Dr. Jeff Masters has temporary projections for the movement of the oil slick in the Gulf.

Some of the animals expected to be affected by the BP rig blowout.

For Max, Aquarium of the Americas prepares to accommodate sea turtles.

Heart-wrenching days for some local families.

A name for a girl.

Clara is a pretty name that I haven't heard applied in years.

We had an adventure this past weekend.

Lyman was vomiting blood (not the bright, scary kind, the rusty coffee-looking kind) Friday morning. So we took him to the emergency room in Natchez. Doctors determined he should be admitted, but since no gastroenterologists were on call this weekend, they transferred him to a hospital about 50 miles east in McComb, MS.

They treated him with two units of blood and IV fluids all weekend. On Monday he underwent an EGD or upper gastrointestinal scope and found nothing to be alarmed about -- no lesions, no ulcer, just a slight redness in some tissue.

He was released Monday with no medications and no dietary restrictions and is just fine, if a little weak.

How weird. Well, not really, according to the specialist. They see cases like that from time to time.

Don't ask me how I got from here to here, but I did.

I have no interest in whether animals can be gay, but I'll always enjoy seeing animals as silly looking as those two Chinese Silky chicks on the left.

Big Bird has a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I dunno.

Continuing the book theme, when I was about twelve, my brother Charles brought home a fine color plate edition of the works of Michelangelo. That's when I decided that the the Pieta was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. I still think so.

It's an unfortunate thing that viewers aren't allowed to touch works like this. Even Henry Moore is off-limits. At least in Dallas.

I have sympathy with art thieves and the people who employ them.

I had just received an e-mail notice from the GelPro company when I posted below. They send product offers from time to time.

Since I like the mats, I deigned to fill out a short survey. In the comments, I did mention that the edges curl. Look, I can turn them around and they're fine for a good while. I told them so.

Immediately, a representative sent a request that I send photos of my particular problem. They took a look, and presto, replacement mats have been shipped. They want the originals back, which will be a pain in the butt, but they want to take a look at them.

Maybe I should spend some time talking to customer service at Jenn-Air. The hinges, replaced last summer, are going out again.

There's a meme going around these days in some blogs about books that influenced the blogger.

I'd say first on my list is the medical book I mentioned in this post. I was in many ways reared by that book, and would read it still if my sister didn't have it.

(As an aside, I learned of Indigo's death in May of 2008 long after the fact, from Mostly Cajun's blog. We carried on a good-natured correspondence for years.)

And I'd bet a good many of you were influenced by that book and don't know it.

Vying with first is The American Woman's Cook Book, 1947 edition, when mama needed a cake recipe. Interesting that it came from the Culinary Arts Institute of Chicago.

My parents spent I don't know how many payments to buy us an elementary set of encyclopedia, less than middling, but that included The Bookshelf for Boys and Girls. I spent hours with those books. I particularly liked mythology. My sister has those, too.

And that's where I'll leave it today.

Words are funny.

From the VRBO site Lyman had an inquiry: "How much would it cost to rent this precious condo?"

Lyman told me: "Well, if they're going to be sarcastic about it, why should I respond at all?"

J: "What do you mean?"

L: "Precious condo."

J: "That could mean that she likes it, Lyman. We might not describe it that way (yo mama), but she might."

L: Oh.

Furthermore, speaking of forgetting. For some weeks Lyman and I had been puzzling over a "Cuban Pork" recipe in our computer file.

L: What is this cuban pork recipe?
J: Cuban pork?

So we tried it again, and it's very good. Here it is:

CUBAN STYLE PORK with PAPAYA MANGO SALSA

For mojo:
1/3 cup fresh orange juice
2 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
10 garlic cloves, chopped fine
2 teaspoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons dried oregano, crumbled
1 teaspoon salt
4 bay leaves
1 pound piece boneless pork loin

Papaya mango salsa, recipe follows.

Mojo: In a small bowl stir together all mojo ingredients until salt is
dissolved. Chill sauce, covered, at least 1 hour and up to 24. Trim all fat from pork. In a sealable plastic bag combine pork and mojo. Seal bag, pressing out excess air. Marinate pork, chilled, 3 hours.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Drain pork, discarding marinade, and pat dry. In a small roasting pan roast pork 30 to 40 minutes, or until a meat thermometer inserted in center registers 160 (bull, we go to 125) degrees. Transfer pork to a cutting board and let stand 10 minutes. Cut pork into thin slices and serve with salsa.
Yield: 4 servings

PAPAYA MANGO SALSA

1/2 firm ripe papaya
1 medium firm ripe mango
1/2 medium red onion, chopped fine
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1/2 small jalapeno chili, seeded and minced
1 tablespoon chopped fresh coriander

Seed and peel papaya. Peel mango and cut flesh from pit. Cut papaya and mango into 1/4 inch dice and in a small bowl toss with onion and lime juice. Stir diced jalapeno into salsa with coriander and salt and pepper to taste. Chill salsa, covered, at least 2 hours and up to 24.
Yield: 2 1/2 cups

So go get your mojo working.

We plan to try the mojo with chicken thighs soon.

While we're talking about the kitchen, let's give a hand to houseguests Buzzy and Locks (Don and Adrienne) for bringing a top-notch host/hostess gift. ::CLAP, CLAP, CLAP::

They brought and cooked a barbequed oyster recipe from Jon Bonnell's Fine Texas Cuisine. They came through last weekend and this one. In the interim we bought the cookbook.

The sauce is dominated by the mild dried Anaheim chili pepper.

UPDATE: Ahem, Lyman says it needs more kick, but not flavor. I vote for a touch of sambal.

Better yet, let's go ask Chef Bonnell.

UPDATE: He recommends adding a chili pequin or red Thai chili to the mix.

Do you remember these rugs?

I knew they would be a disaster in the kitchen, and they were, and I've passed them on to my sister.

We replaced them with Gel Pro mats which have a plastic surface that can be swept and mopped.

We see one problem, which is if they aren't rotated regularly, the 1/4-inch flat edge curls. It's no taller than the top of the mat, though, and isn't a problem if we don't drag our feet.

That's a recommendation after two years' use.

Our electric company in Alabama has a lot to say about electric tankless water heaters, and none of it is good.

In their magazine last month, and an insert in the bill this month, the electric company offers to buy and install a conventional water heater in place of an electric tankless at its expense. Or you can change it out yourself and receive a rebate of $1000, or you can keep it and pay a special higher rate after Dec 31, 2011.

This so-called energy efficient alternative ain't all that it's cracked up to be.

The reasons:

+ When the tankless fires up, it can draw as much as 36,000 watts of power, about eight times more than a conventional heater, which comes in around 4,500.

+ Many times a home's wiring and the utility company's equipment can't handle the load, causing flickering and dimming lights

+ Sometimes the company has to upgrade transformers and household meters.

+ Since this electric company is a co-op, that increased electric demand can lead to increases in power costs across the board.

None of that applies to gas tankless heaters. They prolly have their own problems.

But that's what Baldwin EMC has to say to you, Bubba.

I went to class this morning. It was the right pace and style for me. The poses were challenging enough, but I left feeling not the least bit beaten up.

PD was in the class. She settled her mat in front of mine in one of Cheryl's workshops last year. She has the prettiest pink feet.

This is about enough out of the whippersnappers.

The teachers I've visited with the past year have you do "tree" about half-way through a session, when I'm all stretched out. No, I can't stand there for a minute or two at that time. I could be better earlier. Maybe.

I joined a couple of classes with Cheryl Moss this weekend.

There I saw the women who run this studio. I plan to start with them on Monday, a class a week.

Mother-in-law's birthday is tomorrow. She turns 90.

This is Decadent Fudge Cake. I had to thin my chocolate more to make it flow at all, but I hope it will be okay.

It demands some vanilla ice cream, don't you think?

Lucy had another egg this evening.

She has lost interest.

Her head is tucked back for sleeping.

Lucy has a new egg. That's three this month.

I have added a "HIT THE BEACH" category on the left because Lyman and I were thrown out of our agency rental program. We had availability problems.

So now we're on our own, working through the Vacation Rentals by Owner (VRBO) site.

Go take a look and offer advice here. And no, dammit, we're not gonna put granite countertops in the kitchen and bathrooms. I don't like granite that well, and it's going out of style.

If I had been a little faster, you might have seen Lucy lay the egg under her tail in this photo.

Is that something you'd like to see? The hearing is more interesting.

She ate it.

Egg from Lucy this morning.

The Weather Channel is predicting more snow for our area tonight.

Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day!

How about some toy love?

I'm watching the trials for the women's moguls at the Olympics.

What's with the uniforms for the USA? They look like flannel jammies.

UPDATE: A photo

UPDATE: 2/14/10 The men doing the moguls are wearing them, too. Those big ole hunky boys look even sillier.

And snow continues to fall in the Deep South.

UPDATE: That passed eastward around noon. Looked to be about 4" here. It's melting as we speak.

Speaking of old rock acts, Smiley Anders, the guy with the best job in the state, offers this note:

Ken Duhe says seeing The Who playing at the Super Bowl halftime “reminded me of a much-told legend that floated around the north Baton Rouge Redemptorist neighborhood where I grew up, that The Who and Herman’s Hermits had played on the Redemptorist football field in the mid-1960s.”

It’s no legend, Ken. According to past columns S.J. Montalbano, of Montel Records, put on a Herman’s Hermits concert in 1967 at St. Gerard Majella Field —Redemptorist High’s stadium — with The Who as an opening act.

Well, what a positively geriatric baby boom indulgence is the performance of "The Who" at the Superbowl.

I think they're canny enough to take the money, embarrass themselves, and put paid to the notion that they should tour again.

"See me, feel me, touch me, heal me" indeed.

Peter Townshend has never fooled himself about this stuff. Many years ago he said he couldn't replicate that angry young man because first, he wasn't young, and second, he was rich, and it was hard to be angry while rich.

First try at a King Cake using a recipe from last week's food page in the Baton Rouge Advocate.

We bought four copies of this out-of-print cookbook for holiday gifts, at the young'uns' request.

This recipe is worth four bucks:

Spicy Mint Potatoes

6 medium potatoes
2 tbsp butter
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 tbsp chicken bouillon granules
2 tbsp hot milk
1/2 cup finely chopped fresh mint
2 green onions, finely chopped
1/2 cup shredded cheddar
1 tsp mild curry powder

Wash the potatoes and bake at 400 degrees until just tender. (Or microwave, or whatever.) Cut the potatoes in half and scoop out the centers. Place the shells in a shallow baking pan and the flesh into a bowl.

Mash the potato flesh and add the butter, lemon juice, chicken bouillon and milk. Mix until smooth. Add the chopped mint and green onions. Spoon the mixture into the potato shells.

Combine cheese with curry powder and sprinkle on top of the potatoes. Cover the pan with foil.

Place the pan on a preheated barbecue and cook over a moderate heat for about 15 minutes or until the potatoes are hot and the cheese is bubbly. (Or pop into a 350 degree oven for the same time.)

Gold potatoes worked well. The picture in the book showed red ones.

It's a small one, but I like this outdated oven in the in-laws' house.

Girl rarely used it, so it didn't require cleaning.

It hinges on the side:

That's no good.

Mr. Parker died at his desk yesterday.

What a neurotic.

The in-laws' house sold the second day the sign was out front. The family was looking for a fair price, not to maximize profit.

But there was the niggling matter of those two scummy taps in the back shower stall bugging me no end. So I took care of that this morning, I feel better, and I'm done. There.

But this week is to be mostly clear with temps in the 70s. This house could use care, too.

Let's taste this recipe for Oven Fried Mustard Chicken tonight.

I'll let you know.

UPDATE: The chicken is moist and flavorful, but I ain't crazy about the texture of the bran flakes, even if the flavor is fine. Next time I try this, I'll use panko bread crumbs. Then it might be a keeper. It's certainly easy.

On the side were cauliflower florets and broccoli spears tossed with extra virgin olive oil, salt, black pepper and sliced garlic, then roasted at 425 degrees. Served with a squeeze of lemon.

Oh, and a slice of peasant bread from the recipe in the book.

Today's recommended cleaning agent is Cameo Aluminum and Stainless Steel Cleaner.

That polished up the aluminum frame of a shower door when nothing else would do. No more scum or hard water deposits.

I have some aluminum frames around here that could use some work too, and this stuff has been under the sink for years for the stainless steel in the kitchen. Never read the whole label. Recommended for chrome, too.

I've been getting a jump on spring cleaning over at the in-laws' house.

Girl will be staying at the assisted living center, and their house is up for sale.

She was an OCD fastidious housekeeper until she couldn't keep up with it any more, and it shows up the past few years. Mind, she'll be 90 in March and rarely complains about the arthritis in her hands.

White ceramic tile covers the floors in the small laundry room (which also served as carport entry) and the kitchen, the proper foyer and hall to the bedrooms. Over the years the kitchen tile had become grimy. Now it looks like new.

Here's what I did: sprayed with full strength LA Totally Awesome Cleaner (1/2 gallon concentrate sells at Family Dollar for $3.15), scrubbed languidly with any kind of non-scratch scrub pad, then mopped with clean water. I worked sections, maybe a square yard each. Some spots needed a spray or two more, but the floor is gleaming.

I also like this stuff for grime around light switches and door knobs.

Now, if I can move everyone from here to that clean house, and work on this one while they're gone, we'll be a happier family.

Okay, okay, Jordana.

I did buy the book for Christmas. We've used the Master recipe (unbleached all-purpose white flour) and have moved on to a half-recipe of light wheat.

We don't eat a lot of bread, so a refrigerated dough that can be used for two weeks is up our alley. And the taste is good. Even Lyman likes it, the boy who went to school in New Orleans where the fresh-baked baguette is common fare. (Don't mistake me here, the French baguette is another loaf, much lighter.)

I'll start looking for rye flour for a peasant loaf.

For other readers, this is what we are talking about.

Egg for Lucy this morning.

Oh, Lucy.

There was an egg in the cage this morning. First for 2010.

There have been other eggs since the accident. Two in the week of Dec. 13.

Y'all have a happy and prosperous new year.

Maybe I'll have a few glasses of wine and work out the moves to the Pharaonic Chicken dance.

Pharaonic Chicken? If you say so.

Let's give it a try anyway.

UPDATE: It's a keeper. Not for people who don't like lemon. Those slightly exotic Middle Eastern flavors delight me every time. Wilted spinach went well with it.

Don't let me forget about this scalloped potato recipe.

My, my, Lucy, but that dish was good. I did increase the dry mustard to 1/2 teaspoon, and used a lot more black pepper, but that had nothing to do with the creaminess of the sauce or the infusion of green onion flavor.

Hope you had a happy Christmas day.

Merry Christmas, y'all!

Aren't these little guys cute? And pricey.

What a face!

Masked Booby is the cutline, pic by Theodore Cross

Hissssss. I used correct procedures this time and still had to whirl that batter in the food processor to make it smooth. I'm doing the sweet potato cheesecake again for the Christmas luncheon on Friday.

This year's menu: shrimp cocktail, shrimp and corn soup maque choux style, Caesar salad, braised beef short ribs with mashed potatoes, and cheesecake with whipped cream.

Yeah, yeah, two shrimp dishes. This family loves shrimp. And the soup is a top notch dish from John Folse, similar to gumbo.

Let's get into the sweet potato cheesecake. It was something of a mess, but everyone said it tasted delicious.

The biggest problem was that it was lumpy, and that was because I am not much experienced in the baking of cheesecakes. And it's possible that the editors of the mag are even less.

The recipe:

Crust

2 c. graham cracker crumbs, crushed
1/4 c. cup pecans, finely chopped
1/2 c. melted butter

Combine and press into 10" springform pan

Filling

3 8 oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened
1 c. sugar
4 large eggs
3 egg yolks
3 tbs. flour
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. ginger
1 c. whipping cream
1-1/2 c. mashed sweet potatoes

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Beat cream cheese, sugar and eggs until smooth; beat in the flour, cinnamon and ginger. Beat cream and well-mashed sweet potatoes on med. speed of hand-held mixer just until well-combined. Add to cream-cheese mixture. Pour batter into the prepared crust. Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes, then lower heat to 275 degrees and bake one hour longer. Turn heat off and leave in the oven to cool for several hours, or cool on a wire rack. Top with whipped cream or caramel sauce.

So there it is. I checked other recipes for ingredients, but not technique. I added a more than generous teaspoon of vanilla and a quarter teaspoon of nutmeg.

Subsequent reading do say, beat that cream cheese until creamy smooth by itself, then add the sugar until thoroughly combined, then add those eggs one at a time until the whole mass is smooth. That's how you avoid lumps.

Lumpy still? Spin the batter through a food processor or blender until it smooths out.

I also thought the center wasn't set as well as could be. Do you cheesecake bakers have a solution for that?

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

It's been quiet around here. Nothing to write home about. We'll be having dinner today so Lyman's younger son and his lady friend can be back on the road to Georgia tomorrow. She'll be working on Black Friday.

I did enjoy Wolf Hall, and am looking forward to the sequel.

Yesterday, I tried a sweet potato cheesecake recipe from a small magazine we receive from an electrical utility in Alabama. We'll let you know.

Frozen strawberries in syrup were packaged in a waxed box with metal ends in the early sixties.

I remember sitting on the linoleum floor in front of the console TV set with the nearly round screen, eating thawed strawberries from the box, and watching Soupy Sales on a Saturday morning.

RIP, Mr. Sales.

UPDATE: There were Roadrunner cartoons after, then American Bandstand, then the event worth waiting for -- ABC's Wide World of Sports.

Birds.

Lucy has decided that she prefers my left hand to step up. She's also left-footed now.

She's doing great in the new cage. I need to power up the the Panasonic to give you pictures.

The little Vivitar doesn't do the job for her.

Dinner party!

Charles (the brother) has a 65th birthday coming up, and the lovely Liza, Michael's lady friend, is coming into her mid-thirties soon. Marsha, Charles' friend, turned 60 last month. Time for dinner.

The menu:

Oysters Rockefeller from this book

Salad from Antoine's cookbook, with mixed greens, blanched asparagus, hearts of palm, avocado, marinated artichokes, tomato and vinaigrette

Boeuf en daube -- served on mashed potatoes

Cherry pie

There is a pretty woman under there.

Quite the getup, eh? And she was still cold.

My sister, the Harley girl. She rode in a troupe with other couples from Dallas to Oklahoma this weekend.

My trip was on a Kawasaki. Which I did once. Which was enough.

If you had told me as late as 45 years old that I would spend a Sunday watching a small animal's reaction to a cage, I would have laughed out loud at you.

Lucy is smart and tough. What a girl.

I have been in touch with a couple of rescue organizations about Lucy's rehab. Again, keep the perches low and food and water dishes within easy reach. For a while at least, put something soft at the bottom of the cage so she doesn't go bonk. Cover slick perches with Vetrap. (3M is too cool for its shirts.) Try to find a cage wider than high, which is easier said than done, though I have one, and Charles (the bird) will fight to a feathery death to keep it for himself.

Lucy's new cage is not particularly high, but it looks like a palace to her.

It has rope perches, cholla perches, and a nice platform perch to sleep on or to hide under. Horizontal bars for climbing. So far, she pretty much hates it, but that's about half an hour's stay with no treats.

The birds and I have been burning up my credit card for online purchases.

Lucy and I are slowly coming back to a point of trust where she doesn't feel the need to chew my hands up when I touch her.

I have been telling Lucy that we have a new cage for her coming. It arrived late this afternoon. She can barely stand aside to let us put it together.

I put a new perch in Charles' cage and he won't even go over there.

Birds.

Lucy has healed so well that the doctor took out stitches today. She has been released from this episode. Yea, Lucy!

MORE: And Charles (the brother) had cataract surgery on the other eye today in Jackson. Everything went fine.

And here's our girl today, ten days after surgery. Only one more dose of antibiotic to go.

Sutures come out in four days. The local vet will do that.

MORE: I still think that Ole Miss was foolish not to adopt the female Eclectus as a mascot. This little girl is some kind of formidable when riled. Scares grown men.

So what if the Eclectus isn't local. Are tigers local to Louisiana?

For the birds:

.

Charles Gore, the Grey, has decided that it's his responsibility to sleep in the corner of his cage closest to Lucy's cage. Standing guard? Bird solidarity?

I liked William Safire.

I can't think of anyone like him now.

She is vocalizing today, in her random way, which all sounds good.

Oh. Why the gloves?

Lucy is taking meds orally from a syringe. This entails wrapping her in a towel and holding her head firmly in one hand, without strangling her, and administering with another.

MORE: Today, Sunday, we have three more doses. I wonder how long it will be before she trusts me with a step-up command again?

Lucy is furious with me. I have to remove soiled towels from her cage immediately (runs around five or six or seven or eight daily) and medicate her twice a day.

I am now wearing a pair of knit gloves inside a pair of leather gloves to handle her for the efforts. She sharpens her beak nightly.

It was coming.

Kiddo, I didn't throw you against the wall or slam you to the ground. It was an accident.

Now I know how my mother felt when I came home after being hit by a car (that, slick as a snake, I ran in front of).

What a brilliant effort, Boozle! I'd bet at least one of her owners is a singer.

I have a thesis for Max.

Post-surgery care and rehabilitation of the companion parrot after amputation of one leg mid-femur.

What I can find on the Internet, and the vet student can find on the vet-med database, is to keep the perches low and in good reach of food and water. And that's about it.

There is some mention of horizontal bars on cages for a beak-oriented bird like Lucy. And that IS it.

Adrienne researched for me. She went all over. Basically, "Give 'em a place to perch and feed'em and they'll be fine," was what she found.

Parrots are a big industry, and I'd like more information. Maybe Max and I can make it our thesis.

MORE: Shhhhhhh. Lucy is perched and tucked.

Lucy is home. She murmured all the way.

She really wanted to be up where she could see, but that's hard on a girl who's been sitting flat all week.

First thing she did at home was work her way onto her cage's perch and promptly learned how to turn around. What a girl!

Adrienne tells me that Lucy is doing fine. Her appetite is good. She is not paying any attention to the incision, so no need for a collar so far.

I talked to her on the phone again. She likes that.

Tomorrow, then.

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.