Today promises to be a good day for the birds. Lucy and Charlie both love crawfish, and Charlie adores corn on the cob, raw or cooked.

He talks about it:

"Charlie is a handsome boy. Charlie wants corns. Ok? Ok, sweeties."

All day long.

So white azaleas are in a pint Mason jar in the guest room. E., the young lady from Baton Rouge, is staying the weekend.

Tomorrow we have the season's first crawfish boil for our house. We've invited some lady friends (bless'em, they're widows now), and Michael, the cook, has invited a few friends.

How is that guest room coming, Janis? Well, it's stalled. The woodworker we've asked to build the furniture is having terrible trouble with his artificial knees, and spends a lot of time in pain. Guests have a bed, though, and a lamp, and a chair. The lamp stands on the flipped seat of the vanity bench that was part of Girl's bedroom suit bought when she was 11.

M. the woodworker has begun work on the headboard, but is going no faster than he can manage without harm.

As for the quilt. Ah, well, the ten-year-old quilt top might be 11 or 12 before it's done.

I can say, though, that the laminate floor is a pleasure to take care of. A flick with a dust mop, maybe a swish of a damp cloth, and it's good as new. I can barely wait to do our bedroom.

If I had any sense at all, the whole house would be done in industrial linoleum.

The blossoms on these azaleas are as big as the palm of my hand. They cut well for display in a vase.

These predate my arrival at the Gore house.

This is a particularly pretty tulip. I wish I knew which one it is. Maybe a Rembrandt? Or is it a Juice n' Honey? The Antoinette?

Spring.

That was a lovely wedding.

Music was a flute and a harp. And one vocalist who went on too long. Just a note kids, being on stage is being on stage. Don't fidget.

The big girls were all beautiful. The bride's dress was a crushed silk, with a simple floor-length lace edged veil. That girl has a flawless complexion. I asked her mama if she was trying to outshine the bride. Girl did them both in with a bronze two-piece floor-length that was vintage Hollywood. Just the thing for dinner and dancing at the supper club. She was 87 on the 5th of this month.

The pastor cited Corinthians on love. The pair took communion to "Let us Break Bread Together."

And yes, I cried. Nearly blubbered. And I don't even have to pay for it.

Okay, Kim.

Today is the wedding day. It's beautiful outside, 80 degrees.

Lyman's niece has waited and worked a long time before marrying this boy. Seven years. She'll graduate from law school in May.

I'm having terrific fun watching this flamenco video that I found at Sarah's site.

Watching the videos that come up on the sidebar is fun, too. You know, I might like being a woman.

On the evening of March 6, Lucy laid an egg. I took it away from her yesterday.

I let her sit one for the 28-day term in January into February. Her laying behavior was so weird through November, December and January, I thought it might get her back on schedule.

We'll see.

Kate's business has taken her to China. She's having a little culture shock.

UPDATE: Her latest post reminded me of the excellent way the Chinese serve large groups. The tables are round, with a large lazy Susan in the middle where all the dishes are placed. Settings are at the perimeter of the base table. Guests can serve themselves from whatever dish is in front of them, then spin the Susan along to select another dish. Those tables seat 8 or 10.

Friends of ours had a similar 6-seat table built for their home. It was charming. I love a round table, but we don't have the space for one.

When I was in China with a tour group, the dishes weren't, all in all, quite so ... colloquial (help me here with a better and more appropriate word), perhaps? But I can go the rest of my life without tasting another sea cucumber.

And she missed a digit in her pop. figure for ChongQing -- 31 million and change.

Ok, dear readers. (I'm so nice when I want something.)

We have access to high-quality tuna steaks via a local restaurant. We want to sear thick tuna steaks, and serve them with a sauce or not. We don't like sweet food.

We're not finding anything chasing down our resources.

Do you have something good?

Ahem.

Radley Balko posted a piece on the Waffle House code that's a good companion to this from way back.

Ah. Pumps.

So, I have to track back and correct misinformation.

While we live nestled in an arc of a hydroelectric facility and nuclear reactors, we actually belong to the Louisiana Energy and Power Authority. Most of the facilities in this organization are gas-fired power plants. I don't know yet if they buy from other sources.

(Always do the research, Janis.)

So time to push along the window replacement project.

How the past sneaks up on you.

This morning, during my last dream, I was doing some work with a bizarre little shop. Someone else and I had altered a sign for a product, then presented it for approval.

The sign was not approved because the product name was not in the same font as the product price. The font used for the price was named "Desert Rag."

Lucy laid an egg on the evening of 3/2/07.

I don't know.

Stuffed shells? Spinach salad? Cream of spinach soup? Sarson Ka Saag? (However, I don't think they carry channa dal flour at Piggly Wiggly.) Indian Spicy Fried Spinach?

I love spinach. I even liked the stuff out of the can.

This page needs a little color.