Thinking About Thankfulness

I am thankful for having had a great dog in my life. I've had plenty of wonderful dogs, but only Bouie was great. And, I'm thankful for having his "lady" and his offspring in our home to love.

I kinda like my husband, too. I'm thankful he has been in my life these many decades.

I'm thankful for our healthy children and grandchildren, and for the opportunity to see them regularly without having to drive 7 or 8 hours.

I'm thankful to have my father, now 86 years old, still with us. And, I'm thankful to be able to go to doctors' appointments with him so he won't have to walk so far. And, I'm thankful to be here in Little Rock to support him as he begins radiation therapy for lung cancer. I'm truly and prayerfully grateful that his prognosis is good.

I'm thankful for good friends.

I'm thankful I don't have to move anytime soon.

I'm thankful for my Senior Discount at Krogerville. And, I'd better go use it before all the other geezers get all the good stuff.

Chalk One Up for the Good Guys

Early Wednesday morning in New Orleans East an armed man entered a gas station and demanded money from the clerk and a customer. That was his first mistake.

The customer, not taking kindly to being strong-armed, followed the thug out of the store. Thug fired at customer (his second mistake); customer fired back, hitting thug in the hip!

Thug remains hospitalized and will be charged upon his release.

Sometimes we all need a little good news.

Hopefully the Curtain has Fallen on More Scary Doggie Drama

Well. I have just lived through two weeks that will surely be noted in Moogie's Biography as among the worst of my life. But -- they could have been considerably worse.

We did get to bring Mysti home Wednesday before last with potent antibiotics and special food. She ate some and drank water and just enjoyed being with us that afternoon and evening. I even did a most-of-the-family portrait:

Pepper went to bed fairly early, but when my adrenaline gets rushed, I don't sleep well. So, after reading a bit, I probably dropped off about 1:00 Thursday morning. Thursday would turn out to be a verrrrry long day.

A little before 4:00, I heard Mysti panting in the crate. When she kept it up for awhile I got up to see what was going on and to offer  her some water. The vet had told us that if her temperature spiked -- anything above 102.5 -- she could be in trouble. She refused the water and was clearly agitated. I managed to find a thermometer (now strictly dedicated to canine temperature readings, if you know what I mean), and managed to get a reading. 102.7. Crap.

She paced around a bit and, every now and then, would stretch her neck up as if in a spasm. I took her temp again about thirty minutes later -- 103.2. Double crap. I awakened Pepper, telling him that Mysti was in trouble.

Bouie was upset -- he's very sensitive and knew something was not right.

At 5:00 we called the vet. After we described what was going on, he told us to make her as comfortable as possible and to meet him at his office at 7:30. So Mysti lay on the floor at the foot of the bed with one of us lying beside her on either side. She was in such obvious pain that we both feared she would die right there in our arms. We spoke softly to her, petting her and telling her what a good girl she is and how very pretty. That was a long, difficult two hours. I checked her temp again about 7:00 and it had dropped back below 103. Good news, but it didn't last.

We headed to the vet's at about 7:20 in all the rush hour traffic. That's not harrowing at all. Mysti could barely get in and out of the truck.

The vet took her temp first thing -- 103.7. He said that's high but not dangerously high. Then he explained our options, leaving the most permanent one unspoken.  He could open her up again and see what was going on, but he was a little leery of the location of the bad part of the intestine -- very near the pancreas. The other option was for him to call veterinary surgery specialists in Memphis and we could take her over there as an emergency patient. Then he told us that, if she were his dog, he'd have her in the car on I-40 eastbound, pdq.  So, that's what we did. We headed home to throw a few things in a bag in case we had to stay the night and called our dogsitter friend on the way to the house -- we couldn't leave the pup crated all that time without a break. Fortunately, Carolyn had been following Mysti's saga on Facebook and said she'd be here as soon as possible.  Here we are on the way to Memphis:

Actually, no. That's on the way home the first time Wednesday afternoon. We had put pillows in the back for her before going to Memphis.

It seemed like it took forever to get there, and once we did, we got onto the interstate loop at the wrong on-ramp and had to circle the whole freakin' city amid some seriously crazy and flawed drivers. Added about 30 minutes to the trip. No additional stress there.

We arrived at the Memphis Veterinary Specialists a little after noon. Wow. What a ritzy place! All new and clean and well-designed. We met with the regular vet in one of several "Consultation Rooms," and she explained what they would do -- and the price range, depending on what they found during the exploratory. And, no, you really don't want to know. We paid our deposit, left our little girl in the hands of strangers in a strange place, and wandered off in search of something to eat, anticipating a call from the surgeon when they took Mysti back.

The vet had recommended Las Tortugas, a small, authentic Mexican place nearby in Germantown. Good recommendation. After lunch, we took a walk around a small lake on a nice paved path. That was just what we needed. Then we needed a nap, so I had a chat with Mr. Google and found a hotel near the hospital where there were a lot of Hispanics tearing up the parking lot with jackhammers. I napped really hard and quickly anyway.

Pepper woke up before I did and went out to the truck to charge his phone, so he was gone when I awoke, making me a little nervous. But, when he came back in, he had talked to the surgeon and Mysti had done beautifully!  There was a tear leaking fluid into her abdomen, so he did a resection of her intestine and there were no complications, her bloodwork showed no organ failure, and she was resting comfortably with no suggestion of peritonitis! We could visit her Friday morning, but they wanted to keep her until Sunday so they could culture the liquid they removed from her abdomen and keep her on IV antibiotics and pain meds. The vet would call in the morning with an overnight report.

Thank you, Lord!

But then the next crisis hit -- the Saints were playing the Panthers at 7:30 Thursday evening and the hotel didn't offer NFL Network!!

I found a sports bar.  And a liquor store. We went to both.

The Saints won!

We went to visit Mysti Girl shortly after the vet called on Friday morning, and were seated in the "Visitation Room." They put a tee shirt on her so she couldn't mess with the staples. It said "We be Jammin', Mon," so we decided that she was going as a Rasta for Halloween:

Our girl was what the vet described as "dysphoric." We called it "loopy." She was happy to see us, but whined and "sang" for us. I felt really mean leaving her there -- she really wanted to go home. But, it was Halloween and I was expecting a houseful of family and friends that evening.

We made it back to Moogie's Manor in time to make the chicken chili and get things cleaned up. I took Yap to the vet for her next round of puppy shots. Trick or Treaters came and went. Here are Elder Daughter and her sweet family as "Jack and the Beanstalk" characters (the "Golden Egg" painted on ED's shirt was the Halloween costume for Grandbaby #6 who is growing in there!):

And Younger Daughter with hers as the Rubble Family from "The Flintstones":

The Son had Guard drill.

As I was cleaning up, I noticed several twinges in my back and gut, and realized that I hadn't eaten anything. By Saturday morning, I was in a full-blown flare-up of diverticulitis. Stress tends to settle in my gut and I think it's taking an extended vacation in there. I can eat now, but can't throw off the nagging little low-grade fever. I hate diverticulitis drugs, but I guess I'll have to suck it up and call the doc on Monday. Bouie and Yap were missing their Mysti on Saturday night, so they needed a little extra attention from Pepper:

The vet called Sunday morning about 10:00 and Pep was on the road by 10:45. Mysti and her tee shirt came tail-waggingly into the house Sunday afternoon! Along with her own personal pharmacy. Our days have revolved around her med schedule for a week! but I gave her the last dose yesterday evening and all she has left are pain pills. I'm still giving her a reduced dose of that at night.


She still must take it really easy for another week, then keep being wild and crazy at a minimum for a month, but she looks good, she's happy and playful, her appetite is back, and her coat looks good and shiny. I think we have our girl back. And everyone is happy about that (we changed her tee shirt because it was getting really stinky):

My gut can't take much more drama.

A Message From Puppyville

Geez. It's been more than a month since I posted! Who had any idea how much work a litter of pups can be. Certainly not us!

They're 8 1/2 weeks old now, have had their first shots, and been checked out by the vet. No worms! That's the best part! They're cute and smart and energetic.

And 6 of them have found new forever homes.

It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to let them go, but it's getting harder. Two have gone to family members -- to the Son and Younger Daughter. One has gone to my late best friend's brother's family in Jonesboro. One went to the parents of Younger Daughter's late friend. Another went to the family of one of the Girls' high school buddies. Last night a young E-4 Guardsman and his sweet little family came to take Tank (the largest puppy) home with them. So,then there were three.

One (maybe two) will stay with us. We're contemplating donating one to a service organization for training as a service/companion dog -- maybe Wounded Warriors or Lighthouse for the Blind. Remaining at Moogie's Manor are who we call (L - R) Count Pounce of Bouligny, Bouligny's Mystic Lagniappe (Yep, Murphy, I stole your pup's name! We call her Yap.), and Malcolm in the Middle:

See how big they've gotten! Yesterday evening, the pup (now known as Chelsea) who went to live with the Son's family at "Paulsons' House of Chaos" came for a visit. They played so hard that they were little more than a blur!

This video is a few weeks old, but shows them in action:


Cleaning up after all nine was a chore, but cleaning up after three 8 1/2 week old growing bladders leads me to give you an investment tip: buy stock in paper towel companies! Here are a few more captured cutenesses:

 I have the most toys, so I win.

What do you mean it's morning?

Sleepy? Who's sleepy?

Well, I may have already crossed that threshhold.

Life is good.

We Have Grandpuppies! LOTS of Grandpuppies.

Nine, to be precise! Five boys and 4 girls, healthy, squirmy, and exercising stronger voices by the day! They were born Friday night, after we had gone to Elder Daughter's to watch the Saints game, of course. By the time we got home, at about 9:00, she had already whelped three of them -- on the couch in our bedroom. (I took the couch cushion to the cleaners this morning -- we shall see. We can always turn the cushion over, but I do hope they can get any odor out of it.) The couch, pre-birthing suite (you don't really want to see the post- view):

I gathered up the pups and got them to the pool, where Mysti quickly joined them. Pepper worked on the couch and carpet for awhile. And my purse, which had a little puppy residue in it, too. I know -- gross. Daughters and DiLshowed up after eight had arrived and we thought that was all of them. Pretty cool -- 8 puppies born on 8/8! Daughters headed home, but DiL stayed for a bit. After 30 minutes or so, she said, "Is that another one?" I thought, surely not -- it's been so long since the last. But, sure enough here came another -- the largest one yet! We did have to help break the sac, though.

Younger Daughter was pretty concerned about the runt, who had a little trouble latching onto Mama. She did internet research, gave us an eyedropper from Grand #5's diaper bag to try a Karo Syrup coating on one of the teats, and just fussed in general. Fortunately, the little guy got the hang of it eventually and is growing like Topsy.

I took this shot the first time Mysti voluntarily left the puppy "bed" (that's spelled "pink, plastic wading pool!").

I promise I didn't place the pups in this shot -- they just kinda wound up like this.

Bouie has been feeling a trifle marginalized the last few days -- a tad on the needy side. He has wound up in bed with us for the last several nights. Not a good thing -- he's a bed hog.

Yesterday, Pepper distracted Mysti and Bouie so I could take the pups to the Vet to have their dew claws removed. (The useless little claws are removed so they don't get caught and ripped off in brush and stuff, thus risking infection.) Here they are, going on their first field trip. Can you believe I got them all in a laundry basket? They really seemed to enjoy the car rides!

Several of them like to sing with their supper. Pretty funny.

We have homes for several of them, but we'll keep one. Bouie's and Mysti's bloodlines are just too good not to be preserved, but I doubt we'll be having puppies around here anymore. We're too darned old to have 9 infants in the house! Especially after bedtime! But the cuteness factor is pretty cool, and Mysti is such a good little Mama! I'm really proud of her (and grateful! Can you imagine bottle-feeding nine puppies?!?!)

I need a nap.

Sniff the Air and Take a Stroll With Me

I just finished reading the "High Profile" section of the Sunday paper.  It's akin to the "society" pages of days gone by.  On the front page, one person is featured, and part of the feature is asking the honoree to answer seemingly silly, insipid, Barbara Walters-esque questions (Who would you invite to your ideal dinner party? What is your favorite color?). One of today's interview topics was "a smell that makes me nostalgic."  The subject, a Vietnam Vet and long-time Director of the North Little Library system, gave such an elegant and insightful answer that it caused me to go digging around in my head for scents and aromas and smells that make me nostalgic.

There are the obvious ones of course, like french toast and maple syrup, or Jergen's Lotion, or leaves burning in the barrel-shaped wire incinerator, or freshly-scrubbed babies' heads, but the two I finally settled on are two I haven't encountered in a long time. The first is:

Purple irises.

The scent of an old-fashioned iris takes me to both sets of grandparents' homes.  Nonnie and Pop's backyard in Little Rock had the most beautiful iris garden.  They must have planted a hundred bulbs.  When I was a little bitty girl, they would set me in the big middle of the garden on a bright, sunny day in the spring, when my eyes were sure to crinkle, to take my picture with their old Kodak box camera.  I remember closing those eyes, turning my face skyward, and drinking in as much fragrance of iris as my little lungs could hold, then puffing it all out at once while giggling a little girl giggle.  Then we would go inside where I could be the manager of a "store" created by opening the two corner floor cabinet doors so they would intersect.  I would get behind that "counter" and "sell" them dishes.  Then I'd make a big production of closing and locking the store, and we would all go to the den to watch "Wide World of Sports" and share a big bowl of Yarnell's vanilla ice cream.  Pop passed away before my sixth birthday.

Bee Mama and Daddy Gus's house in Nashville (Nashville, Arkansas, not that place in Tennessee that mispronounces itself.  It is pronounced NASH-vul, not Nash-vill.  The emphasis is on the first syllable, both syllables do not have equal emphasis.)  had purple irises in the front yard, right beside the biggest purple hydrangea you've ever seen. Granted, I was a little girl, but that hydrangea seemed like its own forest to me. There were yellow irises out back. They had a slightly less powerful fragrance than the purples, a little softer. I remember "helping" Daddy Gus weed his garden with that yellow iris scent in the background, then passing by the purple iris scent when we rounded the free-standing garage on our way to the kitchen for some home-cranked fresh peach ice cream made with peaches that Bee Mama had "put up" in wax-covered paper   freezer cartons the summer before.

Hmmm.  It seems that ice cream seems to be playing a prominent role in Moogie's journey into memories today.

The next fragrance to stand out is:

Chanel No. 5.

Every year when I was a child, without fail, for their December wedding anniversary, Daddy would carefully wrap and give Mama a small bottle of Chanel No. 5 perfume.  Not cologne, mind you, but the real thing -- french eau de parfum.  He might have messed up and given her Arpege one year, but Arpege was more for everyday use, not just for special occasions. I probably could still tell you today what it is if I saw a wrapped Chanel No. 5, so distinctive is that box's shape and size.  Mama made that bottle last almost the entire year -- she often ran a little short in December if they'd had a particularly social year.  She always kept it in the box on her poudre dressing table; it wasn't good for perfume to be exposed to sunlight, she said. When I saw Mama gently and sparingly applying little dabs of Chanel with the glass rod that slipped and clinked inside the bottle, I knew she would soon be dressed to the nines, and that I would have a special babysitter who would bring me little girl treats like bobby pins or Archie comic books.  I would also get to have a rare feast of Austex Spaghetti and Meatballs in a can, or a frozen Chicken Pot Pie, or -- heavenliest of all heavenlies -- a Turkey and Gravy TV Dinner with a little chocolate cake dessert in the corner of the aluminum pan!   You know, instead of those boring ol' homecooked meals with real meat and vegetables. And cornbread.

As a casualty of adult-onset allergies, fragrance is no longer worn by Moogie.  But there was a time, early in our marriage, when Pepper gave me Chanel No. 5.  That's when I came truly to understand that he kinda likes me. I probably have that bottle stashed away somewhere.  I think I'll go look for it.

And, maybe have a little ice cream.

Why don't you join me?

UPDATE -- Bouie's Health Scare and Other Canine Medical Crises

When I wrote the blog post about Bouie, our Christmas Miracle, that detailed his scary encounter with antifreeze and the treatment to save him, we didn't know that we hadn't yet finished our put-Little Rock-veterinarians-into-the-black Holiday Tour.

That post was written on December 22nd.  Bouie continued to improve, although he was a little weak.  I couldn't help but smile every time I looked at him.  The Christmas blizzard hit and all the dogs had a ball romping in the snow (except for Pippi who is a little princess and doesn't like to get her paws wet, much less wet and cold!).  The power outage continued and we were glad to have four dogs to cuddle up. 

Then the morning of Friday, December 28th arrived. 

I had left the family room where the fireplace is located after Pepper got up and active with the dogs. I planned to catch a little nap bundled up in the bed when I heard Pepper cussing, so I went to see what the trouble was.  He was pacing and trying to reach Vet #2 on the phone -- Bouie was droopy, obviously not feeling well.  He hadn't touched his breakfast.  He didn't seem to be as bad as on the 16th, but something was definitely wrong.

Neither of us would say it aloud, but we were both terrified that his kidneys were failing.  And once organ failure sets in . . . .

The vet didn't answer the phone.  I figured their power was out, too, so I called Younger Daughter's vet -- they had power in that neighborhood.  I explained what was going on and asked if they could see Bouie; they said to bring him right in.  I scribbled some phone numbers -- the Emergency vet's, our vet's in New Orleans, and Vet #2's -- on a scrap of paper so that Vet #3 could access Bou's records if need be, and Pepper took off, a look of defeat clouding his face.  I didn't hear from him for a couple of hours.

In the meantime, my Daddy called, telling me that he couldn't get warm and that he finally would agree to go to Younger Daughter's house.  I got dressed and headed to his house, calling Pepper en route.  Bouie had a fever, and that could be good news.  He was waiting to hear test results at YD's, but was clearly in better, if guarded, spirits.

After getting Daddy packed up, transported, and settled in at YD's with some warm Wendy's chili in his tummy, I took my first shower in days!  It's amazing what clean hair can do for the disposition.

When Vet #3 finally called, well after 5:00 p.m., she had very good news!  Bouie's organ function tests came back perfectly normal -- there was no failure!  Other bloodwork showed infection, and infection can be treated!  She was going to start him on antibiotics, but wanted to keep him overnight for observation -- test results for specific bacteria wouldn't be available until mid-week due to the New Year's holiday and weather.  (And, yes, the bloodwork was done at the Baptist Hospital lab, a place I used to think was only for people!)  We were to call Saturday morning after 8:00 and Bouie would probably be discharged!

Palpable relief!!!

We spent the night lonely for our boy, but hopeful that our veterinary saga was nearing its end.  Pepper called at the stroke of 0800, and was out the door to collect Bouie in a flash!

Meanwhile, Elder Daughter's boxer, Tyson, who had been making sounds like a whooping crane was trying to get out of his belly for several days, continued to whoop, even though we had started him on leftover antibiotics days earlier at ED's direction.  About the time Pepper was getting home with a much-improved and hungry Bouie, Vet #2 texted in response to a message I'd left about Tyson two days before.  I called the number advised by the text and got ready to take Tyson to Vet #2.

A few hours later, I brought hot coffee, Tyson, and a load of antibiotics to join the canine pharmacy  belonging to Bouie.  We enjoyed a family reunion unlike any before, and hopefully unlike any ever again.

Daddy's power came back on; ED returned home while I was re-settling Daddy.  Pepper got a hotel room and planned with SIL#1 how to take care of the dogs while we stayed warm.  I was packing to join them at the hotel when, POW!!  The lights came back on!  And stayed on!

December 29, 2012, was a very good day.

This is what Bouie looked like during his hangover on December 19th as I drove him home:

Is that a goofy, drunk dog or what!  And here are a few more happy dog pics taken after that very good day that warm my heart.  Say hello to Grandson Jack on New Year's Eve!  Hi, ho, Bouie!

Watching Dad do some stuff outside without any dogs.

Feeling better.

Mysti was very happy that Bouie was home.

Life is good in Moogie's World.

But, you don't want to know how much we spent on vet bills in a mere two weeks' time.

*sigh*

Lit Up at Moogie's Mansion!

When one has air conditioning, she can believe she's invincible!

And, also having television/cable/internet restored makes Moogie pretty darn awesome.  Except for her hair.  The hair is a lost cause. 

Trust me on this one.

NOLA Navy Week: A Photographic Retrospective

I finally have a little break in the Home Improvement action.  I've been wanting to post a batch of pictures and videos that I took when NOLA Navy Week kicked off on April 17th to accompany my April 23rd post, so here we go. 

Through my work with the Louisiana Committee of Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve ("ESGR"), and Pepper's "employer" position as Director of Labor relations for the local utility company, we wrangled an invitation to participate in a "Bosslift" as the ships traveled up the Mississippi. Bosslifts are one method that ESGR uses to educate employers of Guardsmen and Reservists about just exactly what their employees do when wearing their military "hats."  We've flown them in C-130s, toured bases, shown them how the Coast Guard performs marine rescues -- any number of things.  But, this was going to be a spectacular Bosslift.

After a safety briefing, we were to be flown via Blackhawk helicopter to land on the U.S.S Wasp, a multipurpose amphibious assault ship, as she traveled upriver to her berthing station near the Crescent City Connection bridge.  We were to have lunch with crew members and observe them at their duty stations.  What a dream come true for a little girl born to a Daddy in the Navy, and who grew up to marry an Army chopper jockey!

Dream gone bad.  The weather gods had different ideas, mainly due to the high winds, and the flight was canceled (not to mention the weekend's Blue Angels air show).

To make it up to us, a local paddlewheeler boat, Creole Queen, was engaged to ferry us downriver as the ships came up, and we were allowed to follow Wasp to her berth -- a two-hour adventure, complete with complimentary cocktails!  In driving winds and drenching rain.  But, it was fascinating and we stayed outdoors on the aft deck the entire time.  What a view!  Herewith, some pics and videos:

Sailors in real uniforms from the U.S.S. Constitution.  Pretty cool.

A taste of the lousy weather as we headed downriver.

Passing one of the military ships.

And a couple of videos.

This is one of the Merchant Marine vessels that use the Mississippi as home berth, when they're not being dispatched all over the globe.  One of them was used after Katrina -- at the really brave direction of her Captain, who had been ordered not to do so by the brass -- as a provider of dialysis services in sick bay (since the hospitals were kaput), and supplier of fuel from her own tanks for emergency vehicles.  Captain Lansden was later commended by the White House for his humanitarian aid, and rightly so.

Here comes Wasp!

And there she goes!  You can tell how they launch amphibious landing craft aft.

This is the old dock at the former Naval Support Activity.  A Field Artillery unit from the Louisiana National Guard fired a 21 gun (cannon!) salute as each ship passed by.  You'll see more in a video below.

Wasp rounding the bend by the French Quarter.

Wasp being pushed into her berth by tugboats.  There's a pretty strong riverboat pilots' union around here.

View of the St. Louis Cathedral and Jax Brewery in the French Quarter from the water.

The Ecuadoran tall ship, BAE Guayas, at berth.

The Indonesian tall ship, Dewaruci, at berth.

The U.S. Coast Guard tall ship, Eagle, at berth.  She's actually a commissioned training vessel.  I'll post more pics later from the day I volunteered for the tall ships, from aboard Dewaruci and Eagle.

Coast Guard fast boats patrolling.  There was lots of security.

And, as the paddlewheeler Creole Queen heads back to dock, her steam calliope salutes the American ships with a medley of sea services anthems.  A pretty impressive and memorable day!

On, Wisconsin!

Stolen from Facebook:

It's starting to look up -- remember 2010!

D-Day + 68 years

Honor Flights is a national organization that transports WWII Veterans, free of charge, to Washington, DC, to experience the WWII Memorial erected in their tribute.  It has been my pleasure to be amid the crowds welcoming home several Flights returning to New Orleans.  We're losing The Greatest Generation so quickly.

It's D-Day + 68 years.  Thank you, Soldier, Sailor, Marine, Airman, Coastie, Merchant Marine.



Here's a post with a little more information about the "flash mob" that greeted an Honor Flight to Reagan International on May 23, 2012.

Ya Gotta Love a Principal Who Sticks to her Guns. Um, Principles. She Doesn't Carry, I'm Pretty Sure.

I'm sitting here listening to the intercom (yes, they broadcast over their intercom to the entire neighborhood, but we always know what's going on!) at Sophie B. Wright Institute for Academic Excellence (Whew! That's a mouthful, even when you type it!) down the street, and I've just experienced yet another refreshing note of what's happening in that school.

The Principal's irritated voice (yes, I recognize her voice by now) summoned three students by name and directed them to board the bus at once:  "Get on the bus now.  You're holding up the entire bus and the entire route.  Get aboard your bus immediately, and I mean NOW! Do NOT make me go looking for you!"

How cool is that -- a principal who takes no guff and suffers no fools.  Way to walk the walk, Ms. Clark!  Happy Homecoming Week!

Razorbacks Don't Forget

For those of you unfortunate enough to have missed the Razorbacks' drubbing of New Mexico's Lobos last Saturday night, let me fill you in on something pretty cool.

To commemorate the 10th anniversary of 9/11, War Memorial Stadium in Little Rock (where the game was played) became Patriot Central.  The ordinarily fiery-red running Razorback painted on the center of the field became this:

And looked like this on the field:

And the stands almost became Old Glory as alternating sections wore red or white shirts; the students wore blue:

And people actually did it!  It looked very impressive.

There was even a special logo designed for this particular game -- Razorbacks Remember:

I'm told the halftime show was very moving.

I'd say the nation, as a whole, pulled off a fitting tribute to 2001's national nightmare.  Let's pray we never have to be quite that creative again.

Back to School: an Upgrade

Now that school has been back in session for several weeks, some of you may be puzzled why I haven't posted a rant about the Sophie Wright Academy school buses that served as the bane of my existence for the last couple of years with their vrooming and squealing and beep-beep-backing-upping.

It seems that some changes have been made!

There is a fleet of brand-new buses sporting the Sophie Wright name parked in the lot, and their engines and OSHA-mandated back-up beepers must be a whole lot quieter, cause I hardly notice them at all.  There is also apparently a whole fleet of brand new bus drivers who are skilled enough to negotiate the turn onto our side-street without having to do a 2- or 3-point maneuver.  Not as many buses are running down our side-street this year either -- they seem to be going down the thoroughfare adjacent to Sophie Wright.

So, YAY!!!!

The most interesting change I've noted, though, is the demise of the name, Sophie B. Wright Academy.  All those new buses now announce that they're carrying the students of "Sophie B. Wright Institute for Academic Excellence." 

If you call it academic excellence, will academic excellence follow? 

Sounds a little too PC to me, but, if it means the buses are better behaved, I'll call the school Massachusetts Institute of Technology if that's what they want.

Go, Warriors!