My, my, folks. This recipe is dandy.

What about that blonde, boys?

How about Dick Dale and Stevie Ray Vaughan together?

(Thanks, Ms. Althouse.)

The image with this story reminds me of something.

And no, it's still not finished.

Rats! I think I have a stress fracture in my left foot.

It's happened before.

But not on a Memorial Day weekend.

UPDATE: Just a bruise, I think now, but I can't think when I bonked something.

I'll continue to insist that the best life advice was given to me by a scarf clerk at Dillard's department store.

I had somehow not paid my bill, and she was directing me to the credit department.

She told me to exit the escalator upstairs, then to "not go straight, but go forward."

She meant that I should dodge the display at the top of the stairs.

"Don't go straight, go forward," has become a tenet.

I have a happy story, too.

Lyman's son, Michael, and I went to bring Charles to Natchez from Jackson yesterday. He'll spend several days in a nursing home there for physical rehabilitation.

It's a heck of a lot easier to attend to someone's needs when he's eight minutes away.

My sister sent this happy story.

Blog writers and commenters aren't even trying anymore.

Once again:

"I led the dog by his leash down the sidewalk." Not l-e-a-d

"The PETA protesters observed us with disdain." Not d-i-s-t-a-i-n

I'm not always right when I write, but I'm not always wrong, either.

Been talking to the local Veteran's Service Officer today. The VA bureaucracy is just below the IRS for efficiency and compassion. Mind, the local service officer is top-notch.

Now for a quote from the back of Shellie Tomlinson's book, Suck your Stomach In & Put Some Color On!: What Southern Mamas Tell Their Daughters That the Rest of Y'all Should Know Too:

Hickey my hind end, give that boy a pacifier!

Hell, no wonder the middle class is feeling that they don't have enough.

This year, on HGTV, a family has a tract $650,000 house, that needs $300,000 worth of improvements to make it comfortable for a family.

We used to be taught paint solutions to small houses.

The economy isn't that screwed, it's that everyone thinks every child needs a cell phone, a laptop, and a new SUV to carry them around.

Yo, kids, we just middle class.

Here's one for Kate.

I hope Ms. Tomlinson's book signing wasn't rained out. At about 2 p.m. it began to pour here. An inch and a half of rain fell.

I arrived at 12:30, splitting the difference between the noon mentioned at Shellie's site and the 1 p.m. stated at Turning Pages' site. She was just driving up as I was reaching for the door handle.

She's just what she appears to be at All Things Southern. I'm glad I met her. But I didn't have my color on, and so sadly, missed a photo opportunity.

Shellie Tomlinson of All Things Southern will be at Turning Pages tomorrow, 1-3 p.m, to sign her new book, Suck Your Stomach In & Put Some Color On!

I think I'll go. She's a funny girl.

Today I'm off to Jackson for a short visit with the brother.

Drats! Tim's site was always good for a little entertainment. Commenters had fun there.

I wonder how many sacks of crawfish have been cooked in Louisiana during this Mother's Day weekend?

Lyman and Michael cooked this one yesterday.

I used to go there in the late 70s. Good job, Empire!

Nuzzle, nuzzle, kiss, kiss, a whispered "Hot-Water Cornbread," and I just got myself a pretty blue dress. Lyman likes blues. And hot-water cornbread.

Yes, ladies, I'm shameless. Happy Mother's Day.

Windows without crosspieces 1
Wild birds -1

What a depressing morning. Yesterday I cleaned the birds' window so they could see out.

This morning a wild bird flew into it and broke its neck, I guess. Poor little thing. Or a real dummy. Maybe he didn't have a chance in life. It's the first time that's happened.

I received a comment on Lucy's "Hormonal Lucy" video today.

The owner of a Red-Sided Eclectus says he doesn't think her behavior is hormonal but "begging" behavior.

I have $500 in vet bills and thirty Eclectus eggshells that say this guy or gal should keep they opinions to themselves.

Lucy's middle name ain't "Faberge" for nothing.

Oh, dear. A pretty dress in a gorgeous color.

Where was it last year when I was looking for a dress for a wedding?

I could compete with Lucy in that dress. Well, maybe not.