Happy 2014! (A little belatedly)

Yes.  It is 2014 and I am still alive.  Pepper is, too, but that's a story for another day.  We are adjusting to being back among family and old friends.  We are trying to adapt to the climate.

This is my new tee shirt.

It speaks the truth.

Regularly Scheduled Maintenance

So, here's a teaser of that Alaska trip post (or posts!) to come, taken with my phone, no less:



Mendenhall Glacier, near Juneau.  Indescribable.

In the meanwhile, until I get enough discipline corralled to do the 50th state justice, I'd like to engage in a little too much TMI so you realize that this is "Semi-Old Folks' Maintenance Week" around Moogie's Manor. 

Today I'm on a strictly liquid diet and a fun, fun, fun (not) chugging beverage in preparation for tomorrow morning's routine groggy GI procedure.  I expect tomorrow afternoon will revolve around multiple naps and solid food.

Then, Thursday morning I can't apply deodorant or lotion so I can wear that interesting high-fashion gown and get The Girls smashed between those cold radiological plates.  You guys who think prostate exams are humiliating ain't got a clue.  Going through childbirth seems to take the edge off of the humiliation factor, though.  There's just something about the goods being exposed to a roomful of strangers that shatters a timid attitude.

Finally, Thursday afternoon the Roots get a thorough touching up, thus shaving years and many pounds off of the Moogie chassis. Trust me, it'll do the trick!  Just go along with me on this, okay?

Then, there's more football in the air for the weekend as SO-F Maintenance Week winds down.  Are you ready for a little Woooo Pig Soooieee and Who Dat!!

I love Fall.

Go get your maintenance done.

Still Remembering

I'll get to happier things another day -- such as our recent trip to ALASKA!!! -- but today is September 11th.  It's September 11th, the day after our president commandeered the airwaves and thoroughly confused the nation with his irreconcilable position(s) on a strike against Syria. (An "unbelievably small,  limited kind of effort" according to alleged Secretary of State, John Kerry.)

[Telegraphed by Kerry, the Young President drops back and quick kicks to Russia . . . ]

 Anyway, being dreadfully confused, and needing to focus on more pleasant things, I believe I'll re-post 2010's 9/11  entry.  It's about how the 9/11 attacks changed my life for the better:

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Remembrance and Reflection

September 11th.  9/11.  9 - 1 - 1.

The repercussions from that day are many and diverse, aside from the obvious holes in the ground and in our hearts. 

The wound -- the pandemic pain and suffering that we all shared with one another and the families of the fallen -- is still here even though it's scabbed over now.  I suspect, however, that it wouldn't take much to knock the scab off and start the blood flowing all over again.  I think the kerfuffles over Koran-burning and mosque-building the last couple of weeks are proof positive of that suspicion.

For the last 8 years, I've gotten pretty contemplative during the days leading up to this date, as have most Americans, I imagine.

My younger cousin posted on Facebook this morning that she had just dropped off her young children at school when the first plane hit.  She firmly believes her oldest is now a Cadet at West Point as a direct consequence of that day's events.

Pepper was on one of the first civilian flights cleared to take off on September 14th.  He was headed to a meeting originally scheduled to take place at the Pentagon, but re-located after al-Qaeda crashed a plane into it.  There had been friends in the Pentagon that September morning.  It was hard to watch him get on that plane.

We all recall where we were, what we were doing, how life changed after the towers fell.  My own life changed dramatically but, oddly, for the better after that day.

Having moved down to New Orleans full-time only a couple of months beforehand, I knew but a few souls in the whole city and those few were still just passing acquaintances.  My father was in Little Rock.  All the kids were out of the house, married or in college towns in Arkansas and Louisiana.  On the 11th, the girls badly wanted to ditch classes and run to mama's and daddy's arms for comfort as they did when they were little, but we encouraged them to stick it out where they were.  That sounds like "tough love" but, truth be told, we were scared to put them on the highways, not knowing what was next and conjuring up Armageddon.  It was a very, very lonely time.

The week following the attacks, I saw a newspaper article about a service designed to support local military families that had been affected.  I called the telephone number in the article, and when the voice at the other end of the line asked how she could help me, I replied that I wasn't seeking help, I wanted to volunteer with the program.  She handed the phone to a man who has since become a close friend, and that conversation led me to eventual membership in the Mayor's Military Advisory Committee, The Military Officers' Wives' Club, and ESGR (Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve).  September 11th molded my life in New Orleans and blessed me with new friends and volunteer opportunities.

I'm not sure why, but I never really appreciated that blessing until this year: out of disaster came a fresh start; out of reflection came recognition.

Would that it could be that way for the world. 

Now.  If we could just get a little satisfaction on Benghazi . . .  .

Some Things Obviously Never Change

I was going to do a post on Obama versus the rodeo clown, but the whole darn tempest-in-a-teapot is in itself so darn absurd I figured I couldn't come close to making it appear a lttle sillier.  I mean, the guy's a clown, y'all!



Instead, this being the eve of Bouie's 7th birthday, I felt he deserved a little attention.

Not that it's positive attention or anything.

Yep.  Bouie's in the metaphorical doghouse.

Remember waaaay back in the summer of 2010 when I documented Bouie's boy-dog warfare against the plants at Moogie's Mansion?  How he was nefariously and systematically "watering" them to death?

Guess what.



Yep.  I waited a little too long to get the rosemary topiary transplanted to the flowerbed and he got it.  Poor little rosemary.  Plus, just what in the heck does he think he's doing, "watering" on the deck?!?!  It doesn't make for a very pleasant aroma, I can tell ya.

*sigh*  What are you gonna do . . . .

Happy Monthsday! (And Other Goings On)

Mysti Puppy Girl is 10 months old!  She met her new vet on Monday -- she's up to 59 pounds!  Long, lean, lanky, and as crazy as a June bug.  Seriously, there is more puppy in that puppy than in a whole litter of Jack Russell terriers (and that's saying something!).  She literally bounces off the walls (and the couch, and people sitting on the couch!  You should see the bruises.).

In other news, the IRS needs some serious supervision (or abolition), and the Hasan/Ft. Hood massacre trial is breaking my heart.  I'm not sure how I want the punishment to be meted out.  It would be interesting to see whether Obama would order a death sentence carried out, but sentencing Hasan to death would play right into his -- and radicalized Muslims' -- hand, worldwide.  But, the idea of paying for him to eat and have the very best medical care galls my soul. 

Dilemma.

And, in happier news, The Son is no longer the World's Oldest First Lieutenant!  He's now among the World's Oldest Captains!  He was pinned a few weeks ago, and DIL's uncle threw a very nice Promotion Party for him last night.  Pepper's brother from Wyoming just happened to be in the state for his high school reunion.  He stayed with us Wednesday night, and went to the party with us last night.  Their sister came to the Big City for the party, too (she and her husband live in a little town near Lake DeGray that's just kind of a wide spot on the highway).  Here's the family reunion --



They don't look like one another very much, huh?  Heh. I love my in-laws!  Since, until recently, we all lived in three different states, we have learned that we must take every opportunity that comes along to get together.  All too often that's at a sad occasion as we lay a loved one to rest.  This, however, being a happy event, made the gathering all the better.  Now, if we can just get brother-in-law to move back to the Home State . . . .

Have a Happy Friday!  I will!

Of Squirrels and Bathtubs

My squirrel resistant birdfeeder is proving up to the task, but the other one has been compromised.  They have figured out that they can hang upside down on the chain and tug open the top, then swing it a little, spilling copious amounts of seed to the ground where they munch at leisure. This maneuver and its consequences also pleases the herds of chipmunks that live below the deck.



*sigh*

On a different note, have I ever mentioned  that, while Moogie's Mansion had 4 bathrooms, they were all very small and had strange old bathtubs.  Not clawfoot or anything, but just uncomfortable tubs. Consequently, I rarely, if ever, took baths, opting for showers instead.  Since moving to the Manor, however, I have become a convert to the pleasures of a bath.  Our master bath has a whirlpool tub and separate shower (in which we replaced the shower head with a big honkin', multi-stream shower head! Love me some "oxygenated" shower.).   I had no idea what I've been missing!  Not only is a whirlpool a wondrous thing, there is also a skylight so I can watch the clouds roll by as I relax.  This is the view from my tub --



Take that, squirrels!  As long as I can relax and get clean at the same time, you can't raise my blood pressure too high no matter how many times I have to re-set the birdfeeder!  BIRD being the operative part of that word.

I hope they don't figure out how to get on the roof and torment me through the skylight.

The Very Definition of Relief

Houston, the POD is empty!

Unpacked, no, but we can send the POD back to POD
Land where we hope never to see it again. But,  the POD concept kinda rocks. We can recommend It with aplomb!