I Guess Maybe It's Like Riding a Bicycle . . .

I wonder if I remember how to publish a post? Maybe I'll just post some pics -- a lot has happened the last year.

The son volunteered to deploy to Kosovo with the Arkansas National Guard 39th Infantry Brigade Combat Team to support NATO. It was a long 10 months, from May 2017 to March 30th!

While he was deployed, we kept one of his dogs, Chelsea Belle (one of the Mysti and Bouie's litter), most of the time. So, yes, we were back to having THREE Labradors most of the time.  Remember when the puppies looked like this?

The dogs really enjoyed one another's company and their favorite game was "Who can get in Mom's lap first?"  And "Let's see if we can get Mom's place on the couch."  They did a lot of napping.

The pups celebrated their 3rd birthday in August. Wow.  Three years.

Pepper was inducted as the very first honoree into the University of Central Arkansas ROTC Hall of Fame in the Fall. Pretty cool.

Grandchild #7 (Another boy! That makes 6 boys!) joined the family last month in mid-March!  While he and his Mama cooled their heels in the hospital, we kept Persephone, more commonly known as "Persi Pup," another of the litter. So, yes, for a few days we had FOUR Labs, including all three of the Yellows pictured above. I truly wish there was an after-market for Lab fur -- we would be stinking rich!

In addition to those events, we had plenty of misadventures with the oldest Grandchild (he turned 18 this February) who was staying with us most of the time while his Dad was gone. The most interesting one happened the night he snuck out a downstairs window to go to a party and we wound up getting "that" call from the Arkansas Children's Hospital Emergency Department at 0200.  While his pride and joy, his Jeep, now rests in pieces, he fortunately didn't do any permanent damage to himself when he drove through a fence while reaching for his cell phone and nearly wound up in a swimming pool.  Pepper, however, didn't share that luck; he had a hypoglycemic reaction in the ER, fainted, and smacked his forehead on the floor.  Not many 68 year-olds can claim to have been admitted, albeit it briefly, to a Children's Hospital.

There was a Family Vacation on Lake DeGray, another adventure in misadventures in which I ended up in the ER after smacking my head on the bathroom counter and wound up with "Raccoon Eyes." Fortunately there was no skull fracture or brain bleed, but I was quite colorful for a month or so. And, no, I will not post a pic here, even though I did post one on Facebook to beat out the sons-in-law who threatened to do so on their terms.

There was the King Biscuit Blues Festival in the Fall, along with Pepper's 46th Reunion of his Army Flight School class held in Nashville (the Nashville in Tennessee, not the one in Arkansas where my Mama was born).  Our first ever trip to The Opry!  There were also Thanksgiving, Christmas, no Bowl game for the Razorbacks, the CAMAN Ball in New Orleans (where I got to wear my crown for the first time in a long time!), birthdays, parties, and just a lot of living in general.  And the Son came home in time for Easter.  Many, many blessings found their way to Moogie's Manor that Easter weekend.

Perhaps the rest of 2018 won't be quite as adventurous.  Having 7 grandchildren and a number of granddogs is plenty adventurous in itself! But, having all of them does make for some pretty cute pics. And lots of memories.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT du Jour

There will be no discussion, observation, or opinion offered on the state of any Jenner, Kardashian, West, or their ilk on this blog.

You're Welcome.

No Longer Exiled in Portales

There's a hole in the internet.

It's the spot once occupied by Norman "Buck" Pennington, who self-identified as "a twice-retired guy (USAF and IT industry) who lives in a motor home, semi-permanently docked in Portales, NM."  I mean, don't you just intuit that a huge spot would be occupied by a guy who's twice-retired, and lived in "interesting" accommodations?

Back in 2011, when I nominated Buck for the "Stylish Blogger Award," (an honor which he politely declined), I described his blog as "Buck's ruminations on most anything that crosses his mind.  And beer.  And cigars.  And music." But there was much more to that blog, and to Buck, than just those few throw-away words.  Much more. I mean, that list doesn't even mention planes, or Buck being a "sensitive seventies kind of guy" (on occasion -- ;-) ), or HOCKEY, for crying out loud!

I first started following Exile in Portales when I ran across one or another of Buck's comments on some blog (probably conservative or satirical. Or both.) back in 2009 when I first started exploring the Blogosphere. It wasn't long thereafter that I began to think of Buck as an actual flesh-and-blood friend. We emailed, we were both Grammar Nazis, we sent each other jokes that shouldn't have been put out there in the Blogosphere to serve as ammunition against us or our families at some point in the future, we commiserated, and gave advice to one another. He schooled me in the phrase, "get off my lawn!" Shoot, he and Andy even taught me how to make the Internet do italics and bold!

I got to know his family -- he adored his family -- and shared his pride in their accomplishments. He got to know my family. He put up with all my posts about our dogs. He rarely failed to post a comment on my posts whether they were about politics or weather or birdfeeders. I could always count on a visit from my friend, Buck.

But, he fell through that hole in the internet late last month, and now he's off on a new adventure in What Follows Next. He's truly no longer bound by physical limitations, or Exiled anywhere in this plane of existence.

I can expect no more visits from my friend, Buck.

But, I can visit his place from time to time and maybe read his Blog from its beginnings. And I can look for updates from his sons on how they plan to carry out Buck's last wishes: to be cremated and scattered at a bunch of fun places.  Well played, sir. Well-played.

I'll miss you, buddy. Enjoy Happy Hour, wherever you are. *clinking of glasses (preferably Waterford)*

Valentine's Day With a Twist

Well, here's a distasteful little twist on Valentine's Day/Presidents' Day:

This billboard is located on I-30 in Little Rock.  It advertises AshleyMadison.com, a "dating service" for married folks whose copyrighted motto is "Life is Short. Have an Affair."  For real.

In a recent press release, the founder of the site explained the connection among the former presidents and her "service" --

"Throughout history powerful men, particularly those in politics, have sought out the romantic company of women who weren't their wives. We chose to honor these three men as each had well-documented affairs during their time in office." In addition to their wandering eyes, Noel Biderman says the men have another major thing in common. "Despite their dalliances, they were still considered heroes by the American people, who never stopped viewing them as great leaders."

The website includes a link to "Infidelity News" and an online Adult Toy Store "by popular demand." And a freakin' blog!

"Great leaders" my foot.  Great politicians, yes, but I'm not so sure about the leader thing, and Bill Clinton is certainly not a hero by any stretch of the imagination.  Maybe JFK, but he went off and got all dead and stuff, so we never saw his full evolution.  I'm not even going to acknowledge that Progressive FDR.

If this is a legitimate business and not some colossal, cosmic joke, then as a society, We. Are. Doomed.

Or, perhaps you may call me "Pollyanna."

It is kind of a clever ad.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Memories in My Blog, Because There Aren't Enough Corners in My Mind

I've had such fun recently, getting back into blogging.  I've even been reading many of my old posts.  (Come on, admit it.  You do that, too!)

This morning I ran across one that made me laugh out loud  (mostly made me laugh  -- there was that little encounter with Ohio State), and brought back some wonderful memories.  From early 2011:

SUNDAY, JANUARY 16, 2011

Just Another Week in New Orleans, With Pictures!

Okay -- I have a semi-serious post rolling around in my head, but first I need to get this one out of there so there's more room for reflection.  Bear with me -- this one's gonna be kinda long, but it's mostly for me so I won't forget all this stuff.  Some is kinda irreverent, but it actually happened, so documentation is appropriate.  Some is just fun memories.

This is Grandson#1, all decked out in his new Razorback gear on Christmas Eve at The Son's house.  Heh.

This is Trevor, The Son's lucky puppy, not in motion.  This needed to be documented because it's a rare occasion when Trevor, the lucky puppy, is not in motion.

This is a group of good friends and family at She-Who-Should've-Been-My-Sister's Little Rock home on New Year's Eve after we devoured all the food brought to the potluck.  SWSBMS's other home is in Hong Kong, so it's wonderful when we can all get together on the same continent in the same hemisphere.  You'll note the conspicuous absence of SIL#1.  He and his college buddies had met in Ft. Worth to watch TCU's first BCS Bowl appearance together, without wives and significant others.  Thus, Elder Daughter and SIL#1 spent their first New Year's Eve as a married couple in different states.  Elder Daughter, being Moogie's progeny, devised a way for SIL#1 to make it up to her, however; she persuaded him to secure 4 tickets to the Sugar Bowl from her FIL and went without him, taking her college friends, now living in Upstate New York, and Younger Daughter instead.  And they were Club Level seats to boot!  Clever Elder Daughter.

Here is what midnight in New York looked like on New Year's Eve at SWSBMS's house, and Pepper.  You can tell it's reallyPepper because there's a Blackberry in his hand.  Unlike at most of our recent New Year's Eve celebrations, we actually stayed out past midnight in New York, and beyond when it became midnight in Little Rock.

This is what New Year's Night looked like: a 1-1-11 wedding in the Chapel at Camp Robinson in North Little Rock.  The Son was best man (he's the squared-away, handsome one with raised saber).  I managed to catch the precise moment when the other groomsman lowered his saber to swat the Bride on the rear end and shout, "Welcome to the Army!"  The newly-married couple would leave central Arkansas on January 3rd to honeymoon at Moogie's Mansion where the Bride was lucky enough to share one bathroom with her new husband and 4 of his best friends.  The Bride was a very good sport.

Here we are at the Super Dome, getting ready to head inside to watch the Hogs trounce the Buckeyes.  There were plenty of raucous Razorback fans to add to our Sugary spirit.  And there was apparently at least one young lady (at the far right) who looks like she has not been adequately schooled in just what, exactly, a Hog Hat is.

Here are tens of thousands of Hog-callers and the Razorbacks thundering onto the field before trouncing the Buckeyes.

In cased you missed it, The Hogs failed to trounce the Buckeyes.  And that's enough about that.

Before the Big Game, several happy events, and one rather bizarre event, took place at Moogie's Mansion.  We celebrated the 30th birthday of Elder Daughter's college chum with mimosas, brunch and cake.  Cake, both birthday and wedding.

The wedding cake, and tons of other leftover wedding reception fare, was courtesy of the honeymooners, who got the very best guest room and pink roses.

After the Razorback fans departed to return to a soon-to-be-frozen-over Arkansas and other destinations, and after Moogie quickly changed a few beds and cleaned a few bathrooms, two Mardi Gras revelers arrived to join us at the CAMAN Ball -- our first big celebration of Carnival season.  Reveler#1's daughter was ever-so-slightly embarrassed by #1's gleeful immersion in the Carnival spirit.  Can you tell?  R#1's daughter was also less than pleased when Moogie manipulated several eligible young men to dance with said daughter, but she's young and will get over it.

The Ball's theme was "CAMAN Under the Big Top," and the decor was quite festive.

King CAMAN XXXVII enjoyed his entrance and hammed it up for his subjects, also showering them with doubloons of the realm.  Queen CAMAN XXXVII was regal, radiant, and very, very happy.

Following the Ball, the Revelers were snowed out of Arkansas, so their departure was delayed by three days.  We took that opportunity to turn their extended visit into "The Early Winter Eating Tour of New Orleans."  This was one lunch, at Pascal's Manale, on Tuesday the 11th -- Mushroom Ravioli with Crab Alfredo Sauce and Crabcake.  Oh my freakin' goodness! 

The Revelers got the "all-clear" to return home on the 12th, and it's been kinda quiet around here since then.

Oh yeah.  I mentioned something a few days back about ambulances and other emergency vehicles.

While we were brunching before the Big Game, Honeymoon Man meandered into the dining room from the front porch and said, "There's a Viking in a track suit leaning against your fence."  I peeked out the window, and, sure enough, there was a Viking-ish looking guy (or a lost member of ZZ Top) leaning against the fence.  I asked Honeymoon Man whether the Viking needed to talk to me, and he replied, "I don't think so."  I gave it little more thought, this being New Orleans and all.

Twenty minutes later, Honeymoon Man, having been upstairs and having looked out the window, came back down and announced, "The Viking's down."  I thought it prudent to go check on him; one male Hog Fan accompanied me as my protector, fearing that the wrath of a prematurely-roused Viking might befall me.  He took his camera.

Meet the Viking in a Track Suit.

I called to him in a loud mother-ish voice, "Sir?  Are you all right?  SIR?!?!," while also noting his rather battered and swollen face.  Then I hot-footed it inside to call 911.

Here are a few of the emergency responders.  When they finally got the Viking onto a back board and roused him a bit, they asked him the typical questions -- what's your name, do you know where you are.  To the name question, he responded with a strong display of the one-finger salute from beneath the back board straps.  To the location question, he replied, "Pennsylvania."  We're still not sure what happened to him, or who he is, but if he planned on being in Pennsylvania, he definitely took a wrong turn somewhere.

                                                   

Here are the Honeymooners with emergency responders in the background.  They kept the discarded instructions on "how to apply a neck brace" as a souvenir.

After the excitement quieted down, one police officer noticed all the people wearing Razorback tee shirts and told us he really liked the Razorbacks and wanted us to win the Sugar Bowl.  Then he said he really liked "that cheer," too.  Then he asked us to teach him how to do it.  So, with the Viking strapped to the backboard and being rolled to the ambulance, we all called the Hogs along with New Orleans first responders on the sidewalk.  The cop "woop-wooped" his siren at us and waved as he drove off.

Several of the Hog Fans were smokers.  They did not empty the ash tray provided for them on the front porch.  And you know who you are!

It was a hectic, sleepless, delightful week.  And there's lagniappe!  One pair of Fans brought a bottle of wine, another a lovely piece of Who Dat art, and the group of guys brought this delight for the nose and the palate -- 21 year-old single malt!  Ahhhh.  I didn't realize that Pepper had partaken as much of it as he has until I took this pic today; I've enjoyed one tiny snifter, preferring instead to keep it forever and savor it by occasionally removing the cork and deep-breathing the aroma.

So.  Such is life at Moogie's Mansion.  And Carnival season has just begun.

I'll sign off with this pic snapped before Christmas, en route to Little Rock, in heavy traffic.  It just reminded me of all my wonderful Blog Buddies, and a few in particular.  See if you can read the name and home base of of the trucking company.

Heh. 

So very New Orleans!  Viking in a track suit.  Heh.

A Little Holiday Cheer, and Welcome!

I've been incredibly pre-occupied lately, with the house and Christmas and something else kinda exciting that I'll share in a few weeks, so I've been kinda neglecting Moogie's World and the blogosphere.  I'll try to do better, but I can't make any promises, seeing as how I have done very little shopping, and we're getting ready to travel for the holidays, and we have a 10 week old black lab girl puppy!!! 

This is the visual definition of cute (and hell on four large paws!):

 

 

Say hello to Mystic Roux (her mama's name was Roux), more commonly known as Mysti (or other "colorful" pejoratives, e.g., "you little fill-in-the-blank"):



She's getting the house training idea insofar as piddling goes, but we're still working on the poop angle.  Bouie is very good with her -- he plays so gently with her.  Perhaps he understands that she is his email-order bride and he needs to treat her right if he expects to wed her in a year or so.

She has gained over 3 pounds in two weeks, so she has an insatiable appetite.  It's been pretty much a sleep-deprived, multi-ring circus around here since Thanksgiving (we picked her up on the way home from Arkansas).  So, this video that appeared in my Inbox today was a calming, welcome pleasure.  Just look at the children watching in awe. 



I think the puppy needs to watch this. Often.

Blogger Ate My Post!!

Seriously?  I went in to do one little edit, had a blank screen, hit publish, and the post went away?!?!

I'll try to re-construct it shortly, but I'm just a little too miffed right now.

If You Meet a Guy Named John Connor . . .

So, this weird new Posting screen appeared today.  I think the machines are taking over -- be on the lookout for Skynet. 

I'm going to try to ignore it.

Merry Christmas 2011

So, once again I outsmarted myself. Please go back in time to December 9th where my saved Christmas Post is apparently posted. I composed and saved it, but it obviously doesn't want you to see my Christmas message. So, please go back to December 9 to see our message to you all. Wishing you blessings and peace in this holiest time of that very promise.

Love, Moogie

A Look Back in Time -- Christmas 2005

We'll see if this works.  It's mainly for Lou -- she asked for a picture of Moogie's Mansion because the old girl might become the subject of one of Lou's paintings!  (If so, maybe she'll post it!)

Anyway, the best picture I have of the Mansion appeared in the Christmas newsletter I composed in 2005 while we were evacuated after Katrina.  I rarely do Christmas newsletters, but 2005 was such an eventful year, I needed to do it so I could remember everything.  And seeing as the Christmas season has rolled around again, hence and thusly, I present (hopefully):

Woo hoo!  It worked!

(and there is much less of several of us to love these days in the poundage department!)

Merry week before Christmas!

Still No Pumpkins

Just a quick pre-Halloween re-run from 2009 to let everyone know that I'm still among the living.  And we still have a porch with no pumpkins.

A Porch Without Pumpkins

I'm back after another round of goofy fun with the gi doc -- and all is well!

One-third of the dogs and I are loading up the car to do a solo road trip to Arkansas for FUN WEDDING STUFF!!!! So, I may be absent for a few days. Don't panic, I'll be back.

As a parting thought, the above photo pictures what greeted me as I pulled up in front of the house on October 16, 2008. It also explains why there are no pumpkins on Moogie's front porch this year.

Ciao for now!

Well, stupid Blogger won't let me block the quote, so I just italicized it.  Geez, Blogger gets so vindictive when you don't hang around with it all the time!

Geaux Saints!!

And, the "Re-posts" Have It

So. In response to yesterday's burning question, I believe the "re-post" votes have it over the "a link will do" votes.  In keeping with the majority rule, and, as Lou points out, sometimes we blog-stalkers tend to be a bit lazy when it comes to clicking on links so we need to be spoon-fed, the following is my soon-to-be-annual post on Labor Day:

What Labor Day Means to Moogie

As I prepare to bake an apple-blueberry pie to take to a potluck this afternoon, my thoughts drift to the true meaning of today's revered holiday observation.

Labor Day -- the day we recognize and acknowledge all those hours spent in a hospital gown that exposes our backside to the world, hee-hee-heeing and blowing, then straining to push a human being out of our bodies and into this world. (Often described by male physicians as "experiencing some discomfort.")

What's that you say? Union labor?!?!

Oh.

In that case, contact your senator and congressperson today -- and tomorrow -- and explain just exactly why the Employee Free Choice Act is no more than a communist mechanism to screw the rank-and-file employee and the employer simultaneously, and a device to take contractual bargaining out of the hands of the real parties in interest and hand it over to not-totally-disinterested third parties, among other unpleasant things.

In the meantime, go have a picnic -- and call your mother.

And that apple-blueberry pie was some kind of good, if memory serves!  Happy Day after Labor Day.

Curious Minds Want to Know

So. Which is better? A link to an old post or re-posting the actual stuff?

A Legal Interlude

Doing a little Continuing Legal Edumacation. One of today's sessions addressed lawyering and the Internet -- social media, The Cloud, websites, "accidental clients," and blogging! Pretty interesting.

No exotic locale, or Food Tours, this year. Darn it.

Back in a few.

Of Weiners, Funeral Mobsters, and Post-Nuptial Existentialism

I've had nearly a week to recover from all the wedding festivities (not the least of which was the 99 degree heat for the mostly-outdoor reception!).  I spent most of this morning catching up with my regular blog-rounds, so now I suppose I should leap back into posting.

I'm not quite ready to do the wedding post yet, though -- I'm experiencing a little "wedding-planning void."   This is the first time since February of 2009 that I haven't had wedding planning somewhere near the surface of my mind, and it's kind of sad.  Easier on the bank account and frazzle factor, but still a little sad.  Kinda like Lucy's Post-Christmas letdown in the old Peanuts cartoon strip.

So, for today, I'll play with politics a little and add a little Louisiana flavor for lagniappe.

First off, Weiner Fest.  The story that won't go away (not to mention the story that has the greatest bad-joke potential in recorded human history). 

Almost everything that can be said about this fiasco has been said, but in addition to pointing out that the media -- and even the dude's constituents -- seem to be focusing on the actual weiner and its varying states of dress, and not focusing on the outright, intentional LYING in which the little weasel (the actual man, not his appendage) engaged, I'd like to make note of one of the funniest statements to be broadcast over the airwaves in recent memory.  And it was, I believe, unintentionally (albeit, potentially Freudianly) funny.

Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, when asked why she wasn't calling for Weiner's resignation, stated, "I believe that it's up to the individual member" to make that decision. 

That was, in my view, a most unfortunate time to refer to a Congressman by that particular asexual, politically correct term.  Mr. Weiner's member has obviously been making decisions for him for many years.

*Rimshot*  Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Next.  Do you remember way back last August when I first told you about the Louisiana Casket Cartel that had issued a Cease and Desist Order against some Benedictine monks who were making and selling simple caskets for reasonable prices?  Well, here's the update.

During the most recent session of the Legislature, the funeral industry managed to pull off a strong enough lobbying effort to prevent a repeal of the monopoly-encouraging regulations, leaving the Abbey open to thousands of dollars in fines, and its monks to potential imprisonment, for selling coffins without paying exhorbitant fees and securing a funeral director's license.  As a result, the monks decided to pursue the lawsuit they had filed last August in federal court seeking a modification of the statutes governing funeral industry licensure. 

The funeral regulators' defense team characterized the regulations in terms of "consumer protection," raising the gruesome specter of coffins too small for plus-size bodies, leaking decomposition fluids from an above-ground family tomb; the monks' attorneys more appropriately characterize the statutory scheme as little more than "unconstitutional economic protectionism."

A half-day hearing took place last week, the briefing schedule has been set, and we should have a ruling from U.S. District Judge Stanwood Duval by early July.  Judge Duval is a Clinton appointee, and has been referred to as a "liberal judge" more than once, but he does appear to be a fairly solid constitutionalist.

Wouldn't it be nice to see the small-time entrepreneur -- and common sense -- prevail this time?




Okay, okay, you persuaded me.  Just one wedding picture, taken in the Bride's Room before the ceremony.

I have the feeling that this one will make me get teary-eyed for years.

Don't Run Off, Now!

I'm still alive! Just caught up in a whirlwind. Back soon!

Wedding Day, Minus 3 -- and Hello Hurricane Season 2011

So, I'm thinking the tire gods are as angry with me as the Blogger gods have been recently.

I got on the road later than I would have liked (because I had to wait for a UPS delivery requiring a signature -- and the delivery guy was out of treats for Bouie, who was already stressed out by all the packing and taking of Rosie to the kennel early without him. Yeah, he doesn't go until today because Pepper needed company last night. So, I had to dig up some old treats for Bouie because he was wearing his pitiful face. It was a hectic scenario at Moogie's Mansion.)

So, I got on the road later than I would've liked, but early enough to get me to Little Rock in time to get some wedding stuff done. I downed my Wendy's grilled chicken wrap and was settling down on the long I-10 bridge over the spillway when I heard a lot of racket; I couldn't figure out what it was for a bit, and initially thought the beat-up car beside me needed to have its engine looked at, when it dawned on me that I had a flat. Going 65 mph, on a bridge, I had a blowout. In a car that was loaded to the gills with wedding and reception paraphernalia.

Several hours, and USAA Roadside Assistance, later, after kind assistance from a lady state trooper (who offered to help me change the tire!), a tow to a "safe place" (because the Roadside Assistance folk don't change tires on an interstate bridge), and a hefty wait for the tire changer at the truck stop casino (because tow folks don't change tires), I was back on the road. But, by golly, after proving to myself that I could still change a tire a few months back, I had vowed not to do that again, and I remained true to my vow.

I didn't get to Little Rock until after 10:00.

It was a long day.

And all this is to say that posting will probably be sparse the next few days until we buy all the booze in central Arkansas, deliver stuff all over creation, entertain, and marry off the last child. It will be glorious!

I need a nap.

The Monkey on my Back

With all the Blogger nonsense going on yesterday and today, I apparently picked a good day to play hooky.

And I'm apparently addicted to blogging and commenting. Whew! I was really needing a fix.

I Give

Okay, Mr. Blogger.  I'm not sure what it is that you want of me, but I give up.  Mardi Gras 2011 in Video is apparently not to be.

Jerk.

So, to assuage my pain and sense of loss, I think I'll try to post some ordinary pictures and see if you sabotage them, too.

It's oak flower season in New Orleans.  This year isn't as bad as some have been, especially the spring after Katrina when all the trees were working overtime to recover, but it's plenty bad enough.  This is what my car has looked like every morning this week (the birds have been using it for target practice, too):

The parades may be over, but the memory (and the evidence) remains.  I saw a guy on St. Charles Avenue the other day with a long hook, picking beads out of the trees and dumping them in his trunk.  He had enough to set up a stand in the French Market after he sorted and banded them -- and that's probably what he planned to do!  And he probably picked this tree bare.  That's a shame because the rest of us really like to look at them all year long.

There.  Do your worst, Mr. Blogger!  I shall not yield on photographs.  Nay, say I!  I shall not yield.

Lent Comes in Like a Lion

It's Ash Wednesday and the neighborhood is almost back to normal. I survived all the revelry and actually got a little wedding stuff accomplished during Younger Daughter's visit.

We had huge thunderstorms overnight and during the early morning -- Bouie awoke us at 5:30 to let us know that the wind was blowing really hard. So thoughtful of him.

Details and pics to come, after a brief period of R & R and an engagement party.