I have a question.

Lyman's younger son called to ask "Is there a word for the overcooked rice at the bottom of the pan?" He was with a group of friends, and one thought there was such a word, and that it might begin with a "p".

I said that I thought I'd heard of at least one, but I couldn't recall.

I've been researching today. Iranian cookery has the term "tahdeeg," but that is an intentional effect, as is "socarrat" in paella cookery.

Seems Louisiana or South Carolina, the states where cooks used rice in recipes before the advent of Asian or Latin influence, should have a term or terms.

Do you know anything about such a thing, regardless of origin?

I always liked the chewy stuff.

UPDATE: Chef Mojo here offers "pegao" from Puerto Rico. A reader there offers "okoge" from Japan.

I found "concon" from the Dominican Republic.

UPDATE: Ah, Mostly Cajun says "gratin" for the Cajuns.

What about the Carolinas?

UPDATE: I'm still missing anything from the Carolinas. It's there somewhere, I'm convinced.

So I've e-mailed the Culinary Institute of Charleston.

What's the harm? So they might ignore me.

Sorry, we've been to Jackson for a bone marrow aspiration.

So, catching a greasy hog by the tail, Charles asks, "Where is Miss Piggy on the lipstick issue?"

Lyman's son, Michael, has always thought he'd like to run a food establishment.

He's working with a man who's on contract to Cleco electic. They're in Alexandria now. He's waking in the morning to feed 600-800 people breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I was a waitress in food establishments and learned that wouldn't be my career.

He showed up yesterday for a day off. His clothes stank, his feet hurt, and he was appalled by theft and waste.

Welcome to the big world.

The big oak was walloped by Gustav.

But nothing else was damaged.

Read the Louisiana links at left to find worse.

Family friends with a three-week-old baby are at the coastal condo for an electric fix. They aren't expecting electricity in their area of Baton Rouge for a couple of weeks.

Here is a report on what we might expect locally from Gustav. The hurricane has degraded to a Cat 2, though, and effects might be lighter than previously expected.

It's fair to expect that we'll lose power for a short while. Ms. Alexander used to complain that we'd lose power anytime a cloud came over.

Good Lord. Maybe they should have given the the Clinton campaign some say in the convention.

Nothing better to rouse the blue collar guys than a sailboat skimming across Nantucket Bay.

Ted Kennedy is "Still the One".

UPDATE: Charles said last night: "When are they going to bring on the big speakers? I can't stay up much past ten."

I know Denver is on mountain time, but I'm wrapping things up by 8:30 central and have my nose stuffed in a book by nine most nights. Ted Kennedy came on at 8:30 central, 9:30 in the east, with Michelle Obama much later.

The only thing that kept me up was the new HDTV. Lyman had to have it for the upcoming football season. Anderson Cooper needed a shave. He was developing a shadow on his upper lip.

So I couldn't help but think of the guy who drove here two hours from Winnfield, installed a new dish in the rain, then drove back two hours to Winnfield to the office, then home for some supper and relaxation. That's your conscientious blue-collar worker, too tired to watch past nine.

Have they scheduled the other major speakers as late?

On the other hand, people with school-aged kids can't catch a breath before that time.

This is a chemotherapy day.

It starts at 5:30 and ends at about 5:30, too. Charles has another driver today, so I won't be attending.

He and his driver will arrive in Jackson at about nine. After having a breakfast of biscuits and sausage here they were on the road at seven.

At the hospital, they'll claim one of the wheelchairs and set Charles aside in the lobby while Brian parks. Charles can walk with a walker now, but hospital corridors tire a healthy person. Then it's off to the blood lab for an extraction done by some of the best stickers you'll ever see. Take a ticket and wait in line. A number and a set of labels come to you. Poke, label and done. Then to check-in for the cancer clinic.

At check-in they confirm the patient identity and take vitals: temperature, blood pressure and weight.

Then to the clinic lobby where they'll wait to see a doctor. In two trips, I could see that it was a familiar place. The receptionist has ongoing conversations with the patients she knows.

After about four hours at the hospital, treatment will start, which takes about an hour and a half. The chemotherapy nurse (the last one was a man who spent about half an hour slowly injecting a red drug into the the IV tube close to the port), then the IV drugs will start.

Last time it took about an hour and 45 minutes. Then there's lunch in Jackson, then the drive home.

It's a long day.

And it's a good hospital, if slow. I like the doctors and the nurses and the helpful people in the halls.

I was a little confused when I took Charles to the hospital the first time, when they kept him. The doctor had given me a card, so I emailed him. I had an answer within an hour and a half, signed with his first name.

Oh, for goodness' sake.

Now that 28,000 sq. ft. house makes some sense.

Small griefs.

The dust bit the rugs.

They needed replacing. The ones I liked so much, and in budget. But they were seven years old under hard use.

I couldn't find anything in the market comparable, so here we are.

They look great, but I think I'll regret the purchase soon.

Jordana and I like zinnias.

They're generous.

The greenery (before you ask) is Japanese arrow cane that we planted as a vision and sound brake between neighbors. It works.

Charles is now doing well.

His white blood cell count was too low for chemotherapy on Tuesday, but he's scheduled for next week. Another 5:30 wakeup and two hour drive to Jackson.

When he went in on July 10, his weight was 140.8 pounds. When he went in on July 29 his weight was 158. His average weight healthy and target is about 180. I know that he weighed 154 in March. We're getting somewhere.

Oh, my. Let's not show this site to Lyman.

Ahem.

When I picked Charles up after chemotherapy today in Jackson, one of the doctors started to give me a lecture about keeping an eye on Charles' calcium level and being sure to bring him in if it ticks up a point or two.

I said I didn't need a lecture, to give it to the boys in emergency, the ones who sent us home after one liter of fluid when I was there with Charles on July 4.

Now everyone is on the same page, I think, and I plan to keep them on their toes. Dammit.

Starbucks is having some problems.

I've been reading the gossip. What I'm not seeing on the gossip site is the possibility that the Starbucks entity has run its course. It's been out there for how many years, 20? Well, that's about right for a popular trend.

Let's face it, the people buying grand venti macchiato caramels with extra whip never liked coffee in the first place. Starbucks didn't thrive on a $2 espresso. When gas goes to 4 bucks a gallon, a bag of Chips Ahoy does the trick at less expense.

I'd guess it's seen its day.

Now Charles is at the VA hospital in Jackson undergoing more testing and treatment for hypercalcemia, which mainly entails hydration.

He went in for chemotherapy and the doctors didn't like the look of his current failure to thrive.

Good. That's why I took him to urgent care there on July 4.

For Papa Possum, Happy Birthday!

Took a little ride to Vicksburg today with my brother. Pulled into the Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot two blocks from the hematologist's office to answer a phone call.

It was the doctor's nurse telling me that we didn't need to come in after all, that chemotherapy is scheduled tomorrow at the Veterans Hospital in Jackson. We have to be there at 9 a.m.

That was an hour-and-a-half drive up there.

Tomorrow's run is two hours one way.

Ah! We've had a visit from the fish fairy. That's a redfish tail.

Interesting semi-sports news.

(Thanks, OTB Sports.)

I don't care for the song, but Merle Haggard is a handsome old dog. That's the kind of man's face I find attractive.

Here's Mr. Haggard as a child. He looks like Brando's Stanley Kowalski in "Streetcar Named Desire."

(Thanks, Mr. Walker.)