stone's throw of this great river.

My sister is an avid walker who loves to walk in this town. She praised the riverwalk to no end when she was here in March. I want to do it, too.

I need me some shoes. Walkin' shoes.

That's my Christmas present. What do you suggest?

Thanksgiving. For ten years, we or I have packed the car and gone to Dallas for Thanksgiving to spend time with my Mother. Lyman's boys have travelled to Dallas to spend time with their mother. This year is different.

Mother is gone, and work is keeping the boys close to home. The younger is off to Ponchatoula to spend the day with his girlfriend's family. Michael hasn't said. Lyman's parents have an invitation to his sister's house.

Maybe we should drive to Baton Rouge and go out to eat with Michael?

Politics, they say, are personal in Louisiana, and Lyman told me a story today that confirms it. One of our lifelong friends, a Democrat, voted for Kathleen Blanco because "[she] couldn't get over the feeling that he [Jindal] looked like he would have allegiance to Iraq, or Iran, or one of them places".

That is beyond racism as we know it in the south. That is xenophobia.

There were good reasons for her to vote against Jindal. He is Republican. He is a newcomer. He is young to have the "gravitas" to carry office. He holds social views that she may not like. She's wary of people who use big words.

But she said she didn't like that he's an Indian. That's because Lyman told her that the man was neither Iraqi, nor Iranian, but Indian.

And that's how it is in rural Louisiana.

Oh, my.

I would like to second the call in this post by Scott Chaffin. Alex Del Castillo of New Orleans, what is your reaction to the election in Louisiana?

My own is that we could have done worse. Ms. Blanco has a reputation for ethical administration of her offices. She, in her role as lieutenant governor, developed working relationships with areas across the state, including ours. She won't do harm.

I thought Jindal was more interesting and smarter.

We'll see.

LATER: Alex added a comment to the post cited above at Scott's.

Janis Gore, Independent since 1976.

The Baton Rouge Advocate runs a story today about the national perception of the governor's race. I like this part:

"It sends a tremendously progressive message about the state," Bob DeRocker, a New York-based site selection consultant who specializes in finding sites for corporate expansions and relocations, said of the gubernatorial race. "You contrast that with 12 years ago, where you have, by Edwin Edwards' own characterization, as [sic] the race between The Wizard and The Lizard."

You'll remember David Duke was in that race.

Back to my assessment of the Hoover Steamvac Deluxe. We, the machine and I, tackled the high traffic areas in the master and the guest bedroom.

The carpet in the guest bedroom, where there is little traffic on the 14-year-old synthetic, looks nearly new. In the master, carpet the same age looks clean (without any pre-treatment, but highest detergent recommended) but matted some after all these years.

I finished the job at about 1 pm. It's a little damp underfoot, but I think we'll be able to walk on it before bedtime.

These carpets were last cleaned professionally about 5 years ago after we painted the rooms. I've done spot cleaning over the years, but nothing beats a proper cleaning.

So far, I'm very pleased with the machine. I wish I'd had it ten years ago when I moved into this house. A run every two or three months would have kept traffic areas much spiffier.

Now it's on to the upholstery attachment.

Healing Iraq seems to be the Iraqi blog best keeping track of new Iraqi bloggers.

If you don't read Indigo Insights regularly, you're missing some entertaining and thoughtful stuff. If you like dogs, don't miss the video at the top of this post. Dancing with Wolves ... bah!

So, I'm talking to my brother, the gay one, you know, the Vietnam war vet, and he says, "I must say it's a little disconcerting to watch Jindal speak in a southern accent. It seems out of place until you remember that he was born in Baton Rouge." (My brother also told me that well-made drapes in good fabric should last 15 years.)

The Indian couple, the Patels, who own the local Budget Inn up on the highway have a political statement -- for the first time I remember -- on their marquee: "Vote Bobby Jindal for governor".

Pakistanis in north Louisiana have formed a group and contributed to Kathleen Blanco's campaign.

A north Louisianan writing in the forum at nola.com wrote "I've heard people say 'A choice between a sand-nigger and a woman? I ain't going to vote.'"

The candidates are pointing at each other and claiming "Negative ad! Negative ad!" and the political scientists are saying they haven't seen anything negative yet. (See post below.)

It's sort of an interesting race for there to be two candidates with not a quarter's worth of difference in their positions.

I'm voting for Jindal because he's young and smart. But I'll bet you that quarter that Blanco wins. It's a Democratic state, after all.

In the midst of a dreary article about negative campaigning in The Times Picayune comes this little gem about real negative campaigning in a governor's race:

Many point to Edwin Edwards' first race for governor in 1971, which included a minor candidate named Warren J. "Puggy" Moity, who ran an infamous Sunday morning television show devoted to political mudslinging. He harped on Edwards and called him gay. Edwards later neutralized the accusations by strolling up to Moity at a political forum and kissing him on the cheek.

Will any candidate ever match Edwards' color again?

I keep going back to this post at Dr. Joyner's. An excerpt from the link:

The stimulation of the emotional centres shows that shopping is a stress relief. People do not have to think, and the brain rewards them with pleasurable feelings. By shopping, they are bypassing stress and just going with the pleasurable flow,'' he added.

Isn't even the most mundane shopping a form of stress relief? Who isn't greatly relieved when they replenish their toilet tissue supply? Or coffee? Or bath soap? Or milk?

Surely this item contains a misprint:

A crazed carjacker was served a generous helping of tea, but absolutely no sympathy, by an elderly woman whose Mercedes-Benz he tried messing with in Mashpee, police charged.

Mark Corkery, 32, of Sandwich was ordered held on $10,000 cash bail yesterday at his arraignment in Falmouth District Court. Police said his getaway was foiled when the scrappy senior splashed hot tea on his face and beaned him with a mug that shattered.

``I said, `Get out of my damn car now,' '' Jean Ridino, 57, of Waltham told WBZ-TV (Ch. 4). ``He never even bled. I thought he was a robot.''

Granted, at 57 Ms. Ridino might be no spring chicken, but elderly? Give the girl a break.

Link via Obscure Store.

The weather has crossed me again. 88 percent humidity today suggests that it's not the best time to try the new Hoover on bedroom carpets.

Oh, yuck! We bought a Hoover SteamVac Deluxe.

Today was its first run on area rugs we use in front of the sink and stovetop. No, there were two runs. The first produced a waste that was close to mud. The second, a waste that was a couple of steps clearer. I like it.

LATER: I'd forgotten how much I like the colors in these rugs.

Election Notes from The Times Picayune includes an interesting interchange between Mayor Nagin of New Orleans, a Democrat who endorses Bobby Jindal for Governor, and Democrat Senator Mary Landrieu:

New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin accused U.S. Sen. Mary Landrieu of hypocrisy Tuesday after she suggested he had betrayed the Democratic Party with his endorsement of Republican Bobby Jindal for governor. Landrieu, who is backing Democrat Kathleen Blanco, issued a statement Monday saying she was "surprised and disappointed" that Nagin would support a candidate "whose national party advocates the lowering of the minimum wage, cutting of health care and underfunding of education reform efforts." On a radio show and through a spokesman Tuesday, Nagin pointed out that Landrieu had touted her own support of President Bush and his GOP administration while campaigning for re-election last year. "The mayor and many other Democrats were just as surprised when Landrieu took a stance in the runoff for Senate that she voted 74 percent of the time with President Bush," said Nagin spokesman Patrick Evans, echoing the mayor's comments on a radio show Tuesday morning. Nagin also said Landrieu failed to endorse Democrat Cleo Fields against Republican Mike Foster after she was edged out of the 1995 gubernatorial runoff by Fields. A spokesman for Landrieu declined to comment on Nagin's response. "We'll just stick with the (Monday) statement," said Mark Mintz. "Going tit-for-tat is not in the best interests of anybody."

Well, I guess not, Mary.

We're home. I know this will sound ungrateful, but ten days cooped up in a small apartment with vibrant personalities like Lyman and Lucy, with the surf pounding relentlessly, is a little too long. By about half, I'd say.

A new place has appeared in Gulf Shores for entertainment. It's called Paint 'N Parrot, and is a shop where you can select a pottery piece, paint it onsite and have it fired to pick up later. It's a bit expensive (what isn't down here) at $8 hour and the cost of the raw pottery piece, but the $8 includes all paint and firing. It's advertised as a place for birthday parties, wedding showers, and other group projects. We stopped by today. The woman running it is a short fat woman, willing to talk about any subject all day. She told us to bring our adult beverages and paint to our hearts' content. A group of women had come in a few days ago from 5:30 to 9:00 and not finished painting. We declined, but put her flyer and card in our activity book. It's an interesting notion, and I wish her well.

Just down the way there was a display that bothered me. People like the art I chose for this condo. The front room is filled with Harrison's art. It's a little weird, but it's in the right colors and it suits my taste. It's painted on wood composite with rough frames. Our guests like it. There are a couple of Florida artists who are trying to replicate the effect (who knows? Maybe one is Jerry Harrison) down to the angularity of the signature. I saw one small piece, a village scene, that I liked. I like the work here better.

Fun beach reading is Paperback Writer by Stephen Bly.

Nate McCord describes Halloween in Utah as snowy. Halloween snowy? Chilly, maybe, but snowy?

That's unimaginable to me. What costumes do trick-or-treaters wear in the snow?

So, I'm looking around the place, checking on needed repairs and such, and I notice that somehow two bits of weaving are missing on the Henry Link television cabinet. I mention the name to let you know that this is tough stuff. So someone has whacked it hard or spent time removing those bits. Hmmm ...

Someone of our acquaintance has gone the extra step and added fabric softener to the load of dish towels they washed, making them nearly useless in the kitchen. That's a peeve. I use no fabric softener anywhere in the laundry. I have yet to figure out what it's good for besides fragrance.