So, in the course of conversation last night, I said something about the bird Charlie. The bird looked up and said, "Charles."

I stand corrected. Jeez.

Lyman's boys like breakfast. I don't.

But to keep them from spending $30 on omelets this morning, I baked this casserole.

That's a keeper.

And I'm giving up trying to make a good biscuit. Mary B makes a big, fluffy, gravy-ready biscuit in 20 minutes.

I spoke to Miss Betty yesterday, and the absolute word on Southern funeral attire is that it's not improper to wear open-toed shoes.

By observation, a woman can slso wear trousers without gathering ill-opinion.

Also, by observation, if you can can away with it physically, uncovered shoulders are fine, too. No sloppy, swaggy flesh, thanks.

That was in a Southern Baptist church in Vidalia.

I don't know about Natchez.

Lyman's father died peacefully this morning near 7:30.

UPDATE: For locals who would like to make a gesture, in lieu of flowers send donations to:

Streams of Life Food Ministry
10140 Whiteoak
Baton Rouge, LA 70815

Streams of Life

Just watching the lead-in tape before the overall yoga session, I discovered that I was doing one of the asanas wrong.

In this "asana" she told me to lift my legs to a 45 degree angle. So I lift my legs to a 45 degree angle off the floor and proceed with instructions.

In the pictures, she is lifting her legs to a 45 degree angle on the other side of her body, which is over her head. She's coming from the other end of the axis.

I'd call that a 135 degree angle.

In all, I like it better, the getting up on my shoulders, but we need some agreement about geometry.

Charlie's newest phrase is "Oh, no!" Remember Mr. Bill?

Oh, so now everything carries guilt?

At the MSN homepage today there is a "Guiltless Guacamole Recipe."

My first thought was "What are those people adding to their guacamole? Olive oil? Mayonnaise? Tequila?"

One regular guacamole recipe looks like this.

Let's look again at the recommended recipe. White beans in guacamole to cut fat?

Sorry, kids. Use the full fruit and eat the beans on the side. Eat less, if it bothers you that !@*%$#@ much.

Where do y'all come from?

I posted this at Althouse:

I fault Sarah Palin for having the poor judgment to accept a nomination that would bring young, unwed, pregnant Bristol onto the public stage.

How many times have we heard the term "teenage pregnancy" in the last say, 40 years, as something to be contained?

Now everyone's supposed to say, "Well, that's cool," then pay for her delivery and the support of the child in the Naval Observatory?

Hell, I didn't like the way the Bush girls dressed at the 2004 convention. Some occasions demand some formality, and a nomination to the presidency or vice-presidency is one of them.

But, back to to my topic, you can't break with a social narrative (call it a more, if no longer a taboo) that hard and not expect criticism.

Should that have applied to Trig? Not at all. None of us has control over our genes.

Have at it.

Lucy rarely speaks anymore, but yesterday while I was reading in the bedroom and Lyman was doing errands, she belted out a wonderful array of natural bird calls -- the kind you hear above the rain forest down home with clacking and monkeys.

The girl gone native.

OK, birds. Which tape do we want to run today?

Charlie started to chant along with the singer at the end of one tape the other day. Will he start chanting yoga meditation mantras?

The toning tape? Oh.

If Governor Mark Sanford's sons were a few years older, I can imagine them pulling on his suit sleeves and saying, "Dad, Dad, it might be a good idea not to talk about this now."

It would be hard to reconcile with a man who stated in public that his lover was his "soul mate," but he would be making efforts to fall back in love with me.

That limb he's sitting on would look awfully fragile to me about then. Especially if I were a Skil heiress. Bzzzzzzzzzt.

The first of the great summer meals tonight: fresh-shelled purple-hull peas cooked with a bit of bacon, fresh sliced tomatoes, fresh sliced cucumbers, a bit of ham and buttermilk cornbread.

Summer Southern Sunday Supper.

That toning workout was fine until yesterday. Then I was sore enough that I laid off a day from the yoga. Today I went back to the beginning tape.

For this beginning phase I need to establish a rhythm. Maybe alternating the first tape and the relaxation tape for three days, then the toning tape, then a day off. Until I am stronger.

Meh. That toning workout wasn't so bad until the part where you lie flat on the floor, lift both legs together then turn them in circles, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise.

And of course, there was a balance exercise, at which I suck. Never mind which one.

This morning I did Wai Lana's relaxation workout. These exercises concentrate on the spine.

The scissors (non-bypass) and sidelifts look a lot like regular calisthenics, just done more slowly and with more concentration on breathing. Then there were a few backbends and such. Don't be too optimistic. These exercises take some effort. Relaxation comes afterward.

Then there's that tree pose that troubles me so. What's so frustrating is that I used to rest standing with my opposite foot inside my thigh, like Australian aborigines.

(Is aborigine considered a slur now?)

Yeah, yeah, I'll get to that toning workout. Sometime.

Namaste, y'all.

This recipe from Peg Britton went over well here.

Maurice built this accent table for our bedroom.

This is my first scratch stain project. I'll be doing some sanding, using a pre-stain conditioner, staining to spec with oil-based red mahogany stain with maybe a coat of walnut, and finishing with polyurethane.

The wood is maple. It's 98 degrees outside.

UPDATE: It's Father's Day. My dad, Joseph the carpenter, has been gone since 1990. Here's my card to you, Daddy.

Rats, I'm late.

Happy Father's Day, all you pops out there!

I had breakfast with my father-in-law at 7:30 this morning at the assisted living center.

He's a good dad, and he's been good to me, too.

I spent a while this morning with Wai Lana after finally buying a new DVD/VCR player. (I found a refurbished Sony at Amazon for $56.00 total.)

I've had these tapes, wrapped, for years. The first tape is a little different from my lessons, but offers a good overall body workout with a mild challenge or two I haven't tried before. My balance is still dreadful.

The birds think I'm nuts. Lucy might even speak again. "WHAT you DOIN, Janis?" I'll practice in their room, which is the great room.

And yes, it's been February since I had lessons. No, I haven't been practicing.

Namaste, y'all.

Being a weirdo myself, with the prospect ahead of replacing a 12/13/14-year-old Ford Escort Wagon, I'm edging toward the Kia Soul econobox.

Reviewers are saying it averages about 30 mpg in mixed driving, which is better than any of the comparable makes and models.

And it's certainly no uglier and more practical than my second-hand First Car with that deluxe plaid interior. Daddy was co-signer, and thought it was just the thing to teach me not to invest my ego into automobiles.

Mine was that tangerine color, and had a white vinyl roof. My sister said it would have been perfect in lime green.

I guess the lesson took.

UPDATE: I don't like those blind spots in the back corners -- the "D post" as the writers call it.