I agree with this war much in the tone of Thomas Nephew and Gary Farber. But no one should go forward without reading this post by Salam in Baghdad.

Here's a cheerful departure from the common scum e-mail. 25,000 recipes from Italy and around the world, and I can speak only a few words of Italian. Chow, hon.

Regardless of how low I might feel, a quick trip to Molli Ann's to see how handsome little Sean is growing always cheers me up. She doesn't even know she has a fan.

UPDATE: I might have to delete this post. Sunday night I dreamed that I was mother to not one, but two chubby baby boys. Eeeks, NOT NOW!

All right, I should call the cops. It's pitch dark outside and two girls no more than 22 showed up at my door touting their faith. Keep off my doorstep, proselyters, and keep your pretty girls home after dark. Damn it, can't you understand that girls are taken and killed regardless of faith! I didn't have my glasses on and couldn't read their tags, but this is absolutely unacceptable, not because I have no need of their particular message, but because these young women are in danger. Idiots. We just had another body of a young woman from Baton Rouge found at a Whiskey River boat launch. WTF are you thinking?

To honor Meryl Yourish's Eat An Animal For PETA Day campaign, we will be treating ourselves to Chicken Piccata tonight. Lucy will get a bite, too, little cannibal. No veal, though. I have my limits, and besides, my mother won't let me eat it.

Patricia and Erin left for Dallas yesterday morning and arrived safely home at mid-afternoon. On previous visits, they usually left on Saturday, but some gentlemen friends beckoned them home early. Ah, well. We were all beginning to turn a little inward after four days together, and the long-distance bills were piling up. It was a good visit -- good company, good food, loud laughter, and the girls had some much needed rest. Patricia told me it's always good to come here to rest because she doesn't knock herself out looking for something to do -- because there isn't anything to do.

That's not exactly fair. We could've jumped in the car and ridden up to Vicksburg in an hour or down to New Orleans in 2-1/2 hours. We could've toured the Indian mounds or taken a drive up the Natchez Trace. But after the 6-1/2 hours over here, all the girls really wanted to do was hang out and be fed.

Feed them we did: Lyman's catfish Monday night, spaghetti and meatballs Tuesday night, crawfish and trimmings Wednesday night, and fajitas Thursday night. Patricia e-mailed her boss that she'd be back at work on Monday if she could fit back into the car.

Come to find out, I am a little behind the times (surprise, surprise!). Erin is eighteen years old and in her last year of high school. She has a job and spends her own money as she sees fit, which means that she has had her navel and tongue pierced. Piercings are so common that they're hardly worth comment. We found with our son Jason, the less said the better. If it doesn't arouse the elders, it just ain't hardly worth doing. Cossie, one of the women at the crawfish boil, and I urged her not to do anything to her face, though. Erin is a strikingly pretty girl and it would be a desecration. I also urged her to change her make-up to a more nude look. Why do young girls think they have to wear so much? And such garish colors? That's not what the hot models are doing. Probably did more harm than good with that advice. Thank goodness she's not mine to raise. By comparison, we teens of the seventies were a calm lot. (My ears are burning. My mother is saying, yeah, right.)

The crawfish boil was a success. Six women were present, and Lyman was the cook. He drove down river Wednesday afternoon to buy a 33-pound bag of live crawfish from a family farming crawfish in drained catfish ponds. The crawfish were satisfyingly large for this time of year, so we didn't have to starve to death peeling enough for our dinners. Patricia had never had crawfish before. She picked up peeling them in a snap, found she liked them, and kept pace with best of us. Erin wouldn't touch them. She ate hot dogs instead.

One of our guests was a woman widowed just six weeks ago. The very day her husband suffered a fatal heart attack I sent out the invitations for our party in February. She was, of course, not able to come to that party, but as she's a great fan of crawfish, she was invited to this small gathering. At the end of the evening, once we'd finished eating, she told us that we didn't know what we'd done for her that day. It would have been her 38th (excuse me, that would be 48th) anniversary, she said, and she would have been at home grieving had she not had a safe place to go. Just heart-breaking. We received a pretty thank-you card from her yesterday. Sometimes we do good.

Lucy had a week of it. Patricia was so disappointed early on because Lucy kept her distance and eyed her suspiciously. Patricia kept talking to her, and by Thursday Patricia was stroking her breast. In a few more days they would have been chatting merrily together. As it is, Lucy made a new friend just in time to lose her. We need to expose her to other people more often.

All in all, it was energizing. Now on to the yard.

Peg Britton of Kansas has posted a story of grassroots effectiveness here.

Inspires me to get to work out there in Lucifer's Little Acre. For some, it's the thaw, for some, it's the first robin -- for Louisianans, it's the first crawfish boil that signals spring.

Since when does saying "I love women" translate into half a million e-mails advertising "hot sex with teen Kunts"?

Girls! Girls! Girls!

Rain!

Crawfish boil!

OK. You must go right now to Quana Jones' site for the picture a reader sent. (Friday, March 7, 2003 in the archives. The permalink link doesn't show the picture, for me anyway.)

Lyman has said "Call Kathleen." Kathleen lives across the street. She is married to an old marine and has two boys in the Army reserves. I called Kathleen. She has four children now, the two boys already mentioned and two girls, 16 and 18. I asked her two questions. "Where are the boys?" and "Would one of your girls befriend my niece?" The boys are at Fort Eustace (sp?) in Virginia, undergoing 15 weeks training before they can be deployed. "What do you think of the war?" "It's coming. All we can do is support our troops." "Tell me. I'll buy sunglasses, bake cookies, write notes, send e-mails. Just tell me what they need." "Thank you, Janis."

Many years ago, long before I came to this neighborhood, Kathleen lost a baby girl, Megan, to SIDS. This war is hard on her.

And yes, she thinks it's always good to make a new friend.

So don't expect to hear much from me this week, as my sister and her daughter are coming. I haven't spoken much of Patricia, but she is a pretty, crazily funny and kind woman. I can't wait to have her for a whole week. Her daughter, Erin, has put in an order for Lyman's catfish. (How does Billy Joe Bob do it for only $4.99?)

I might unleash Erin on you. She's seventeen, and I'll predict that she'll be bored without a friend with her.

I want to thank MommaBear and Kathy Kinsley at Site-Essential for introducing me to Iranian Girl. She is a gift:

...It's an ordinary Friday & is our holiday; the weather is great & all signs of nature are reminding me that spring is coming...So I don’t feel like studding at all, you know It's less than two weeks to the end of year & the new year holidays & the high school is not serious at all, no one feels like studding & every ones waiting for free coming days... we have about two weeks & sometimes, a couple of days more holidays for the new year, many ones say that there must be less, I also do believe that generally Iran's holidays are too many , but actually like everyone else I have get used of it & can't stand less than it ;)... Anyway, first days of new year, is the days of dido bazdide eid; that means that all of relatives & friends go to each others houses , just as a matter of seeing each other in the new year, at first the young ones should go & see the olds of the family & then others...I think somehow It's a nice custom, for example there are lots of persons of our relatives that we don't see them in the year at all & It can be a reason for seeing each other, & also the ones who have had argument & are not in touch, must stop these kinds of behaviors & start the new year with kindness. So first days of the New Year is spent on such a think, personally I don't like this custom & have no sense of seeing the ones who I hardly know, but it should be done...there are lots of little things like this that make the great culture of Norooz, & all of them are based on happiness, kindness & nice connection between humans, ... Oh, I feel that nowadays so far we are from these things & we are getting farther & farther, That's why these customs seems strange for this new generation that have been growth in sadness, lie, tricks & have seen many ones who don't care about humans' peace & happiness.
Anyway...forget about these talks, beauty of spring & the magic of nature is another thing & that will destroy all the bad things itself. I'm just waiting for the bride of seasons to come & gives everyone hope of surviving...

Sunshine! Sunshine for Lucy and me!

Iranian Girl is considering some spring cleaning:

My room is a real mess, I wanna make it tidy & clean it; actually killing two birds with one stone, first for the coming year & the Norooz that we should make house nice & clean & also for the little party that I'm gonna have with my friends on the weekend...although here is like hell & I just don't know where exactly I should start from but I'm happy because both of the reasons are good & I have great motivations...

Honey, I feel the same way, except maybe for the "great motivations". When will the weather clear?

Oh, yuck. I haven't seen such overcast since I left Portland, Oregon in 1976. Where went the Sunny South? Where is my book?

Oh, great. Now we have a tornado warning.

I keep trying to do something silly and life overtakes me. Some Christmases ago, I instituted stockings for Lyman's boys. Neither are married, though this past year they were 35 and 27 years old. I shop for nail clippers and emery boards, nail brushes and toothbrushes, pens, post-its, notepads, packs of playing cards and, for a joke this year, duct tape. Every American boy needs a roll of duct tape, right?

Yikes, we're next!

This report from Paul Robichaux targets Louisiana for the next front in the war against WMD. From Sgt. Stryker.