And here's our girl, one day after surgery, perched on Dr. Schnellbacher. Thank you for the picture, Adrienne.

Rats! I started to Baton Rouge with plenty of time, but had to turn around because the car was vibrating so. Bad tire.

I can't get there in time for visiting hours. But I did talk to Lucy on the telephone. We'll pick her up on Monday.

Adrian from the clinic called. Lucy is alert and adapting already.

She told me that animals don't have the hang-ups that humans do regarding disabilities. They just pick up and go on.

Terrific news.

They are amputating Lucy's leg. It wouldn't take the pins. Her egg-laying has taken a toll on her bones. Apparently, she hasn't been getting enough calcium. Yes, it's my fault.

Dr. Schnellbacher just called. He said birds can have a decent quality of life with one leg. They learn to use their beaks more.

Or they could put her down.

This house has been so empty without her.

Oh, my poor Lucy.

UPDATE: The doc called back to report that Lucy came through the surgery fine. We can visit her tomorrow afternoon.

She's bound to be one pissed-off princess, but I'm reading on the parrot fora that many birds adapt quickly and well. We'll have a lot to learn.

Nothing from the doctors at LSU so far.

The students who call in the evenings tell me that Lucy has an admirer in the clinic -- a male Eclectus named "Joe." He's been chirping and singing since he first saw her.

Altogether now, "If I had a hammer..."

Mary Travers has died.

This was the album that was introduced at my house when I was seven or so.

I always wanted to hear the "beautiful grace" that the man with the long chain on said.

Had a call from LSU. The orthopedists will be coming in on Thursday. She has a distal break. The doctor said that they might go to fusion, which might cause Lucy to be lame.

"Do the best you can," I told him. "She's a good, courageous girl."

Lucy is going to college -- LSU to be precise -- to have a broken leg pinned.

The break is near the hip, and Dr. Debbie doesn't feel confident doing the surgery. Something lower on the leg might be a different story.

Lucy was standing on her parrot tower and took fright-flight at something outside. Apparently she hit the wall or a corner of the wall at a bad angle. (Better guess is the corner of the black TV that was cocked out at an angle.)

My poor, beautiful, sweet girlybird.

UPDATE: Michael, the love of her life, Lyman's son, took her. He knows the way. I'd still be driving. The docs down there say she'll be fine eventually. They'll operate today or Thursday.

Birds. Not for the weak-hearted. Or the poor.

Interesting medical comments at TalkLeft regarding salicylate intoxication.

According to the doctor commenting there, aspirin is a source of salicylate, but a more powerful source is oil of wintergreen, used in baking and candy-making, liniments, and apparently, aromatherapy.

Watch the little ones around that stuff.

And here's a note to watch use of pain-killing rubs containing methyl salicylate (Bengay, Icy Hot, Deep Heat, for example) when using warfarin.

Use the university, Chris. Not that I ever did much with it, recluse as I am, but you're all there.

One of the benefits that yoga gives me (and I am not trying to convert here, mind, any other upward reaching exercise will do) is to put my arms in other directions than they usually go.

I was a waitress in my 20s. The reach was always down. I'd get dizzy reaching up or backward. Mothering, the reach is down. Most of housecleaning, the reach is down. Walking, the reach is flat, running, the reach is flat. Computer work, the reach is flat.

The yoga that I'm doing raises arms for good lengths of time.

What I see at the assisted living center is a lot of 85-90+-year-old women who can't even reach up. They've trained their muscles down. They'd have had a hard time reaching up when they were 62.

Strictly Tabu.

Never know what will send you on a jaunt to the past. Today it was Sarah's post that mentioned that her son really, really doesn't like piano practice.

That reminded me of Ed Hagen. (Third from left.) Jazz was a part of the Dallas scene in those days.

He was playing Lionel Hampton while The Ramones were gearing up.

Strictly Tabu was pink flamingos. Admit it, everybody loves them.

Now there was a practical benefit to yoga.

The lights in the guest bath needed cleaning. We're talking six bulbs and six globes with an awkward screw fitting. Lots of reaching up on tiptoes.

All that "bending, stretching, twisting and squeezing" as Wai Lana says, made it a snap. (Not to mention that the exercises are carving my waistline down. Welcome enough, but that's a side benefit.)

I sent for her Hello Fitness series of DVDs, which is intermediate level. I watched one yesterday. Now is the time to be careful. I don't want to "pop my mesh" as opposed to "bust a gut" after that femoral-inguinal hernia surgery in what, 2004?

Charles, the bird, likes the song Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

He's working at putting that "sweetie pie bird" in there.

Yes, I will weigh in on the health care issue.

I found myself caring for a nearly dead person because the technicians weren't good.

The Mayo Clinic, when it came down to Charles' illness, evaluated slides taken from labs in Natchez and Jackson that were too thick, the infectious disease doctor said, and the poor staining masked the illness.

Dr. Dreiling at the VA, the other hematologist, said that there were markers for Hodgkins. That was the end of his comment.

UPDATE: Reed-Sternberg cell. I'm looking at you, kid.

A cute, funny thing happened at the dollar store today.

A young woman was at the register with a tiny girl toddler. The baby had a piece of candy in her hand.

When it came time to scan the candy, the little one resisted giving the candy up, so her mom just picked her up and held her over the counter so the checker could scan the piece. No muss, no fuss.

Not a bad way to avoid a scene.

Travis, Lyman's father, had a Patsy Cline CD in his car:



What a voice.

It's the small things.

From the time Lyman's dad retired at 79, until just several months ago, we had a reliable visitor, sometimes once, sometimes twice, sometimes four times a day through the years.

The late afternoon visit always started with "What's for supper?" Not that he would stay, but he might like to expect a portion the next day.

Last night we were cooking boiled shrimp, and for the first time in fifteen years, we didn't cook a least a portion the way he would have liked it. He didn't care for it as spicy as we do.

That was the first big click in "missing."

Lucy looks low when she is ready to lay. She does have an egg.

But for two or three days prior, she looks like she feels right lousy.

I really wonder if I should let her go to a breeder. It would grieve me greatly to let her go, but she seems so set on a little nekkid birdie or two.

This has been going on for what, four years? Lucy turned eight this July.

Yoga, yoga, yoga.

I lost a week of practice because Lyman's sons were here. I need to rethink this not having televisions in the bedrooms. Lyman's younger will not sleep without TV noise. I find that a shame for his sake, and a disruption of my schedule.

I don't need a bigger house. I need enough money to put them up in a hotel room.

Few things tick me off more than waking to a television carrying on in the house, or someone in my morning space.

So, in the course of conversation last night, I said something about the bird Charlie. The bird looked up and said, "Charles."

I stand corrected. Jeez.

Lyman's boys like breakfast. I don't.

But to keep them from spending $30 on omelets this morning, I baked this casserole.

That's a keeper.

And I'm giving up trying to make a good biscuit. Mary B makes a big, fluffy, gravy-ready biscuit in 20 minutes.

I spoke to Miss Betty yesterday, and the absolute word on Southern funeral attire is that it's not improper to wear open-toed shoes.

By observation, a woman can slso wear trousers without gathering ill-opinion.

Also, by observation, if you can can away with it physically, uncovered shoulders are fine, too. No sloppy, swaggy flesh, thanks.

That was in a Southern Baptist church in Vidalia.

I don't know about Natchez.

Lyman's father died peacefully this morning near 7:30.

UPDATE: For locals who would like to make a gesture, in lieu of flowers send donations to:

Streams of Life Food Ministry
10140 Whiteoak
Baton Rouge, LA 70815

Streams of Life

Just watching the lead-in tape before the overall yoga session, I discovered that I was doing one of the asanas wrong.

In this "asana" she told me to lift my legs to a 45 degree angle. So I lift my legs to a 45 degree angle off the floor and proceed with instructions.

In the pictures, she is lifting her legs to a 45 degree angle on the other side of her body, which is over her head. She's coming from the other end of the axis.

I'd call that a 135 degree angle.

In all, I like it better, the getting up on my shoulders, but we need some agreement about geometry.

Charlie's newest phrase is "Oh, no!" Remember Mr. Bill?

Oh, so now everything carries guilt?

At the MSN homepage today there is a "Guiltless Guacamole Recipe."

My first thought was "What are those people adding to their guacamole? Olive oil? Mayonnaise? Tequila?"

One regular guacamole recipe looks like this.

Let's look again at the recommended recipe. White beans in guacamole to cut fat?

Sorry, kids. Use the full fruit and eat the beans on the side. Eat less, if it bothers you that !@*%$#@ much.

Where do y'all come from?

I posted this at Althouse:

I fault Sarah Palin for having the poor judgment to accept a nomination that would bring young, unwed, pregnant Bristol onto the public stage.

How many times have we heard the term "teenage pregnancy" in the last say, 40 years, as something to be contained?

Now everyone's supposed to say, "Well, that's cool," then pay for her delivery and the support of the child in the Naval Observatory?

Hell, I didn't like the way the Bush girls dressed at the 2004 convention. Some occasions demand some formality, and a nomination to the presidency or vice-presidency is one of them.

But, back to to my topic, you can't break with a social narrative (call it a more, if no longer a taboo) that hard and not expect criticism.

Should that have applied to Trig? Not at all. None of us has control over our genes.

Have at it.

Lucy rarely speaks anymore, but yesterday while I was reading in the bedroom and Lyman was doing errands, she belted out a wonderful array of natural bird calls -- the kind you hear above the rain forest down home with clacking and monkeys.

The girl gone native.

OK, birds. Which tape do we want to run today?

Charlie started to chant along with the singer at the end of one tape the other day. Will he start chanting yoga meditation mantras?

The toning tape? Oh.

If Governor Mark Sanford's sons were a few years older, I can imagine them pulling on his suit sleeves and saying, "Dad, Dad, it might be a good idea not to talk about this now."

It would be hard to reconcile with a man who stated in public that his lover was his "soul mate," but he would be making efforts to fall back in love with me.

That limb he's sitting on would look awfully fragile to me about then. Especially if I were a Skil heiress. Bzzzzzzzzzt.

The first of the great summer meals tonight: fresh-shelled purple-hull peas cooked with a bit of bacon, fresh sliced tomatoes, fresh sliced cucumbers, a bit of ham and buttermilk cornbread.

Summer Southern Sunday Supper.

That toning workout was fine until yesterday. Then I was sore enough that I laid off a day from the yoga. Today I went back to the beginning tape.

For this beginning phase I need to establish a rhythm. Maybe alternating the first tape and the relaxation tape for three days, then the toning tape, then a day off. Until I am stronger.

Meh. That toning workout wasn't so bad until the part where you lie flat on the floor, lift both legs together then turn them in circles, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise.

And of course, there was a balance exercise, at which I suck. Never mind which one.

This morning I did Wai Lana's relaxation workout. These exercises concentrate on the spine.

The scissors (non-bypass) and sidelifts look a lot like regular calisthenics, just done more slowly and with more concentration on breathing. Then there were a few backbends and such. Don't be too optimistic. These exercises take some effort. Relaxation comes afterward.

Then there's that tree pose that troubles me so. What's so frustrating is that I used to rest standing with my opposite foot inside my thigh, like Australian aborigines.

(Is aborigine considered a slur now?)

Yeah, yeah, I'll get to that toning workout. Sometime.

Namaste, y'all.

This recipe from Peg Britton went over well here.

Maurice built this accent table for our bedroom.

This is my first scratch stain project. I'll be doing some sanding, using a pre-stain conditioner, staining to spec with oil-based red mahogany stain with maybe a coat of walnut, and finishing with polyurethane.

The wood is maple. It's 98 degrees outside.

UPDATE: It's Father's Day. My dad, Joseph the carpenter, has been gone since 1990. Here's my card to you, Daddy.

Rats, I'm late.

Happy Father's Day, all you pops out there!

I had breakfast with my father-in-law at 7:30 this morning at the assisted living center.

He's a good dad, and he's been good to me, too.

I spent a while this morning with Wai Lana after finally buying a new DVD/VCR player. (I found a refurbished Sony at Amazon for $56.00 total.)

I've had these tapes, wrapped, for years. The first tape is a little different from my lessons, but offers a good overall body workout with a mild challenge or two I haven't tried before. My balance is still dreadful.

The birds think I'm nuts. Lucy might even speak again. "WHAT you DOIN, Janis?" I'll practice in their room, which is the great room.

And yes, it's been February since I had lessons. No, I haven't been practicing.

Namaste, y'all.

Being a weirdo myself, with the prospect ahead of replacing a 12/13/14-year-old Ford Escort Wagon, I'm edging toward the Kia Soul econobox.

Reviewers are saying it averages about 30 mpg in mixed driving, which is better than any of the comparable makes and models.

And it's certainly no uglier and more practical than my second-hand First Car with that deluxe plaid interior. Daddy was co-signer, and thought it was just the thing to teach me not to invest my ego into automobiles.

Mine was that tangerine color, and had a white vinyl roof. My sister said it would have been perfect in lime green.

I guess the lesson took.

UPDATE: I don't like those blind spots in the back corners -- the "D post" as the writers call it.

I like Ms. McNeal's work. This is the first I've seen of it. Of course, I don't get out much.

Based on this article, I'd agree with the commenter at Outside the Beltway that here is a case of "Suicide by Security Guard."

But more interesting is the language of white separatist sympathizer John De Nugent:

"The responsible white separatist community condemns this," he said. "It makes us look bad."

How very PC.

Diane, who makes some effort to be discreet on the web, has ricocheted off the "outing" post to create a short list of etiquette rules for bloggers and commenters.

Via Glenn Reynolds, who I hardly think needs a link from the likes of me, Mr. Whelan apologizes.

Good for him, but gracious, does one have to be so Victorian?

UPDATE: Mr. Whelan has been so very prickly in his language, I was interested in reading this note from Big Tent Democrat at Anonymous Liberal's site:

It is certainly to Ed's credit (strangely enough I am friendly with him despite having had raging arguments with him on and offline. This action was clearly out of character for him imo) that he apologized.

UPDATE: Now Jack Dunphy, pseudonymous writer for the National Review, has a post up. After this brouhaha, I do hope people will abide by his wishes.

If I haven't told you before, I love a good blog brawl.

I agree with Mr. McQuain.

I'd hope my niece never shows up with this guy for dinner. Mr. Whelan didn't do anything illegal, immoral or even unethical -- just what in the South we'd call "tacky," or my mother would call "ugly."

There was nothing illegal, immoral or unethical about Al barfing on that bridesmaid's dress at Zee's wedding, but he still won't be invited to any more of Zee's parties. Poor guy didn't have the charm to carry that off. Few do.

And I'm surprised. The National Review is an institution, and the bloggers there have never before confronted adversaries that way. I'd say Kathryn Jean Lopez has endured some of the most brutal, hateful and hurtful commentary I've ever read. I'm sure it's on her radar, but she goes her merry way, as the other bloggers have.

Mr. Whelan seems to be the kind of lawyer who likes to win, and thinks he's gained a point. But he'll learn, like my husband the lawyer, that winning isn't everything.

UPDATE: Gary Farber has a good rundown of the controversy. While I do not subscribe to some of his language, his links are good.

And yes, I do think that Mr. Whelan sounds like a pompous prick. Do not fail to read Mr. Whelan's posts. "I can, therefore I will."

La sis is off to Great Lakes, IL, this Thursday to attend my niece's graduation from Navy basic training.

Good for the girls.

In keeping with the river theme this week, you can go here to see a short videoscan of the Mississippi. It hit its high for this spring yesterday.

Lyman wanted something to show friends in Ohio and New York.

I guess I could have loosened that creaky tripod.

Major Davis has a fine Southern epitaph.

UPDATE: This stone makes me think of the other song I played on Memorial Day.

This picture was taken farther downstream, a piece down the road from the cemeteries. The river crested last week.

This is one view of the Mississippi River from the new section of the Natchez National Cemetery.

Had Charles not lived last year -- and there were times we thought he might not -- he wanted his ashes buried up here as close to the river as possible. And still does, when his time comes.

Wait a minute. We have a big stainless steel steam pan that Lyman uses for ribs which will work a lot better than those Hefty disposable casserole pans for assembly and transport.

It's Big Daddy's 90th birthday tomorrow. He doesn't like cake, so it's scratch banana pudding for all 25 residents at the assisted living center and whatever guests arrive.

Staff, too. Lyman's brother is bringing some pies.

UPDATE: Kitchen hand, the recipe I'll be using is a lot like this one.

How far ahead can I make banana pudding with baked meringue before serving? I'm serving 20 30 at 3 1 p.m. on Saturday.

It's a shame that I should have to ask this question about a Southern staple.

UPDATE: Vidalia good cook Dot Ware suggests assembling the pudding up to meringue the day before, then whipping up and baking the meringue on top in the morning. That's a plan.

A curried cauliflower side that will go into the "keepers" file:

1 teaspoon curry powder
1/4 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 (10-oz.) packages fresh cauliflower florets
1 medium onion, chopped
3/4 teaspoon salt

Cook curry powder and red pepper in hot oil in a large skillet over medium heat, stirring often, 1 minute. Add cauliflower, onion, and salt, and cook, stirring constantly, 2 to 3 minutes or until onion is crisp-tender. Reduce heat to low; add 6 Tbsp. water. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, 8 to 10 minutes or just until cauliflower is tender.

Just a pretty song for Memorial Day:

I'm willing to eschew disposable shopping bags -- except for the few plastic ones that I reuse as liners in bathroom trash cans, or the big paper bags that we use in the truck for trash.

What I would prefer is the old-style European expanding string bag like, perhaps, these. As a retail clerk in the past, I'd prefer something that makes the management more comfortable than the canvas and other opaque bags that can conceal shoplifting.

I also don't want to pay a premium price for something that's "eco-friendly," or pay shipping for something that should come at the dollar store for about four bucks.

(Thanks, kitchen hand.)

The Internet wouldn't connect this morning, so I took some time to write a short letter to enclose with a card for my niece at Navy boot camp. Last night I couldn't think of a thing to say.

She had a bad go there for a bit when she developed tendonitis in her foot. She tells her mother that running in boots is killing.

Graduation is scheduled for June 5.

UPDATE: Far as I know, she's the first woman in the family to do military service. She's 24.

A vibrating mascara brush?

I rarely make it through a makeup session without having to dab away mistakes with a still one.

Dr. Alice has a fun little exercise up.

Your result for The Commonly Confused Words Test...

English Genius

You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 100% Advanced, and 100% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!

For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

Take The Commonly Confused Words Test at HelloQuizzy

All well and good, but there was no question regarding "lead" and "led."

Now there's a new one for me: Oppositional Defiant Disorder

From a Slate article on what successful women wanted to be when they grew up:

Judith Martin, Miss Manners

One day when I was a little girl with blonde ringlets, my father said, "I can picture you as an old lady, wearing high collars and a bun and tyrannizing over future generations."

And I thought to myself, "My daddy understands me."

I lifted this video from Ann Althouse:
Cat and parrot


Not a chance I'd take, but dear all the same.

Weagle.

(I've adopted this from Charlie. He says it out of the blue. It means he's still around but doesn't have much to say.

Oh, excuse me. That's Charles.

He never liked the diminutive.)

Lyman's mother sometimes gets chilly in her new environment where she can't run the thermostat up and down at will.

So I found a soft, pretty throw for Mother's Day in a pearl blue. She likes blues.

And a pretty, girly card.

Happy Mother's Day, Girl.

(Maybe my wicked stepmother's day present can be one in rust. Or that deep, deep red. Yes, the red.)

UPDATE: Had to settle for that cozy rust. Matches our patio table at the beach.

Happy Mother's Day to you moms out there.

And a story to warm you by the fire.

Now then, if you want perfect 4mm beads, the workers at Good Wood have them for you. Buy in lots of 25,000.

How do they do that? Make perfect 4mm beads, I mean.

This beading business is seductive. Yesterday at the craft store I saw some about 8mm tinily painted white beads that beg to be made into earrings.

No, Janis. No, no.

And if you have a need for beads, try eebeads.com. That's where I found the natural beads with no minimum order and no fuss.

Oddly enough, these beads for rosaries made the best match in blue.

The shells are coming from an eBay seller.

All for just over $15, which is cheaper than a trip to Baton Rouge.

UPDATE: eebeads just shipped.

Well, maybe Nancy's find wasn't such a good one after all. I still thank her profusely for the effort.

Trim India is an exporter. The minimum order I can make is 96.xx yards, and I must pay shipping from India. I could trim every pillow in the complex with that amount of fringe, and send some to all my readers for yours, too.

So, on my first day at home, a lazy one, I looked all over the Internets for proper wooden beads and shells. Let me tell you, hons, there are bazillions of both out there.

Then yesterday I visited our local craft store, which doesn't have the right beads, but had plenty that I could finger to determine the sizes I need. 6mm on the blues, and 4mm for the plains.

The shells are small Ark seashells, about 1/2 inch. Those are usually sold in bulk by weight or volume.

Might as well order.

Natchez has taken a weather beating during the past year or so. Here's the latest.

Time to go home. Never did swim.

UPDATE: And home again, home again, jiggety, jiggety, jiggety, jiggety jog.

Y'all, I cleaned this tabletop with LA Awesome cleaner earlier today, but it didn't do enough, so applied some Dollar General bathroom cleaner with bleach. It turned the top this mottled orange color.

What can I do?

UPDATE: I've talked to Jim at Werzalit, the maker of the tabletop. He's going to ask his tech guys and get back to me.

Target kept the same pattern, all right, but changed the quality of the flatware. The pieces to the left in each pair are the new stuff, on the right the old.

The new stuff has been hollowed out on the back to use less metal. Look closely at those salad forks.

Yo, mama. I have a new bestest friend. Nancy found this fringe. If I dye the middle beads, there won't be a nickel's worth of difference.

Whatever you want, sweet Nancy. "How did you do that," I asked. "I used to be a librarian. I know how to find things," she said. She hadn't seen the fringe. She worked on a description.

I'll take a couple of strands off the ends of the pillows to fill in the gaps, and hunky dory for the summer. Buy a couple yards for safekeeping.

Oh, a topic so I can toss this list.

Along 63, a mile or two from the intersection with I-10, is Heritage Funeral Home. It's a small building. On the front lawn, to the right of the building, is a selection of stone markers for graves.

Couldn't they put them somewhere else, as in behind and to the right? They aren't marking Aunt Tilda's grave there.

This Panasonic camera has a nice zoom. I took this photo from the balcony.

When Candy told me about the pillows she designed for the love seat, I thought, "Trouble on the seashore."

Those beads and shells beg to be tugged at, chewed on, and picked off.

So I went to the shop where she had the pillows made to find more trim. Nada. "It's an old trim that we won't be having anymore."

So it looks like a trip to Michaels in Pensacola for craft supplies this afternoon. If I can find the parts, it should be easy enough to add the missing strands. If I can find the parts.

UPDATE: The other thing I can do is clip them all off. The pillows won't look "bad" without them, just not as much fun.

I came in from shopping today desperate for a Bloody Mary, so I went across the street to Bubba's Seafood, and had a pretty darned good one.

They use a mix made and bottled here at Orange Beach -- this one. The bartender kicked it up a bit with a splash of Tabasco.

I picked up a cheap toaster today at Walmart that was hot enough to burn my finger when I touched the exterior while it was working. That goes back. It's plainly dangerous.

Toaster shopping might be hard. I want a trim, white two-slice toaster that won't take up much counter space. Most that I see are bulky.

I found some good plastic glasses today that I didn't have to spend six bucks apiece for, but the short glasses are broad for little hands. I might go to a dollar store to pick up a cheerful few for young'uns. We have regulars from Denham Springs, LA, with little ones.

Water glasses. The rental agency requires 1-1/2 times the number of guests (6) in the number of glasses.

We have 10 glasses, 3 of one set, 3 of another, and four that I don't recognize. I think I'll pop for a set of 6 8 nice plastic ones in both water and short sizes for the summer.

I have about 10 short/rocks/juice glasses of mixed heritage, too.

UPDATE: The toaster works, but looks pretty ratty. Replace.

Need more flatware. I hope Target still carries the same pattern. (Yeah, right.)

Baking sheets look dreadful. Replace.

Let's see: lamp finials, new lamp socket with working switch, try for a different cheap DVD player for the bedroom and leave the Memorex in the box to return to Office Depot, discard the DVD player in the living room that the snowbirds left in place after they took the one out of the bedroom when the one in the front room quit working, spot paint that nick in the bathroom and the blue in the hall, corners.

Call Chem-Dry to clean and and ScotchGuard the chair and sofa and...

pop a beer. Milwaukee's Best, if you must know.

On the good side, the man who has been working for us did a great job installing the HDTV (with DVD player) in the other bedroom on the wall and a brand new water heater, which could save a ton of misery not too many years hence. Money, too.

So that bedside drawer wasn't off-track after all. This vial was stuck behind it.

Hubba, hubba.

Nice day.

I did find the cap for the washing machine agitator in one of the lower kitchen cabinets. What it was doing there...

Okay, what happened to the lamp finial in the second bedroom?

Here's one with more background for you.

Possum, hon, I find your interest in swimsuits a little odd, but who am I to say? Here you are.

Do you want a pic of Lyman's, too?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good news on wheels.

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

So one successful cataract surgery down, another to go.

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

Kate's family photo

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

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

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

Criminy, I'm stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

I don't have a clue. Do you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

My sister's daughter has joined the Navy.

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

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

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

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

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

New vocabulary: pulse oximeter

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

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

Well, that lasted until the absolute reversal this morning.

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

We all gonna be institutionalized before this is over.

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

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

You go, Girl!

In e-mail:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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