All right. I give up now.

Does "kerf" mean 1) expert 2) hobo 3) notch 4) mushroom?

I'll go for notch.

This year, the next satsuma tree up the row is loaded.

Here is the picture of a pretty pink poppy that kitchen hand mentioned below, with a story.

Mine was one of these -- that tangerine one back there, with a white vinyl top. If you'll scroll down you'll see an example of the "deluxe" plaid interior.

My friend Sam named it "Wanda".

That's all bad enough, but I couldn't keep a water pump in it.

UPDATE: My next car was a totally gray Nissan Sentra.

"That's fine with me."

Ms. Althouse has something else interesting today.

Fact is, people need makeup on TV. How will they overcome the difference in appearance between regular and high-definition television while it lasts?

A commenter at Hit & Run said that on his HDTV, the only person near the stage during last night's Democratic debate who didn't look 150 years old was Mr. Obama.

UPDATE: One of the commenters at Althouse says that the pron industry is much dismayed by the higher resolutions.

Cutting edge? London? Aw shoot, they do that at Dimples ever night.

(Thanks, Ms. Althouse.)

Have you seen these?

Lyman brought a pack home this week. They do smell and taste like grapes, or to be true, like grape soda.

I have a request.

A few weeks ago I had a hankering for graham crackers. I bought a box of Nabiscos, and I've eaten most of them. They were dandy.

But what's better, and would be more wholesome for Janis and the birds, would be a nice homemade digestive biscuit.

I've found a few recipes. Do you have one that you use?

I'm with Dr. Taylor. Surely they're kidding.

Gail Collins of the New York Times sure enough doesn't like John Edwards:

Something weird is going on with John Edwards, who was cheerfulness incarnate when four years ago he was the moderate-Southerner-who-can-speak-to-the-Reagan-Democrats. Then he morphed into a sorrowful populist who thought we should vote for him because he cared the most about the poor. Now he’s running around like a rabid gerbil, telling people he should be president because he’s the angriest. Soon, he’s going to run out of adjectives to embody.

"A rabid gerbil?" That's unkind.

I've never tried to grow poppies.

Time to pick on Tony.

In this post he comments that men do not have good fits for jock straps, either.

So I suggest that you use the same water displacement technique. And let your engineers take it on. (I'd think there is some kind of codpiece with gel for professional athletes.)

It's near Thanksgiving, so the best vessel I can recommend is a turkey pot. Parts will fit, won't they?

I was wandering around the blogs at The New Republic, and found this post.

Go on, go on ... waste an hour or so.

UPDATE: Well, by golly, I thank Robert Graves for I, Claudius. Claudication means "lameness."

Hard for me to fathom how measuring the weight of one's breasts would help with overall fit. I'd suppose my breasts weigh about the same as they did when I was 22. They just aren't in the same places.

But I do like this comment: "If men wore bras you can bet your life a bra would have been designed which fits, flatters and feels comfortable to wear!"- Leanne, Notts UK

UPDATE: I like the looks of this line.

UPDATE II: Now I'm thinking, how could I be so sexist as to agree with Leanne? Where are the women engineers looking to our comfort? They darned sure aren't designing shoes. And it is an engineering problem rather than a fashion problem, at least at my age.

Your Inner European is Russian!

Mysterious and exotic. You've got a great balance of danger and allure.

Who's Your Inner European?

Well, now. My inner musician is Tchaikovsky, and my inner European is Russian. A pattern develops.

(Thanks, Ms. Postrel.)

Hard to say what that means, but I'll expect a "cease and desist" letter from MENSA anyday now.

(Thanks, Possum.)

Oh, wow!

I might have to buy a couple of those for the sons' stockings.

(Thanks, Latino.)

Then maybe a couple of certificates for carbon credits to offset their auto use. Wouldn't that be cool?

I think that would be enough.

I've read up to page 690 of the nearly 900 page biography of Huey Long. At this point, he has become a U.S. Senator and is in conflict with FDR, which is showing in the home state.

But I want to go back (pp. 537-8), to where Mr. Long was organizing the race for his succession to governor of LA. Earl Long, as his brother and party organizer, thought the lieutenant governorship was his for the asking. His older brother disagreed. So the whole Long family took to the stump against each other, most aligned with Earl.

Mr. Williams writes this:

[Huey] would begin the story by describing a social gathering popular with rural Protestants -- an "all-day singing" at the church, with "dinner on the grounds." At such a meeting in Winnfield, he would continue, the mothers had laid their babies on a pallet under a tree during the dinner. As they were clearing the table, a violent storm suddenly broke. Each mother hastily collected her child. But there was one baby that nobody would claim, an ugly, squalling brat. Mrs. Long, unwilling to see the child abandoned, had taken it home and adopted it. "That was Earl."

So Huey Long said.

Thank you, Mr. Drum.

The most telling paragraph, considering the general tenor of Democratic comment in the blogosphere, is this one:

Many conservative Christian leaders say they can count on the specter of a second Clinton presidency to fire up their constituents. But the prospect of an Obama-Giuliani race is another matter. “You would have a bunch of people who traditionally vote Republican going over to Obama,” said the Rev. Donald Wildmon, founder of the Christian conservative American Family Association of Tupelo, Miss., known for its consumer boycotts over obscenity or gay issues.

That upsets the assumption of racism in the South, I would say. The Republicans he's talking about aren't black.

And help us, this was said in Kansas rather than Louisiana, not that it might'nt be: "“Obama sounds too much like Osama,” said Kayla Nickel of Westlink. “When he says his name, I am like, ‘I am not voting for a Muslim!’"

Like, Kayla, are you an ignorant xenophobe, or what?

It's such a pretty day, I ... cleaned my refrigerator!

That should be good for a day or two.

It's cool outside today.

Try for the first time a posole? Or go with tried and true Ally's Green Chili?

What to do, what to do?

C'mon, Tigers. Alabama ain't all that.

Now, Nick's something.

Oh, poor Sweeties, didn't I tell you to stay outside?

What an awful way to die.

I have moved on to this book. And I have a question for anyone who can answer.

The "Old Regulars" political machine in New Orleans refused to allow natural gas to be piped into the city, keeping the citizenry dependent on more expensive "artificial gas". What was this artificial gas? The author doesn't say.

And how about "Swords Lee" as a name? Beats "Ashley Wilkes" anyday.

UPDATE: In 1927, Riley J. Wilson was one of the candidates for governor of Louisiana. He grew up in poor circumstances and often talked of having to go barefoot as a child. Huey Long said, "I can go Mr. Wilson one better; I was born barefoot."

For a little Halloween atmosphere.

Lyman called the IRS (that's the federal income tax agency in the US) for a reason.

He was put on hold. The recorded voice said, "Our representatives are helping other customers. Please hold."

Customers? CUSTOMERS?!!!!

Talking to the IRS is always a horror story, with zombies.

Happy Halloween!

"Oh, that color."

I'm looking at the ribbing of the sweatshirt I'm wearing today. It's a dedicated "small paint sweatshirt".

Why do I keep clothes so long?

The babyshit mustard paint on this shirt, what designers now call "Tuscany gold", is the artefact of a bad yellow color that my mother chose for the house I grew up in. It wasn't badly her fault. She didn't try it before she painted, that's all. She wanted champagne and wound up with light lager. She asked me to paint a door.

This color was for the trim.

Lucy has another egg. It was there yesterday.

Back in the day, in the suburbs of Dallas, our newspaper group ran pretty baby contests.

It was more fun than a lot of revenue projects. Babies are a funny lot. But the revenue benefits were iffy. The project was time consuming. It raised printing costs. Where our papers sold in newsstands, people would pay for one paper and steal another half dozen for the ballot forms.

At any rate, if you'd like to look at the baby pictures at the Alexandria Town Talk newspaper, they're here.

I'd guess the contest is easier to manage online.

UPDATE: I like the expression on #088. How about the dimples on #032? #436 has enormous eyes. #077 is going to cut my Social Security payments.

#396 seems to have a wild sense of humor. She's my fave.

It's 54 degrees out there today. It hasn't been as low as 54 at night here.

I am reading this book. How in the world do you pronounce the name Delesdernier?

Which Classical Music Composer are You? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Tchaikovsky You are Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky! One of the most well know Russian composers today, Tchaikovsky drew much inspiration from folk songs and his own melancholy. He was homosexual but conceal it through a failed marriage and several other ill-fated relationships. Tchaikovsky 69% J.S. Bach 63% Franz Liszt 50% Hector Berlioz 44% Antonin Dvorak 0%

The verification for this post is zmvynbiy, which might mean something in Russian.

(Thank you, Chef Tony.)

They're doing it again, and this story provides as good an example as any:

Jindal, 36, will be the nation's youngest sitting governor. The son of Indian immigrants, he will also be the first Indian American governor in U.S. history, and the first nonwhite to hold the job in Louisiana since Reconstruction (emphasis mine).

Raise your hand if you've ever lived in a state with a non-white governor. Which state was it, and what was the governor's name?

In the twentieth century, Hawaii had some non-white governors, Douglas Wilder was the African-American governor of Virginia for a while, and Deval Patrick is currently governor of Massachusetts. Anyone else?

UPDATE: Bruce Moomaw over at James Joyner's place brings up Gary Locke, the Chinese-American governor of Washington for a period, and Bill Richardson, the mostly Hispanic governor of New Mexico. That's a big four on the continent.

Lucy has another egg. I don't know whether it belongs to the 20th or the 21st.

She broke the other one from this clutch.

This story raises a smile.

Before I forget, Lucy laid an egg at 10:50 p.m. on October 17.

Mr. Paul Palubicki and Peg Britton have posted different exercises to find the candidates who hold opinions closest to yours.

The one at Paul's place is far more comprehensive, but Peg's is fine for a quick look.

My rump would not be so sore if I'd listened to my mama and spent more time cleaning baseboards than painting them.

A friend sent us this video of Snowball, the dancing cockatoo.

This boy has some rhythm.

If that dancer is not your type, try this one.

You know, I've been figuring our electric savings from our improvements wrong.

After changing some lightbulbs, I estimate the baseload of our house to be about 900kW a month. That includes refrigerators and computers, washer and dryer, lights and ventilation. That can't be changed without replacing appliances.

Changing the windows and ducts, and sealing the chase, the recessed lights and air supply boots affect air-conditioning usage, or later, gas usage.

So today, when I read the meter for a months usage at 1486, and compare it to last year's usage for the same month, 1811 with an estimated baseload of 1000 kW, I should calculate the variable energy savings. Let's see, 811-586=225, 225/811=27.7. Absolute savings is 17.9 percent.

But all of this is senseless without a comparison of degree days for the two reporting periods. If you have a source where I can find historical numbers, I'd be most appreciative. I can find a month's worth at accuweather.com.

How are you doing, Mr. Gore? Congratulations on the prize.

Beware! Wet paint!

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.