My brother came by to pick up oxtail stew for tomorrow, and greens and peas for today.

He'd found a serious ding in the doorframe above the driver's side window in his car.

Unless someone walked up and whacked it hard with a small ball-peen hammer, it's a bet that a bullet from one of those New Year's Eve shots into the air hit it.

I doubt that Longfellow would approve. Especially if it hit his car, or lamb.

I picked this recipe off of a Southern Living message board. This is as good a place as any to store it.

Oven Baked Beef Stew

1 Tbsp. oil
2 lb. stew meat, cut in 1½" cubes
1/3 c. flour or 1/4 c. cornstarch
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. marjoram
12 oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained
10 oz. beef or vegetable broth
1/2 cup dry red wine
2 cups cube peeled potatoes
1 cup sliced celery
4 medium carrots, sliced
3 small onions, quartered
1/4 tsp. pepper

Preheat oven to 325º. Heat oil in 4 quart Dutch oven over medium. Brown beef cubes in oil. Add flour, salt, garlic powder, marjoram and pepper. Stir in tomatoes, broth and wine; mix well. Bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Add remaining ingredients, mix well. Cover; bake for 2 hours or until meat is tender, stirring twice during baking.

I usually add fresh green beans during the last hour of baking, and frozen corn if I have it. I love my stew loaded with veggies. -30-

(Thanks, luvmyhunny.)

Happy New Year to you and yours!

To steal a quote from a commenter I read today, "May your burdens be light even if they aren't few."

The black-eyed peas are soaking, and I'll strip the collard greens soon, to have with a platter of hot water cornbread and grilled chicken.

The menu follows southern tradition.

Hoppin John I will not cook. I tried that many years ago and had a miserable year afterward. Leave that to the Carolinians.

When I was growing up in Texas, my mother's menu always included black-eyed peas, cabbage and corn.

Do you have a New Year's tradition?

What a glossy, rich gravy makes from this oxtail recipe.

I'm leaving out the sugar snap peas, and dropping in a handful of frozen English peas. Less sweet.

If the coming year is anything like the last, best to have a sturdy beginning.

Ain't that cool.

The daughter of the boys' friend wheeled up this afternoon on a Triton (with her dad right behind her.) Grandma and Granddad popped for one for each of two cousins.

I want a big one.

I'm listening to Christmas music on AOL.radio where you can pick your genre.

Classical, for now.

Maybe I can find some Cajun music for dinner, which will be fried catfish today. Yes, Lyman's dad is coming and that's his request.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

I have one stuffed animal that was given to me by an aunt when I was hit by a car 49 years ago, and I want no more.

But I've enjoyed looking at the toys from Fiesta, brought to my attention over at Possumblog.

How about this cutie?

I like the owls, too, and the kiwi.

Today, the part from Sears should arrive, which is remarkable since I just ordered on Sunday and asked for standard shipping. I'll call that a gift.

To you, a Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah, or whatever you choose.

In bird news, Lucy has an egg today. When I sing "We wish you a merry Christmas" to Charles Gore, he responds with "oom papa papa papa oom mau." He's never sensed a need for a second "mau."

$12.42 from Sears' online parts.

The front support for the vegetable crisper in the fridge is defunct.

We just changed cell phone plans. We were with Cingular, which was sucked into AT&T.

Lyman's son told us about a "seeing eye phone" available from Centennial for seniors over 55 (Lyman is 62 -- I'm a young, vibrant 51), which has a larger screen and large keys, but doesn't do pictures or the Internet, or other excess uses for which we have no need. $29.95 a month, for which we will have excess minutes.

We had more than 4,000 rollover minutes from AT&T. I asked if we could donate those minutes to the military. No, AT&T does not participate in such a program.

I got nothing, so here's a sweet picture of Niamh (Neeve) from Kate in the snowlands.

We put together the Christmas luncheon for the folks yesterday. This year's menu was shrimp cocktail, turtle soup, Caesar salad, fried shrimp and oysters with french fries (Lyman's dad's request -- he's growing older and weaker, and is trying to cram as much fried seafood as he can get into his last times) and sweet potato bread pudding with rum sauce and whipped cream.

Ann Althouse is having some fun today.

She's expanded on a post by Orin Kerr about Lawrence Welk shows.

For my part, the costumes in the original clip put up by Mr. Kerr are cheesy, but the routine appears to be standard ballroom dance fare. (Though that little leap to the shoulder at the end nearly took them both down.)

And I'm with Ms. Althouse, that roomful of musicians had probably forgotten more about "toking" than Brewer and Shipley had learned yet.

Peg Britton's husband and best friend has died.

Rest in peace, Mr. Britton.

(Thanks, Diane.)

We're not the only ones who know what a female Soloman Island Eclectus looks like.

Needs work on the beak.

(Thanks, Ms. Althouse.)

That little boy has beets on his plate.

(I love pickled beets, and I never think to buy them. Both my grandmothers canned them.)

I wonder if Batman won that battle, too?

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Since I'm all butch, let's talk about my new kitchen knife.

I now have one of these, on Chef Tony's recommendation, supplemented by good opinions from Cook's Illustrated.

Mine came from Amazon, at just below $22, last week.

It's a light knife for its size, but with a sharper blade out of the box than the expensive Henckels set we bought years ago. The Calphalon was a good looking knife, and sharpened all right, but was some heavy over time.

If you'd like to try a large knife, it's a good way to go.

And as I'm so masculine, I used the Dremel to widen the the upper portion of the slot in our wooden knife block to accommodate its width.

Yeah, yeah, I'm gnarly.

I've been picking up books by Ed Gorman at the library.

The ones I've read are in the mystery/crime genre. His books are unapologetically short, good reads.

But I bring him up because his blog offers plenty of recommendations of television shows, films and books by other authors that he likes.

The political novel, Sleeping Dogs, on the home page of his site intrigues me.

Now that's interesting.

How did they ever come up with that analysis?

(Thanks, Tim Blair, who comes up 73% female.)

UPDATE: Maybe I was stuck in a time warp. Now they're saying my blog has a 58% probability of being written by a woman. That sounds about right. If you hadn't seen this before, it was estimated at 93% male written.

For the bird watchers who come here:

Bird Dance-Off videos from birdchannel.com

A little off-color Christmas humor from Mostly Cajun.

I am still a member of the Nail-Patella Syndrome message board. Amidst a lot of serious talk about DIY dialysis and surgeries to help children walk, a young woman was inquiring about a cosmetic fix for her legs. She doesn't like having ugly legs. Who does?

But it brought to mind this old song, which I posted to the board:



Lyman said he doesn't remember it. I said I do, because I've always had skinny legs.

He says I'm paranoid.

The maker told me some people use these as placecard holders for holiday parties, then "happies" for the guests when they leave.

Silly turkeys. Kids would love them.

Happy Halloween!

Our very own Phil Spector done dark.

The treat is oyster Rockefeller soup from Artist's Palate.

Dummy.

I looked at this headline and thought, well, Lousiana has the Sugar Bowl, and Florida has the Orange Bowl, and Dallas has the Cotton Bowl, so what does El Paso, Texas, have to do with spaghetti?

This.

Let's talk glamour.

Yesterday Lyman disconnected the toilet seat in the master bath and took it to LCR.

The old American Standard seat is available, but we need to match "1962 beige." We dashed back over with 15 minutes to spare to pick a color.

While they have plenty of options, beige is a booger to match.

"Boo."

Sometimes Louisiana Amendments just look a little weird. We have a whole list for every major election.

Scroll down to number 6 and tell me someone isn't looking for some favors.

That's beyond weird. That's ugly. Or "explain me different."

For a little entertainment, how about some upside-down dogs?

Is anything too silly for the Internet?

(Thanks, Big Arm Woman.)

If Sarah Palin does have to give all her clothes back after the election, concerned citizens should take up a collection to keep that red suit and those boots for her. (See picture 10.)

Five thousand women are going to buy that ensemble and not come near looking as good as she does in it.

The recipe for eggless Caesar dressing that we served last night came from a little magazine called "Diabetes & You" from Walgreen's pharmacy. None of us is diabetic, but the dressing is plenty tasty:

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 anchovy fillets, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 head romaine lettuce, chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Whisk together lemon juice, anchovies, garlic and mustard in a large bowl; slowly whisk in oil. Stir in cheese and season to taste with salt and pepper. Add lettuce, toss and serve.

We had spare cheese to grate over and the pepper mill at the ready for anyone who wanted more.

This will go onto the Christmas brunch menu, along with the sweet potato bread pudding. This bread pudding is much lighter than many, more like a custard.

Big birthday celebration today -- my brother turned 64.

Tonight's menu: Osso Buco Milanese, linguine marinara, Caesar salad, and sweet potato bread pudding with rum sauce.

At his last weigh-in in Jackson, Charles was up to 169.2 pounds, up from 140 when he was released from the nursing home in June.

He walks with a cane. He signed a lease for a different house today, one that doesn't have such a long flight of steps to the entry, and will resume his own life on November 1.

My Dustbuster died.

So on to the Internet for some research. After reading about a thousand reviews, I decided on one of these, based mainly on information here.

I bought it at Sears, where the price was $59.99. KMart has the Shark SV736 at $39.99, but carpet and upholstery are not the main culprits around here. Bird area and bathrooms, the office and kitchen are the places that need the frequent quick swipe.

The main complaint I'm reading about hand-held vacs now is that the batteries don't last long. After a year or so, the batteries won't recharge. This B&D has a two year warranty, so wish me luck.

Just testing this morning. Will it suck up mosquitos and fruitflies?

Trying something new this evening.

Great aroma.

UPDATE: That's a keeper in our household. We found it in a sample issue of the magazine Cuisine at home.

What does Tom Wolfe have to say about the current meltdown?

The boys and girls are just fine.

All right, already.

But who called the margin? Where, particularly, did the liquidity fail?

Someones, somewhere, called in the debt. Who did it?

Teach me.

UPDATE: What exactly was it that tripped the trigger in the last month? Quarterly reports?

Something happened to pitch everyone into a panic. I've been watching this at the New York Times and no one says right off what set things off. Something did.

UPDATE: Four quarterly losses, I think I'm reading.

Paulson and Lockhart unveiled a four-part plan to come to the aid of the agencies, which have sustained combined losses of $14 billion in the past four quarters.

Fendi for Spring.

Look at that hair. I can do that!

Can't think of a better time to repost this cartoon.

(Thanks, Tim Blair, for such a repeatedly useful bit.)

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.)

What really pisses me off here is that homosexuals are being thrown out of the services right and left. My brother had no choice. He served under the draft for Vietnam.

Now that he has Hodgkins (care of Mayo Cinic) they're dragging their feet.

Hard, isn't it, when you choose to send men or women to war?

UPDATE: Now that's better. 18 approved visits to a local rehab center. Only two weeks lost here.

Hell, yes, I'm cranky. We loaned Charles $10,000 for the nursing home because no one else was forthcoming. Time is a factor here, y'all. And my back hurts, right buttock and thigh.

Trouble here.

I don't know whether it's depression or something medical, but I'm getting no cooperation out of my brother.

This won't do.

Ye gads.

I was at the desk at the nursing home receiving instructions from Charles' nurse when the buzzer started buzzing and a man started screaming for a nurse.

After another nurse went to his room, I suppose, he started to yell.

"What have I done to deserve this?"

Charles said he hoped it wasn't the new admit who had a leg amputated from complications of diabetes.

Fat chance it wasn't, I think.

Charles has the crud, feels lousy. He has a low temperature. Pneumonia wouldn't be welcome about now, but a possibility.

UPDATE: Nah, nah. He had a pneumonia shot.

Charles went to the hospital in Jackson on March 21.

He's coming here from the nursing home tomorrow. He's up to using a walker now.

Radio XM40 notes:

Allman Brothers, Back Where It All Begins

I wanted to throw back the sunroof on the G35 and ride the road.

I could use a much cheaper car, but I'm not so sure I want to do without satellite radio anymore.

The son says to wait until XM and Sirius merge, as they are almost sure to do.

Lucy is making a honking noise sometimes during her mating ritual which sounds like she's playing a kazoo.

I have a question.

On I-20, in Vicksburg, and approaching the center of Jackson, MS, the A designated exits (such as 40A) go south and the Bs go north. Is that true all along I-20? All along east-west interstates?

Lucy laid an egg during her bath today.

This guy must search for Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

So is Al Gore totally out of the question as VP? Would it be such a step back for him? It couldn't be sweetened in any way with him in mind?

Al Gore was vice-president for eight years before, narrowly missed becoming president in 2000, and is now making money hand over fist doing things he believes in and loves.

Why would anyone think he'd volunteer to run as Obama's VP?

That is crazy talk.

Charles Gore is saying "Oak" today. That's part of his address.

Decrepit old men be dragging me down.

Notes:

Cataract surgery for a left, and only working, eye today for Lyman -- successful so far

Dr. in Vicksburg working at getting Charles into VA at level required -- so, so

Charlie says "Charles Gore" thirty-five times.

This one is good, too.

I added two cans of Rotel tomatoes, and used chicken broth rather than water to cover the pork. Only 1 tablespoon of chipotle in adobo.

I doubt that it's particularly authentic, but it was tasty and easy to cook.

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.

A really pretty picture of a mother and child. Thanks, Kate!

I do have to wonder about that Irish name, Niamh, pronounced "neeve." Those old bards were heavily into the mead when they came up with that spelling, hunh?

Charles reports that the doctor says that if he can get on his feet with a walker this week, he'll come home by the weekend.

This is the seventh week he has been in hospital. (Useful English usage here, since he's been in two hospitals during this time.)

Our brother from Euless, in the Dallas metro area, is going to visit today.

I shocked Charlie by shouting a loud "No!" at him for biting me hard while I was delivering a food dish.

Charlie was so hurt that Lucy is preening his head. Shush, don't say anything.

And I've started using Mean Green as the main laundry stain remover and laundry additive. It works as well as dedicated products at half the price.

You know something is amiss when a woman walks out of the dollar store with two gallons of Mean Green cleaner concentrate.

The Viking rangetop and vent hood are fire hazards.

If Lyman could or would clean half as well as he cooks, I'd consider myself a lucky woman, indeed.

Lucy has finally had it with sitting eggs. It never works for her.

She still lays them -- had one this morning -- but now she eats them.

Lyman's running for the board at the condo. One of the old guard is livid.

Sorry. Suck it up. She should be glad I'm not running. Lyman is tactful.

UPDATE: He was elected. Oh, my.

Just for women.

But it's Lucinda Faberge who has sheer star power.

I've looked at my videos. Hers has more views than any of Charlie's, without saying a single word.

Yeah, yeah.

The birds are hanging around.

What will I do when Charlie says, "Charles feels like French panties"?

Silk, you know. The boy has a good texture.