African Grey parrots have the reputation for being smart, but watch this macaw.

The tape is in French. If that bothers you, turn the sound down.

Margaret is one of the great names for women. What did her friends call her, Frederick?

What did you call her? I called mine "Mother". She was tired of "Mama" many years ago.

Everyone, including grandchildren, calls Lyman's mother "Girl".

It's no fun at all going south if you can't go all Tennessee Williams, now, is it?

Do di do, ah, do di do.

Wait just a damn minute, Gary Post-Tribune.

20,000 people from across the nation didn't descend on Jena, Louisiana, because they thought it was a problem unique to the Deep South. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson were explicit in their motives regarding the march in Jena: to call attention to racially unfair prosecution across the country.

Why they couldn't do that at home is a different question, and I don't know enough to go there.

However, a little point Gary might take into consideration is from this article in the Concordia Sentinel:

While hate groups exist all over the country, it is erroneous to say the Ku Klux Klan still operates here, Ingram said, adding that the only Klan organization he knows of today is in Indiana.

Stanley Nelson is investigating a 60's Klan murder in Ferriday.

UPDATE: That goes for you, too, John Mellencamp.

Mostly Cajun has one of the best Boudreaux jokes I've read in a long time. And it's clean!

I visited my new doctor's office this morning. More get acquainted stuff, mainly, with a liquid nitrogen treatment of a seborrheic keratosis that had emerged on my back.

The doctor is one of five doctors in the clinic. The waiting room is large, and today, cold. Is this one of those buildings that's cold in the summer and hot in the winter?

Charlie was carrying on in his cage before I left this morning. His most-used phrase now is "Mr. Wolf," most often done as a call. He might howl or might not.

So in a seamless transition from home to doctor's office, the first patient called after I arrived was Mr. Wolf.

I woke this morning to an e-mail from the director of Warnings. He was googling his name and found this entry from last year.

It's been over 25 years since we've exchanged greetings.

We're painting, off and on. Then trying to mollify the birds, because neither of them takes kindly to being banished to the back room while paint fumes subside.

Lyman had a birthday on September 12. He is 61.

We're watching Florida State play Colorado.

Jimbo Fisher left his position as offensive coordinator for LSU to go to Florida State.

"Why?" I asked.

"He may become head coach when Bobby Bowden retires," he said.

"How old is he?" I asked.

"I don't know. He's younger than I am."

"Nearly everybody is younger than you are."

We are painting. Later.

Some scientists discount Dr. Pepperberg's work with Alex. Let me see ...

Let's look at this article, this paragraph:

Pepperberg's research remains controversial, with some skeptics maintaining that Alex's apparent mastery of language revealed nothing more than a very sophisticated version of conditioned responses. Pepperberg says that is hard to reconcile with such findings as Alex's 80% accuracy in counting objects. In her peer-reviewed papers, she has said that he seemed to have intelligence comparable to a five-year-old child, but emotional behaviour more like a two-year-old.

My readers know that Charlie goes "bonk." He even calls himself a "bonky boy." That means that he falls, with a noise. Sometimes that noise is "splat," and he winds up in the vet's office.

He's well enough to come out of the cage now. The other night, he was on the top rung of the Parrot Tower. Lyman set part of an ear of corn between the dishes there at the top.

Charlie piddled with it for a while, then it dropped to the tray with a loud noise. Charlie said, "Charlie go bonk." Well, he did make it go bonk.

If that was a "sophisticated conditioned response," maybe all of our language is based on "sophisticated conditioned responses."

Fritz Schranck has returned to blogging after attending to family matters.

He offers a memorial to 9/11 from Blue Man Group.

(Thank you, Mr. Schranck.)

Oh, no! Alex died. He was 31.

According to Dr. Irene Pepperberg, his last words to her were on last Thursday night:

You be good, see you tomorrow. I love you.

In other parrot news, Lucy laid an egg on the evening of September 9.

UPDATE: There seems to be some confusion about Alex's last words. They might have been, "You'll be in tomorrow."

(Thanks, Mr. Farber.)

No investigation at all has been done about the arson at the Jena high school, from what I can tell. Who has an interest in the new building?

Your Personality Cluster is Introverted Intuition

You are: Multilayered and complex Inspired and driven to achieve your goals A visionary with a complete life plan Intuitive enough to understand difficult problems, ideas, and people

What's Your Personality Cluster?

If you say so, but I think those four questions provide a thin dataset for a personality evaluation.

(Thanks, Diane.)

I have been reading a bit about the Jena 6. It's a big, messy story about Jena, a little town west of Vidalia.

What people will put in comments sections amazes me. In the comments of this account, oh, about 1/4 of the way down on the right scrollbar, you'll find someone who blames the whole business on -- who else -- "the Jews."

I say, let's blame it on global warming. It all started with a shade tree, didn't it?

UPDATE: And to defuse the situation for the new school year, the administrators cut down the tree.

My, my.

Roscoe the tiger, now Mike VI of LSU, is doing very well.

He's playing in his new environment like a 330 pound kitten, which he is.



He doesn't seem to be oppressed.

See, I can catblog, too.

Meh. I'll give it a shot anyway.

Shellie Tomlinson doesn't seem to get bent if I steal something something from her so long as she gets credit. Here's something from her letter file today:

Dear Shellie,

I heard that Bubba went to the local revival. When the minister finished his sermon, he invited anyone that needed a special prayer to come forward. Bubba got in line and when his turn came, the minister asked him what he needed a prayer for. Bubba stated that he needed a special prayer for his hearing. The minister placed one finger in Bubba's ear, the other hand on Bubba's head and prayed. When he finished, he asked Bubba if that helped his hearing. Bubba said he didn't know yet because the hearing wasn't till next week in Baton Rouge.

Bob Barrett in Oak Grove, LA

Thanks to Medpundit for proving, once again, that the Internet is a wondrous place.

Charlie has learned to say "Mister Wolf." He also does a serviceable howl.

Clever boy that he is, yesterday he combined the two: "Mr. Wooo-oooooo-oooooooo-ooolf."

I hadn't thought of that.

Getting ready for some football

30 pounds of raw peanuts on the boil to make snacks for the season. They'll soak in salted water to taste, drain, then be frozen for later use. There's another 30 pound sack, too.

Boiled peanuts were new to me when I came South.

The September issue of Southern Living magazine has recipes for boiled peanuts and one for boiled peanut hummus. (Pssst! Chick peas are cheaper and easier.)

Lyman's son e-mailed this rhapsody to Southern football by Wright Thompson.

Neither here nor there, except for this phrase, which I haven't heard before:

... messier than a small town divorce ...

I have read quite a bit about the Senator Craig incident, and scores of comments.

Many people find themselves "disgusted," or offended at the breach of etiquette, or consider his behavior a breach of privacy. But I haven't seen one comment that mentioned the word "modesty."

Has the word totally dropped from the vocabulary?

My sense of modesty is offended by the whole notion of "stall sex" in public restrooms, and I suspect that's true for many others. But they no longer have the word to express it.

Alrighty, then. The new utility bill has come.

I am embarrassed to report that last year's usage for 7/13 to 8/13 was 2797 kW. This year's is 1848. That is a 32 nearly 34 percent improvement.

However, part of that decrease was due to July being unusually cool this year. We had many overcast or rainy days with below normal temperatures. The temperatures for the 12 or 13 days of August included in this bill were average or above, a few of them record highs.

Next month's bill promises to be the whopper this year. All of August has been hot.

While I have sealed the air supply boots to the drywall in the ceiling, I still haven't sealed the recessed can lights. That comes with painting the ceiling, which, as it turns out, has come back to me. And I haven't been up to it.

UPDATE: There should be some calculations I can do using degree days. Can any of you tell me how that would work? I'm thinking something along the lines of kW-baseload/degree days. Or something. Anything besides messing with fire-resistant caulk around the lights that I don't have trim-sets for.

I saw Boz Scaggs in Fort Worth when I was young woman, maybe 21. He was one sexy boy in his day. Here he is in 2004.

Ain't those backup singers cool?

Much to the chagrin of PETA, LSU has obtained a new tiger to become the mascot for the school.

Roscoe, soon to be renamed Mike VI, is a Siberian-Bengal mix who will grow to 700 pounds. At two, he's only 300 pounds.

Look at those paws.

He'll live here, and have the best veterinary care that LSU can offer.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I missed the demise of the "Queen of Mean", who died on August 20.

She was generous to her friend.

It's not such a bad thing.

I'm ready to run errands.

I just finished a seven-day course of antibiotics and steroids after that vicious head cold descended into my chest. I'm confident that I can attend to business without horrifying the public by hacking up my spleen.

There is no virtue in my rising at 5:30 a.m.

I might have overcome the odd and weirdly familiar dream of all those blond people in the big house.

A bathroom run in the early hours isn't unusual or particularly disruptive.

But the mosquito was a particularly persistent and annoying one.

Hail to the mornin'. Now run along and leave me alone.

Welcome rain.

In her message, Charlotte included her cell number. I called and spoke to her.

She told me that she spoke to an owner who consulted an interior decorator regarding her one-bedroom condominium. The decorator said she would do it for $30,000, and quoted $3000 for a bedspread.

What makes a $3000 bedspread?

The bedspread at the condo is missing. The rental agency doesn't know why.

But do you know what? I just received a note from Charlotte today. She's now at Island Interiors.

I might even have Youngblood Hawke on the bookshelf. It was one of my father's books.

I lived in New York City between fall of 1978 and Christmas of 1983. Mr. Drum, in the city were two or three Mexican restaurants, none of them good. It was easier to find good Cajun food there than Mexican, or for me, Tex-Mex. What was the name of the place on Ninth Avenue? Or was it Tenth?

I transferred my love of spicy Tex-Mex to Indian without much regret.

Now the spicy comes from Cajun, and I miss both the others.

Oh, Mr. Edwards, please get real:

Will we halt global warming, protect our environment and humanity from the cataclysmic consequences of inaction and leave our children a livable world rich in the resources that were left to us?

One way to start is to not build a 28,000 square foot housing and recreation complex for a single family on previously timbered land.

Just a thought. I know that's small potatoes in the big scheme of things, but I've always understood it helps if we each do our small part.

You Are a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

You life your life in a free form, artistic style. You are incredibly creative and at times, quite messy. Deep down, you are a kid at heart. And you aren't afraid to express it. Your best friend: The Grilled Cheese Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Club Sandwich

What Kind of Sandwich Are You?

(Thanks, Diane.)

The Chauncey Bailey story gets uglier everyday.

Here's something from BET.

More from the San Francisco Chronicle.

I clean my bathroom floors on my knees.

Yesterday, when I went in to finish up the floor in the back, there was a tiny pink lizard, about 1-3/4", underneath the kick space of the vanity.

I looked around, and the only thing I could find to contain it was an empty Rolaids bottle. So I chased it around and picked it up, and put it outside on the grass.

I thought, "All that calcium can't be good for a baby." So I changed the faucet to "mist" and washed him down.

I hope I didn't drown him.

How did he come in? The windows are sealed. He was 60 feet from a door.

Kate has news!

If a picture is worth a thousand words, this little guy expresses my reaction to the truncation of Terry Oglesby's Possumblog.

I found this charmer at National Geographic News.

Charlie is having fun working on Mr. Wolf. We're using the lone wolf howl example #1 here.

Ahem. Mr. Reynolds, if your wife is going to put good knives in the dishwasher, I'd suggest going with the Forschners. They're inexpensive and easy to replace.

I'm still working with my 10-inch Calphalon, but it is heavy. I plan to replace it with a Forschner when necessary.

Maybe I'll purchase a 12-inch for Christmas. That will keep the boys in line.

At the recommendation of a young man who works offshore, I have added Crown Weather Services to my bookmarks.

Lucy laid another egg last night. Let's say August 16.

I've been reading police procedurals authored by Peter Robinson.

I'm not reading them in sequence, so I was surprised to find that Inspector Banks and his wife Sandra are separated in this book. I didn't see it coming. Last I read, they were getting along fine.

What is it with these crime writers who divorce or kill off spouses? Are they undergoing similar trauma in their own lives? Wishful thinking?

Lucy laid an egg on August 13 or 14. (Sometime during that night.) It was her first since June.

High temperatures on August 10, 11, 12, 13, and 14 broke records in Vidalia.

Our thermometer showed a high of 105F yesterday, three degrees above accuweather.com's posted high.

No rain in sight to cool things down.

Today the meter reader comes.

I looked up the method to read our five-dial electric meter, and if my reading is right, we'll come in at least 25 percent below last year's electric usage for this month. That will mean a savings of near $70 or more on the bill, which should arrive about the 20th.

Now we're talking. It's been warm all of August so far and screaming hot the past four days, with several more top temperatures expected this week.

If I'm reading it wrong, the things we've done have actually raised our energy usage over last year's, and I can't believe that.

UPDATE: At 1:48 p.m., our thermometer is showing 103F.

I woke at 3:30 a.m. with a full-blown head cold.

It's been ages since I've had one, and I'm a big, whiny, snot-nosed baby.

Guests are due for dinner tonight.

Charlie's got the bonk.

I just noticed that he is 2-1/2 years old today.

(44 seconds)

So we tried something new in the kitchen last night, and it was quick and tasty.

We started with the "Linguine Roma" recipe on the side of a box of American Italian linguine and made a few changes.

1/4 cup olive oil
1 large chopped onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
5 anchovy fillets, crushed
4 tbsp. capers
2 cans diced tomatoes
2 tsp. red pepper flakes
1 cup kalamata olives, roughly chopped
2 packets tuna, or 2 cans, drained
Salt and pepper to taste
Prepared linguine

Heat olive oil in a large skillet (we used a Dutch oven). Saute onion until transparent.

Add garlic, anchovies and capers. Saute for one minute.

Add tomatoes, red pepper, and olives. Simmer for 10 minutes or so. (Lyman added a little water here. He likes "juicy" food.)

Add tuna. Salt and pepper to taste. Simmer a minute or two.

Now you can either add the cooked pasta to the sauce, or spoon the sauce over pasta. We did the latter.

Nothing to it, and it was remarkably good for so little trouble.

Poor Lyman can't get credit for anything. Travis is his dad.

Boy, is the mail ever slow going out that way. A week?

I'll go back to read all of this post, but for now, I remember a conversation between the two oldest nephews in our family. It went something like this:

"And yeah, what about those girls who order a $25 steak from the menu, then eat a couple of bites?"

"Then they look at you like you're a cheapskate because you want a doggie bag."

Dr. Frank is watching the the Oakland case, too. I hadn't seen the article mentioned in this post.

He lives in Oakland.

Noooo!

Charlie went bonk again.

UPDATE: I don't know how he hit so hard, but his beak shows impact, too.

So he's been shaved a bit, and washed and Betadined and creamed and stuck with a needle, with the same routine coming up again tomorrow. But no collar!

Poor little birdie boy.

When is the last time I had a deep-fried pork chop?

Last night, if you must know, with a side of fresh green beans simmered with hamhock and new potatoes, fresh sliced tomatoes and hot-water cornbread.

Chris Thompson, the writer of the two stories cited below in the Chauncey Bailey murder, tells of intimidation by the Oakland group here.

And Christopher Hitchins has shot some people off on anti-Muslim tirades that aren't appropriate. Matt Zeitlin, unknown to me, and found through technorati.com, makes some sense.

Why am I ragging on Mr. Bailey's murder? Because killing the messenger isn't usually done in this country. Not this way.

UPDATE: An AP report on charges filed against the group.

I have to say, this massage chair looks more intimidating than relaxing.

It looks like a padded electric chair -- "Ol Sparky" goes upscale.

Or could be a "mandated-procedure" dental chair.

There is a curious story out of Oakland, CA, involving the murder of a newspaper editor.

When did we last hear of a newspaperman being murdered in the US because of his work? I can't remember.

UPDATE: Here is a story about journalists assassinated in the US.

UPDATE II: See the two articles mentioned in this comment to get a fix on the organization Mr. Bailey was investigating.

UPDATE III: Shanikka at Political Sapphire has a good round-up and a rant.

Jane Galt is a little off in this post.

Not having children is for me, a Nail-Patella mutant, a way of cleaning up the gene pool and avoiding a massive burden.

I have been successful in avoiding pregnancies all my life. It's called "contraception," and should be available to all at-risk women.

Now, motherly women of my status, women with the NPS genetic defect, have the option of in-vitro fertilization with a DNA scan to reject embryos that carry the gene.

I think that's good.

Who are you to chance the child I would have to rear?

Colby Cosh has posted an SCTV tribute to Ingmar Bergman.

I remember Count Floyd fondly.

Lyman's parents are coming for fried bream and catfish this evening.

Today is their 66th wedding anniversary.

By way of Radley Balko, I found the Lost in America site.

Which led to a search for a picture of this cool 1960 Plymouth dashboard.

Lyman found ten crisp $20s and a one dollar bill neatly folded in the parking lot at Wal-mart yesterday.

He came home and called the manager.

"I found some money in the parking lot. I won't tell you how much it is, but it's over $100."

The manager took his name and number, and said he would turn it over to the service desk with the note that Lyman had found some money.

Mrs. A called tonight. That was her 24th anniversary mad money. The check will go out tomorrow to east Mississippi.

About that change of e-mail there on the left. That is a secondary account.

The one in your files still works, too.

Discussion below turned to roofs.

Here is an article from 2004 about developing more reflective asphalt shingles.

By the time we're in the market, maybe these will be a reality. Maybe they already are. Much as I like the idea of the metal roof, we'd be the only house on the street with one, except for the historic house a few blocks up.

My brother drove up in a brand new car to collect a package of shrimp creole and fresh tomatoes today.

"Let me see your car," I said.

It looks much the same, different color, with the same good angle and good light for plucking eyebrows.

"I found out, waiting for you, that this car provides a perfect situation for plucking eyebrows. May I pluck my eyebrows in your car?"

What a weak, smiling "no".

There are other African Greys on the 'net. Thank you, Burd.

Charlie is just beginning to work on Old McDonald's farm. The only animal on Mr. McDonald's farm so far is a duck.

Charlie's duck gets around a little more than the usual duck on the farm, and needs a kiss every once in a while.

Hmmm. I'm looking over the new utility bill. This one covers the period 6/13 to 7/13.

Again, we've made a mid-cycle change. I finished the project on July 3.

This year's usage is 2062 kW compared to last year's 2278 for the same period -- a savings of about 9.5 percent.

We still haven't done the ceiling work which will entail sealing up the leaks around the air supply boots and recessed lights. I plan to do that this week.

According to my calculations (100w X 24 hours X 30 days=72,000w, 72,000/1000w=72kW), changing out the recessed light bulbs over the bar should save up to 72 kW a month, which is nothing to ignore -- about 3.5 percent of this month's usage.

After that, there's not a lot more we can do before we replace the old clothes dryer when it's needed. It would no doubt help to replace the air-conditioning unit we bought in 1996, but it's working fine.

Our base electrical load, i.e. without the air conditioner, was as low as 1011 kW in the winter months. The bill covering 7/13 to 8/13 is historically the highest around here. Yikes, you should have seen it when we had the swimming pool.

Mr. Byrd, the auditor, said that given the shade around this house, the new insulated windows will likely show their utility more in the winter months when we will be comparing natural gas usage.

This post begins my sixth year of blogging.

Out of the blue, Lyman started whistling this song today.

Neither of us could think of its name or who performed it. We both listened to Herb Alpert when we were younger, though. My family owned that album.

We thought it was instrumental. I started by looking at Ventures recordings.

I still like it.

UPDATE: And for some reason, I remember that Ventures Telstar album cover, but I don't remember having that at home. Maybe we did. I certainly remember Green Onions.

Here we go. There were about three minutes to the whole encounter, all of the same tone.

I like the way Lucy flounces off the screen and Charlie looks at the camera -- "What'd I do?"

(1 minute 18 seconds)

Tomorrow morning, I'll try to edit and upload a tape of a solicitation of allopreening gone all wrong.

I had the camera set up to record Charlie singing "We've got the bonk," but he was more interested in the camera than singing.

Then Lucy came along. You'll see that Charlie could use some improvement in the art of persuasion.

UPDATE: More background on allopreening.

Steven Taylor points to the story on Queen's guitarist working on earning a doctorate in astrophysics.

Mr. Brian May is 60. Not the usual path for an aging rock star.

For Charlie:



I think she's one of the best girl rock singers, even if this is a lousy recording.

All in all, I like this guy on CFLS.

I'm not so sure about that incandescent surcharge. We have a lot of people in our region struggling by. There's a lot of difference between a 25 cent light bulb and a $2 light bulb when the bills come in.

Here is a video of Charlie for you to listen to. These are just a couple of moments from a 14 minute tape.

Charlie seems to making this sound at will. Again, he seems in perfect health.

(1 minute 33 seconds)

The incandescent lightbulbs in the recessed lights over the bar finally blew. These lights are on 24 hours a day.

We replaced them with Lowe's Bright Effects CFL bulbs that we bought at the coast in May.

The color of the light is good, but it is much brighter than the incandescents that we used there. We'll need to shop for the next step down, I think. We can save these to use over the sink.

UPDATE: Hah. We changed the dimmer out to a straight switch to use these bulbs. Now I can't find a lower wattage R30, but there are dimmable R30s. At a formidable price, I might add. Maybe the 13-watt R30s are in the stores.

Charlie has been making an odd little whistling sound that I thought might indicate a cold. But he has no nasal discharges, no sneezing or coughing and nothing is off about him -- his appetite is good, his eyes are clear, he's steady and vocal. His droppings are normal.

I first heard the tiny whistle when he was approaching Lucy to have her preen his head after emerging from captivity.

So, is allopreening "it"?

Or is it a heretofore unobserved symptom of early stage aspergillosis?

What a neurotic mother I would be.

New word today:

allopreening

I'm looking, I'm looking.

Allopreening in owls. This is pertinent:

Usually, the bird that initiated allopreening indicated its intent by staring at the other bird and uttering low cooing or whistling calls. If the other bird was receptive, it usually stared back, sometimes giving low cooing calls. After this brief solicitation exchange, one bird would fly or walk to a position beside the other (if it was not already in this position), where it would lean over and begin to preen the other's head. Typically, allopreening birds perched side by side, facing in the same direction (Fig. 1). Both birds partially or entirely closed their eyelids and nictitating membranes while allopreening, a behavior also described for the Oilbird (Steatornis caripensis) (Harrison 1965).

Preening was concentrated around the facial area, the top of the head, and the side of the head facing the preener. The recipient usually moved its head, as if to facilitate preening in whatever area was being preened. Most frequently, this consisted of lowering the head to expose the nape and top of the head or turning the head slightly toward the preener to expose the facial area.

Although most bouts began with one bird preening the other, preening usually became reciprocal or simultaneous as bouts proceeded. One bird would preen the other for a period, then roles would be reversed, often several times in a single bout. Simultaneous allopreening (both birds allopreening at the same time) occurred most frequently during periods of a few seconds when birds were changing roles as reciprocal allopreeners.

While allopreening, owls frequently made vocal cooing or whistling sounds that were just barely audible. Infrequently, a short staccato series of chittering notes was also given.

Both sexes initiated allopreening bouts, but we did not record which sex initiated them most frequently. Bouts lasted from only a few seconds (infrequently) to several minutes and usually ended when one or both birds seemed to lose interest in allopreening and went to sleep or began to autopreen. When one bird wished to terminate allopreening but the other bird persisted, the former usually sidled (or flew) away.

The mechanics of allopreening were similar to autopreening; the preener would mandibulate or nibble the feathers of the other bird, occasionally sliding one or more feathers between its mandibles with a gentle vibrating motion. The principal dif- ferences between allopreening and autopreening were that allopreening motions were more rapid, and no attempt was made to preen a particular area or feather thoroughly. The rapidity of allopreening motions left the impression that owls were "running their bills through each others'... feathers," as described by Miller (1974). We never observed any instance in which owls jabbed or tugged at each other in an aggressive manner while allopreening. Paragraphs mine -- Janis

Well, dearies (English novels again), that's in owls, and bonding pairs. Lucy will nip Charlie, much as my mother would bonk my head with a hairbrush if I wouldn't sit still.

Charlie approaches Lucy as a juvenile to an adult bird (aka Mama). He never offers to preen her, and would likely be out of line if he tried.

I'm interested in the "whistling sound that is barely audible."

Lucy turned six years old yesterday!

I don't know about you, but that prodded me into nagging Lyman to finally produce a will for me.

I do, in this marriage, legally hold some immoveable property which would pass to my brothers and sister and their offspring were I not to channel it back to the rightful heirs, my stepsons.

Let me live through the night to gather some witnesses.

This letter was published June 15, 2007, in the Natchez Democrat.

This obituary note was published today, July 14.

She was my sweet lady doctor.

My father-in-law told me of this yesterday. He was not clear on cause of death, but heard that she contracted an uncontrollable infection.

She's She was just about my age. My father-in-law commented, "God is no respecter of persons."

UPDATE: Here is a story.

UPDATE II: An updated obituary here.

I flicked down the visor on my side of the car to check my makeup, and said, "Ooooh."

That mirror at that angle would be perfect for plucking eyebrows. As it was, it showed the ones I missed.

Do you think my brother will let me come sit in his Infiniti to pluck my brows?

It's not as though it would break his starch or anything.

That is one boring drive. It might have been better had I been driving, but not by much. Charles is himself much better now, with the occasional relapse, as he had a couple of weekends ago -- with the fever and the beat-up feeling.

Jackson is about two hours away. It has all the popular stores, and local establishments, too. But after two hours of flatlands, who cares?

Sick people are dragged up and down that road all the time. Jackson has the hospitals and specialists, too.

New Orleans is farther -- 2-1/2 hours -- but the drive seems easier. Of course, in that direction one will eventually arrive in New Orleans.

I'm going to Jackson.

Goodbye.

Dr. Alice has a post up about the difficulties doctors face when asked to sign death certificates.

A few months back, she had a series of posts about a medical mission to Guatamala.

Today is Possum's birthday!

This is as good a time as any to point to this post from Sean Kinsell.

Chris takes dozens of good photographs, but I like the last one in this series.

And just an aside: I was about 25 when I had my ears pierced. When it was done I had to sit in the mall with my head between my knees. I was mutilated!

How do you keep a silly boy from going bonk when he plays so hard that he is that unbalanced?

Look at those flight feathers.

Fred Thompson's wife, Jeri Kehn, has been drawing comment. She's a smart, accomplished, good-looking blonde of forty.

But, by gosh, that blue dress is as tacky as can be. No one of any age or build is going to look classy in that dress. It might be appropriate for Lucinda Faberge (see comments).

Frederick's of Hollywood doesn't come close.

Here's my challenge to you. Find a source for a dress that sleazy looking.

(Thanks, Irrational Woman, for the images.)

And as the load spun there arose such a clatter,
That I rose from my chair to see what was the matter,
And after it quit, and the water had cleared,
And the dryer was running, I said what have we here?

It was a roofing nail poking through one of the drain holes in the washing machine tub. Had it not been raining, the repairman would have been on his way. He thinks there's no harm done.

This ring would be a fair replacement for the lost band. I think I pulled it off my finger gummed up with mastic in a paper towel and set it aside. Then forgot the ring was in the towel and whisked it all into the trash.

I went to the mall. Zales has a white-gold replacement for $250. I don't think so. But I did use the ring sizers on my finger. I wear a 4-1/2.

I've a couple more places to check before ordering online.

UPDATE: No, it's a four. And the nice man at Reynolds' Jewelry has ordered one for me.

Finished "project" here.

I lost my wedding band.

Duct mastic is a soft material about the consistency of cream-cheese frosting fresh, and it dries to the consistency of gum on the sidewalk or thereabouts.

I must have taken the ring along with mastic when I was cleaning my hands with paper towels.

It's no material loss. It was a silver band from the French Market in New Orleans that cost $5. But I feel right nekkid.

Now I'm ready to extend heartiest congratulations to Mrs. Schranck for earning her Ph.D.

Meaning no disrespect, Ma'am, but she ain't a spring chicken either.

Finished! I'll let it cure overnight and take a picture tomorrow.

Believe me, it's not pretty.

See that flap of backing up there? It has to go before I do anything further. It's at about fingertip height as I stretch above that crossbrace. (Lyman made the cut in the duct board and I won't be thanking him for it anytime soon. My fault, too. When I measured the cut in the board, I could have allowed a good three more inches for the top piece, and been working lower here at the bottom. I forgot about the cursed brace. Well, I'll know next time. Ha, ha, ha.)

And that damnable crossbrace. The vent opening is not framed well, which will entail building some little walls of duct board right around the mouth of the vent. This might be the only crummy detail in an otherwise very well-built house. And I want my Daddy.

Astrologically, I am an Aquarian with Virgo rising, so I read both horoscopes, when I read them at all.

It reads for Virgo today: Occasionally, we all have to perform some tasks or assignments we find distasteful, and today may be just one of those days for you. If you smile instead of frown, it'll make it easier.

They have my number today. I'll show you in a few minutes.