The Circle Remains Unbroken

There's an angel on my shoulder.  JB's gardenia cutting not only survived and is growing, it's blooming!!!

You know how Moogie can be a little strange when it comes to the prophetic value of ordinary things that surround us.  Well, I believe that the successful rooting and thriving of my treasured gardenia is JB's way of celebrating the upcoming birth of her third grandchild -- and first granddaughter.  She'd just do something like that!

I also treated myself to some potted tulips from the Krogerville earlier this week.  After they wilt, I'll plant the bulbs in the backyard where we can see next spring's blossoms from the deck.

I'm such a happy girl.

Except for the pollen part of spring.  I'm kinda hatin' on the pollen thing.

Welcome, Spring!

G-7 to the Forefront

So, the G-8 has expelled Russia and plans to have a meeting this summer that's not in Sochi and that will not include VladPut.

And the shunning moves full steam ahead.

He must be crying into his pillow.

This Guy Ain't Exactly Mister Rogers

Just look at this sweet face, soaking in the warm, early-spring sun this afternoon.  Take a good, long look. Can you imagine this people-pleasing pup being guilty of doing anything to cause a human being any consternation?

I didn't think so.

Well, guess again.

Yesterday, Pepper and I were working in the backyard, getting ready for spring by raking up near-literal tons of leaves and sweet gum balls, and the dogs were "helping" us by transporting sticks from one spot to another, and playing in general as big dogs are wont to do. They wandered off every now and then, so we tried to keep up with their whereabouts and call them back if they strayed too far for comfort. 

Looking from the deck, this is part of the green space with a little creek running through it behind the house. You can imagine how big ol' Labradors would just relish romping around out there.

As we were packing up the tools and getting ready to call it a day in the clean-up department, Pepper whistled for Bouie.  At the same time, a neighbor we've never met (because they live on a street far away -- our backyard backs up to that green belt, as do many others from many other streets) yelled out, "Hey!!! Your dog is in my yard taking a pi$$!"

Seeing as how that's pretty much what boy dogs do, both of us were a bit taken aback, as you might imagine.

As you may have deduced over the years that there is a reason my husband's parents nicknamed him "Pepper," you might also imagine that the air might have turned blue in Pepper's general vicinity while he explained to the unneighborly neighbor just how the cow ate the cabbage. (Or, how the labrador hiked his leg.) But, the air retained its pure, clean hue.

Instead, a few long moments of silence ensued while my imagination worked overtime at lightning speed to try to predict what was preparing to explode form my soulmate's mouth.  But then, instead of spewing invective, he simply said rather loudly, "Oh. . . . Sorry."  Then he called Bouie again.

I was very proud of my Pepper for taking the high road.  Even so, we both had a hard time letting go of this episode throughout the evening.  I mean, Bouie didn't poop, or trample any plants, or "water" the guy's grill cover or anything! He aimed at a tree, for crying out loud!  I mean, it's still stuck in my craw today. What does that guy think the coyotes do back there?!?!  No one should use that tone with someone he's never met.  Nor with his best friends or acquaintances, for that matter.

Here's a view of the neighbor's "pristine" yard from the back rail of our deck:

Looks pretty special, huh?  I'm glad the trees will leaf out soon and we won't have to look at it until Fall.

While all the neighbors on our street are very nice, pleasant folks, the people on his street must not all fit that bill.  I have, therefore, decided to put this guy in the "a**holes I don't care to get to know better" category. He'll have to earn his way out of it.

What do you wanna bet that he's a progressive?

Sheesh.

Louisiana Politics Rears its Interesting Head

You may recall that, back on February 12, I reported on the guilty verdicts rendered in the corruption prosecution of former New Orleans mayor, C. Ray Nagin. Within that post was a little tidbit about Nagin's fellow corruption ex-con, the frequent former Governor of Louisiana and recent occupant of a federal prison "camp," 86-year old EdwinWashington Edwards.

Edwards is what some might describe as a "colorful" figure.  Others might describe him as an eccentric fellow.  Or a corrupt scoundrel.  The term, "demagogue," also has a certain accurate ring to it.  He is definitely a raconteur.

Regardless of any epithet used to characterize The Governor, one thing is certain: the man is a championship quality politician.

In addition to occupying the Governor's Mansion for an aggregate of sixteen years, Edwards also served in the Louisiana state Senate and the U.S. House of Representatives. During those early years, he grew to be a master of creating political alliances and deals, so much so that in 1983 he was famously known to have bragged that he couldn't lose an election in Louisiana unless he was "caught in bed with a dead girl or a live boy."  One Louisiana cartoonist came up with the following, but it was never published, making what would today be known as "viral" rounds in the state via FAX machine instead:

Weakened by a corruption scandal in 1985 (for which he was eventually acquitted, after at least one mistrial), Edwards eventually went down to defeat in 1987, withdrawing from the race when Buddy Roemer placed first in the Open Primary, and handing over the keys to the Governor's Mansion well before Roemer was to be sworn in.  But was he through?  Noooooo. Not our Edwin. He quietly girded his loins and prepared for a re-match in 1991. That race proved to be one of those you-can't-make-this-stuff-up kind of scenarios.

Governor Roemer had been wiped out politically by the mess that Edwards left him, so after the smoke cleared, the 1991 Open Primary saw first place occupied by good ol' Edwin, and second place, putting him into the run-off instead of third-place Roemer, was won by David Duke.  You know -- the David Duke who was at the time a KKK elite and radical neo-Nazi.  That was an "interesting" election, with at least one bumper sticker admonishing voters to "Vote for the Crook. It's Important,"  and the good people of Louisiana did just that -- they voted the Crook back in instead of the ultra-right-wing kook.

Edwards is also a bit of a ladies man.  He is currently in his second May/December marriage, having twice divorced -- his first marriage (to Elaine) ended after 40 years (and after having appointed her to fill an unfinished term in the U.S. Senate some 17 years earlier);  his first May/December union (to Candy) ended while he was imprisoned, because "she had suffered enough."

Edward and Candy Edwards

The current Mrs. Edwards is 35-year old Trina, also the mother of his fifth child, born in August of 2013.

The happy blended Edwards family

They met after she began corresponding with and visiting him in prison, and married after his parole in 2011. In addition to their joint venture of creating a new human being (which is just kinda creepy to think about), the Edwardses also recently partnered on an A&E television reality show, "The Governor's Wife."  The program also starred two of Edwards's 60-something daughters and Trina's sons, pictured above.  To say the show was woefully atrocious is wholly inadequate to describe just how very bad it was. Mercifully, it didn't last long.

So, why am I all about The Governor today?

You won't believe this.

Well, maybe you will.  It's happening in Louisiana, after all.

Earlier this week, on Monday, the unsinkable Edwin Edwards announced his 2014 run for the 6th Congressional District seat.  The Advocate, one of Louisiana's statewide newspapers, laid out in print what many people felt:

Many agree that former Gov. Edwin Edwards will turn a sleepy race for Louisiana’s congressional 6th District seat into something more interesting, but it’s not very likely he’ll win.

I mean, really.  A  felonious, washed-up politician, reality-show reject running for national office?  Right.

Wait. What?

Today, a local polling organization announced that Edwards is not only leading the field, he is leading by 23% over his nearest rival for the Primary.  The Daily Kos leapt into the "LA-6 just went from safe -Republican to HUGE PROBLEM for GOP" spin machine, because Edwards is, after all, a Democrat.

This race should get fully cranked up about the time pre-season  football hits.  I'm not sure which will be the more entertaining spectator sport.

A Case of the Creeps

Something's on the horizon. I can feel it in my bones.

I don't know whether it'll be good, bad, or something in between, but it's poised out there.

Sometimes it's not pleasant to live in interesting times.

And with the leaders of the United States and Russia engaging in a childish game of "Nanny, nanny, boo-boo! You and your friends can't come play at our house!" we seem to be stuck in a bad episode of "Dennis the Menace." Seriously. Putin and Obama need to be locked in a covered playground and made to compete in a dodge-ball contest, shirtless, until one of them yells uncle. Or Dyadya, if you will. (I'm thinking it'd be uncle.)

But, something's out there. I'm feeling really anxious.

I Think Putin is a Little More Threatening Than Secretary Kerry or the Foreign-Policy-Less Best President EVER

Saw this over at Funniest Memes:

It's looking that way.

Do you suppose this

is in the hands of dissatisfied Tatars who'd rather be left the heck alone than be either Ukrainian or Russian? Are we about to see a really big terrorism event involving a large aircraft? Or, did it simply vanish? This one is a pretty big mystery.

The Crimean vote seems to be fairly lopsided in favor of the Russkies.

I'm thinking that our valiant, forceful Secretary of State is working himself up to a pretty darn good pout about now.

A Sad Farewell

It's a sad day in Moogie's World.

Elder Daughter and family are in New Orleans for a huge Family St. Patrick's celebration -- it's been planned for at least a year.  A friend has been house/dogsitting for them. We got the call while enjoying lunch after the local parade -- Pippi, ED's 11-year old Chiweenie, was in serious distress.

We raced to get there. I cuddled with her as I lay beside her on the floor, and told her what a good girl she was as she labored to breathe. Younger Daughter got there to hold her and get ED on speaker phone. Little Pippi Lou Puparoo left us after she heard her Mama's voice and responded to it. We were all a sobbing, rattled mess.

Tyson, ED's boxer boy, came home with us because he knows our pups, and will be distracted by them. He's very confused. (Although, it's not particularly unusual for Tyson to be confused. He's more of a lover than an intellect.)  And, he's a little frightened by the doggy door. I hope our pups convince him it's not going to get him.

I'll never forget the vision of a tiny, frisky half-dachshund/half chihuahua months-old puppy prancing toward me with those Dobby ears flying and tail wagging to beat the band the first time I met her. Pepper gave her a taste of his hamburger on that trip to Fayetteville -- that was her first "people" food.  We didn't tell ED for awhile. ;-)

Farewell, our Pippi Lou (or "Pickles," as SIL#1 calls her.) You'll forever remain in our hearts and memory.  I choose to remember you as that little puppy, and as patiently tolerating your Mother as she took picture after picture of you so that you could forever be our Pippi Rudolph:

Thanks for the love, little Pippi Burrito. We'll miss you so.