Can y'all ever shut up so I can hear over here?

If you ever thought you were in in danger, you don't count coups.

Do any of you have any experience with the Grrreat Wall?

I'm thinking of one of these to give Charlie some ground-level play space while he recovers. Remember, he can climb a lot of things. What he can't climb he can chew through.

They're available on eBay. Here's the web address of the manufacturer.

Or could we build one cheaper? What is the name of this type of material for a search?

I'm with Mr. Cosh. Wouldn't the great Alberta lupin fields be spectacular?

Well, hell.

It looks like we'll need to start over again with Charlie.

He's popped his belly again. He goes back in tomorrow.

This time, I'll see if we can avoid stitches, and just confine him to his cage. That collar depresses him so that it might interfere with his healing. Surely birds heal in the wild.

UPDATE: After taking a good look at him, not spotting any infection, she suggested doing just that until his keel is feathered over. He'll still need oral antibiotics, which is not a problem.

I'll bite my tongue about the Edwards' new house as long as Miss Elizabeth doesn't suggest that I dry washing on an outdoor line to reduce global warming.

Deal?

Just a note, kids. Do not cross a mutant female turning fifty.

Got that?

Not my favorites, Proctor & Gamble, but I've bought you a little time to come around, twits.

You stank up the Trinity River in Dallas. I'm not in the least surprised that you would stink up my house.

Yes, I'm talking to you. As I was talking to the woman checking me out at the grocery, who uses this product, too.

Click here and scroll down to Anti-bacterial Cleaner. Click again

I have a headache.

There's a reason. I ran all over town looking for the bathroom cleaner I use. It's gone. Off the shelf. So I spent the afternoon sniffing bathroom cleaners.

I'm not happy.

It's a good day in the Gore household.

See, there's sunshine, and no collar.

We've seen the sun here for about 10 minutes during the past two weeks.

I finally managed to transcribe the necessaries into the new address book (2-1/2 years old), so it's not all for nought, but the grey days are getting old.

Predictions call for sun on Friday. It will be welcome.

Ahem. I was interrupted literally midstream, tossing some potatoes down the garbage disposal. The town has a water main break.

So let's talk football.

I watched both games yesterday, and am convinced that the Superbowl this year will be a letdown after the Colts/Pats game last night. The Bears aren't in that league, and being in the same bowl with either of those teams would only hurt the Saints' feelings.

Can't explain why, but I have always liked Tony Dungy. He's not a particularly prepossessing man.

I will note that Joseph Addai is an LSU player done good.

Lyman buys groceries. I buy cleaning supplies.

For bathrooms and some other purposes, I use Mr. Clean Anti-bacterial Multi-Purpose Cleaner. It doesn't bother the birds (though I don't use it on their things) and has a light, pleasant scent. I use the blue "Invigorating Breeze" formula, which isn't too sweet or fruity.

When I last ran out, Lyman offered to replace it. He came home with Mr. Clean Multi-Surfaces Cleaner, blue formula.

I opened that today to work on our office. I can't use it. A billowing cloud of noxious sweetness rose from the bucket. I can't bear it, and fear for the birds.

Maybe it can be used outside. It seems to clean well enough, if you can stand the smell.

I gave up using Joy dish liquid because I couldn't stand the new smell. Does someone know what the formulators have done to create these new, cloying odors?

There's a team. Presto, left, and Beau, right.

I haven't heard from Adler, so I spoke to Butch at Sewing Machine Sales and Service in Jackson, MS. His boss, Mr. Davis, has been in the biz for 42 years. Based on the model number of my machine, he dates it from the late '40s to the early '50s.

What do you think, based on the design?

Far be it from me to criticise my brother.

My heart lifted today when Charlie chose to speak in my presence.

He and Lucy went to the vet together today. The vet removed Charlie's stitches, but suggested that he keep the collar until mid-week next week. Lucy had a trim of flight feathers, beak and toe-nails.

When someone looked in to see them together after all was done, Charlie took up his position beside Lucy, ruffed his feathers and growled for all his worth. He hasn't done that before, and the vet was surprised.

But he hasn't been there with Lucy, either. He looks after her.

My brother has gone round the bend. He's taking in another dog.

This one is a Shih-Tzu/Pomeranian cross named "Beau". He's a little smaller than Yorkie "Presto", and will come from the house down the block from my brother's. The two dogs are happy playmates already.

Beau's current owner has decided to acquire two Dobermans instead. (?)

The same vet attends both dogs, so it's pretty much a matter of moving the food dish. Charles rather hopes Beau will occupy Presto and take some of his greedy neediness away.

UPDATE: My brother's persona is something of the English bachelor uncle. When he said he'd like a dog, I pictured him with a spaniel like Kitchen Hand's Goldie, not two little amphetamine pills.

Andrew Sullivan features "The View from My Window" on his blog. He posts lovely shots of meadows and cityscapes from readers, sunsets, sunrises.

Here is the view from mine. The worker blew the gutter out when he was on the roof several days ago. It's too cold to go wash it now.

Charlie will not speak to or around me.

But he's dying to talk. I was reading in the back yesterday when Charlie piped up and began chattering, beginning right where he left off with "...good tidings for Christmas..." Lyman was sitting beside him.

He said not another word when I entered the room later.

He sees the vet again tomorrow. I hope the collar can come off then.

Here's a biographical note on Cynthia Seton.

UPDATE: And here is her last review from the New York Times, January 13, 1985:

A PRIVATE LIFE, by Cynthia Propper Seton. (Norton, $4.95.) In this, Cynthia Propper Seton's fifth and last novel - published in 1982, six months before she died - a woman who is a writer and editor copes with the realities of the new freedoms of the post-1960's era. One of Mrs. Seton's aims was to explain women's stresses and men's difficulties. Critics found the characters in ''A Private Life'' ironic, witty and compassionate.

We got us some steer-tail soup on the range to combat the chills.

(James Peterson, in Splendid Soups, says most "oxtails" in stores are from steers raised for beef.)

UPDATE: This soup turned out very good. The taste is fuller than I've found with roasts and such. I blew off Mr. Peterson's instructions for straining beyond a first removal of stock vegetables, skimmed the fat, then added freshly cut leeks, carrots, potatoes and turnips to simmer before adding the meat back in. I wanted a sturdy soup, not an elegant one.

I'll be watching for more oxtail recipes. There's a recipe for braised oxtails in the 1963 Good Housekeeping book. That might be next.