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.

Stolen Stuff Saturday

There's some good -- and some slightly disturbing -- stuff out there to steal today, y'all!

For those who are still in the midst of Polar Hell, this one was stolen from Harvey at Bad Example:

Or May.

And this one I found over at MacBourne's Musings (WARNING! Might frighten susceptible young children and those averse to rednecks.):

. . . "Like two raccoons fightin' over a biscuit."  Quite an image, that.

And that reminds me -- I wonder what Brit-Brit has been up to lately?

Or Paula Jones?

See -- I told you there was some scary stuff out there.

Will someone please explain to me why Britney Spears even flittered across the surface of my mind, much less stopped off long enough to rise to the level of conscious thought?  Sweet mystery of life.

1 + 2 = 12

While searching for a specific pic of Elder Daughter to post on Facebook (Today's her birthday -- it's amazing how she continues to age while I have stopped!  Heh.), I ran across this post from 2011:

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2011

The Pre- Halloween Power of Twelve

Something just occurred to me that adds up to 2012 being a banner year for Moogie's family.  Something big must be coming.

Consider these addresses with connections to us:

#12 Sandstone Court -- where I lived when I met Pep

1912 Arrowhead Drive -- the address of our first house together

2613 Wentwood Valley -- our next house -- 2 + 6 + 1 + 3 = 12

4503 Moogie Lane -- the current site of Moogie's Mansion -- 4 + 5 + 0 + 3 = 12

1912 Landry -- the address of the New Orleans Military and Maritime Academy where Pep is a new member of the Board of Directors.

ADDITION -- Younger daughter pointed out that her wedding date, 06-04-11, also adds up to 12!  Elder daughter's only misses by 1 -- 04-24-10 = 11.  Curiouser and curiouser!

Or, if you take the more "typical" numerology route, 1 + 2 = 3; 3 stands for "fulfillment, social gathering, achievement," so, unless we plan to host a big, successful party to explore the mysteries of the Mayan calendar, I doubt that The Apocalypse will come into play.  I suppose we need  politely to decline any invitation to attend such a party, too, so please don't invite us to one.

Pretty weird, huh?  What do you think?

Ordinarily I wouldn't re-post something like that, but I have thought of some more big Twelves.

The Son was born on 12/2; his first son was born on 2/12.  

When Pepper moved to New Orleans, Younger Daughter and I moved to an apartment down the street until she graduated from high school, then we moved to NOLA full-time.  The address of the apartment was 2221 Wentwood Valley, #12.

Our new palace, Moogie's Manor, bears the address of 14212 Moogie Court.  And, yes, that Twelve did indeed factor into my evaluation that this house was meant for us.  (Along with several more coincidences).

So,there was no Mayan Apocalypse in 2012, but Obama was re-elected.   That's disaster enough.

I wonder where my next Twelve will come from?

The Pre- Halloween Power of Twelve

Something just occurred to me that adds up to 2012 being a banner year for Moogie's family.  Something big must be coming.

Consider these addresses with connections to us:

#12 Sandstone Court -- where I lived when I met Pep

1912 Arrowhead Drive -- the address of our first house together

2613 Wentwood Valley -- our next house -- 2 + 6 + 1 + 3 = 12

4503 Moogie Lane -- the current site of Moogie's Mansion -- 4 + 5 + 0 + 3 = 12

1912 Landry -- the address of the New Orleans Military and Maritime Academy where Pep is a new member of the Board of Directors.

ADDITION -- Younger daughter pointed out that her wedding date, 06-04-11, also adds up to 12!  Elder daughter's only misses by 1 -- 04-24-10 = 11.  Curiouser and curiouser!

Or, if you take the more "typical" numerology route, 1 + 2 = 3; 3 stands for "fulfillment, social gathering, achievement," so, unless we plan to host a big, successful party to explore the mysteries of the Mayan calendar, I doubt that The Apocalypse will come into play.  I suppose we need  politely to decline any invitation to attend such a party, too, so please don't invite us to one.

Pretty weird, huh?  What do you think?

Ductwork. And Gas Pipes.

It appears that Moogie's Mansion has morphed into "The Money Pit."

Total replacement of all the AC ductwork downstairs, and replacement of the (6 year-old) heating unit needed.  While they're removing old ducts, they discover gas leaks.

And, a holiday weekend is coming up.  A holiday weekend with a tropical depression dumping 10 to 20 inches of rain on south Louisiana while I have open ducts under the house.  And no anti-humidifier.  (Hope you get a little bit of it, too, Andy).

::$igh::

How do these things know to happen all at once?!?!  These alone would be bad enough, but we've also started the addition to the Little Rock house where younger daughter and SIL#2 live, and I need to be there during the day!

Who's the Bad Luck Coordinator from Hell?  He'd better stay out of my way, if he knows what's good for him.

History Repeating . . . ?

I wish I had received the email earlier this month that today sent me searching for something I found at PatriotThoughts.com.

We commemorated the 66th anniversary of Victory in the Pacific and the end of WWII earlier this month.  August 6th or 10th would probably have been more appropriate dates to ruminate on the decision to use nuclear weapons against a civilian population in order to save that civilian population.

The photographs and narrative on Patriot Thoughts are indeed thought provoking.  The Enola Gay, Bockscar, Little Boy and Fat Man; Hiroshima and Nagasaki; Saipan and the Banzai Cliff. 

The incomprehensible mindset of the Japanese people of the mid-Twentieth Century.

Tiny Tinian Island, is described as "a flat green dot in the vastness of Pacific blue."  The very idea that a place that today looks like this:

was the starting block for this:

and this:

is, in itself, a stunning notion that sends the mind into a self-examining do-loop.

What the science of History has been able to extrapolate from an unbiased, dispassionate distance is this: the utter and total destruction of Japan's major cities led to the metamorphosis of her culture; led to a nation that today is capable of creating this:

We've seen the rise and fall of great peoples -- and great cities -- throughout human recollection.  Even recently, and very close to home. 

When New Orleans drowned, her rotten-to-the-core, inadequate public education system crumbled along with her.  Today, that education system is among the fastest-improving systems in the state.  Perhaps, wiping the slate clean and having little to build upon save that which is buried beneath our feet, is what gives rise to legitimate human progress.  Civilizations are built upon civilizations.

What does that truth suggest about our Nation during the first term of Barack Hussein Obama?  Are we crumbling as a people, looking to rise from our own ashes?  Will it take that to get us back on track to being the world's Superpower?  Or, are we sliding toward a penniless and wretched decline as just another cog in the global machine?  Is that really what the Progressive movement desires?  Can it possibly be?

Perhaps August 21st is just as good a day as the 6th or 10th to wax philosophical on the destruction of a once great nation -- whether, as Rome, caused by rotting from within like a gangrene, or as Hiroshima and Nagasaki, by nuclear holocaust.  

Would that I had some answers.

Mystery of Life -- Highway Construction Edition

This trip's on-the-road-with-construction observation about the "One Lane/Slow Down" Flag guys (obviously I've spent quite a lot of time in "Park" lately, observing highway construction Flag guys) --

The Flag guys work in pairs, but only one of them gets "control" of the ice chest, whether it be for distribution purposes or sitting purposes.  It usually seems to be the older of the two.

Do you suppose this is a "mentor/apprentice" thing, or is it a Union Seniority thing?

Mercy, I hope it's the former.

Wonders Are Ceaseless Indeed

FINALLY got our income tax refund check from Louisiana for 2009. Not only did they not reduce the refund after "reviewing" our return since last October, but they also kicked in a little interest (very little ) for our "patience."

You'd better keep an eye to the sky -- there may be flying pigs aloft.

Moogie Slips Under the Weather . . .

. . . and I don't mean it's snowing or anything like that.

Have you ever noticed that when you're not feeling well, the force of gravity increases tenfold, at least?

Trust me on this one.

Musings on a Dark and Rainy Evening

Here are some musings for ya.

How come the garbage bag waits to break and spill until you've struggled to get out of the kitchen door without an eager dog, it's dark and rainy, and you've already busted a blood vessel trying to move the big green monster trash can far enough away from the house to get the lid to stay propped open so you could've swung the previously unbusted garbage bag into said big green monster on an evening when your blood sugar is running low and you've been understandably a little testy? Trust me, you've been understandably a little testy. Trust me, okay?!?!

And just who busts a blood vessel in the knuckle of her pinky finger anyway? And who ever suspected a busted blood vessel in the pinky finger would smart so much?

Just wondering.

Moogie Gets Reflective -- and More Smarter

Now that life seems to be returning to normal around Moogie's Mansion (whatever that may be!), I'd like to share a few ruminations that have been rattling around in my head.

First off, our precious granddaughter, Princess Lizzy, turned 3 on January 14th!  Oddly enough, this odd blog also turned 2 on that very same day.  So Happy Birth-iversary to us, Lizzy Lou!!!

I looked back at last year's Blogiversary post, and found it pretty tame and standard.  It was, however, absolutely true in its simplicity.

Nonetheless, I've learned a lot about life, and the blogosphere, since last year. 

Life is mainly about relationships.  It's odd how the human psyche craves relationships.  We may have the best friends and families on the face of the Earth that fulfill us to no end, yet we still yearn for more contact.  We "adopt" pets, we cultivate plants, we name our automobiles.  Even the Cast Away dude made a friend of Wilson, the basketball, and grieved its loss at sea.

Today, we spend hours in cyberspace, both in Social Media and the blogosphere, trading yarns, opinions, and barbs with people we've never laid eyes upon in person, yet feel as comfortable around as the chums we made in elementary school.  That's the spot where I find myself today. 

That's also where I didn't find myself in late December - early January when my routine was discombobulated by the holidays, merriment, serious footballage, and the onset of Carnival.  And I have since learned that the discombobulance made a difference to, and had an effect on, me on several levels.

First off, I missed you guys!  I missed having the opportunity to visit your spots a couple of times a day to catch up on what you were doing and to leave a snarky (or supportive) comment.  I missed having the time to post the fruits of my brilliant discourse and analysis, prodding some of you to leave snarky (or supportive) comments here.  I may not ever say it, but I truly do appreciate your comments.  As many of you have already admitted, I now openly acknowledge that it really does mean a lot for people to take the time to think about what I've come up with and type a reaction or two.  That's a connection that is very, very real, regardless of tactility. 

And there.  That word, tactility.  I wouldn't have come up with that word last week.  I wouldn't have come up with that word because of the Second  Lesson I've learned about this blogging thing.

Bloggers are among the best informed folks around; they're the best researchers, the cleverest wits, unafraid to express their true opinions and duel with those whose opinions differ.  Becoming that type of folk requires a great deal of intellectual work.  And that was another thing I missed during the holiday hiatus -- the intellectual work.  I physically worked my derriere into near exhaustion with important, yet mundane things, like hostessing and housework and feast-making, but I finally recognize that I need more than that to keep my brain on its toes. Use it or lose it is a very real concept.  Probably more so as we age.  It hit me square in the noggin last week when I had to ask Pepper while we were watching a movie what the name of that town is -- you know, the capital of Norway.  Not the capital of Sweden; the capital of Norway.

Today, after just a few days of regular research and blogging, I'd never have to Google Oslo. 

That's pretty much of a major relief in the Alzheimer's fear sphere.

So.  To keep me properly befriended and on my mental toes, I vow not to let my research and blogging slip as much in the future.  Watching non-stop movies in the company of family, and sharing drinks with corporeal friends are important, but the ol' brain needs its daily recommended dose of gritty stimulation, too.

(It probably didn't hurt the mental mush, either, that Congress was in recess and I could shove them into a drawer in my head and ignore them for a few weeks.  Congress is definitely a stimulus, both to lucidity and to the blood pressure.)

Again, so.  Here's to another year rattling around the blogosphere, and to my friends and families, both physical and virtual!!!  Good health, good times, and bon mots!!!!!

Love, MoogieP.

Not-so-Mysterious and Pride

So there was a mysterious, unexplained let's-dance-all-around-it contrail spotted and videoed off the California coast last night.   Just some 30 miles off the coast, some say.

I know what it was.

Young Kim Jong Un is feeling frisky and wanting to stretch his 27-year-old, 4-star General-ish muscles.  Even though he's not an Admiral (that we know of -- yet), he apparently has command authority over the NorK submarine fleet. 

That has to be what it was -- NorK missile fireworks to entertain the Young Un.

And to send a message to our Young President who will be visiting Young Un's backyard shortly.  I hope the State Department is paying attention.

On another hand, some friends threw a "Going to Officer Basic Farewell Party" for The Son on Sunday.  I was in Little Rock and actually got to attend!  He'll be at Ft. Sill -- that's close enough to be able to get home for Thanksgiving, a long Christmas break, and occasional weekends until he finishes up in April.  I'm pretty proud of him -- and of his precious family for supporting him.  So, these are Moogie's kids -- a pretty handsome group if I do say so myself!

Good luck, Kiddo!  Cock some cannons and kick some butt!

This Brave-ish New World

Remember when the abbreviation "Hi-Fi" referred to high fidelity music reproduction instead of a large amount of dietary fiber?

Where did we go wrong?!?!

Familiar, "Familiar," and Fond Adieu to Rue

I'm sitting here on a Sunday morning listening to the church bells chiming their golden-toned hearts out a few blocks over from Younger Daughter's house. Her sweet big dog (half lab, half Golden) and my little blind-and-usually-deaf shih tzu are lolling around on the cool tile floor while I pound on the keyboard before heading out to lunch with she-who-should-be-my-sister-if-I-had-siblings. We'll call her Diane. Since 2008, she has lived half the year in Little Rock and half the year based out of Hong Kong while she accompanies her husband as he travels the Pacific Rim with his kinda complicated job.

And it struck me.

Dang. The last few days have been just about nearly perfect.

I have gotten to spend a lot of time with Diane as we prepared to co-host a pre-wedding party for another of our friends' child, had lunch with my Daddy (and will get to see him again before heading south tomorrow), enjoyed my children's company, drove short-cuts and traffic-avoiding routes by reflex, laughed until I couldn't breathe, and enjoyed visiting with a whole houseful of friends at the party at one time.

I got to live, albeit briefly, the little things we take for granted until we move far, far away from "everything familiar." Little things that we recognize we miss when we return to them, even after we've lived far, far away long enough for there to become "familiar."

There's nothing like becoming the friend of an adult child (although, giving up the role of unsolicited-advice-giver is a little tough and takes a lot of practice. I'm still trying to master that one). I've always been close to my kids, but becoming their confidante and drinking buddy, being among the first they think about inviting to go to a movie or shopping, and watching them become willing friends to my friends is nothing short of solid gold. But now I don't want to go home to the "new familiar."

Except -- the "new familiar" is where Pepper and Bouie are, and they still need me in addition to loving me. And it's really good to be needed, too.

(Well, and, I miss them, too, I guess.)

So, the past few days have been just about nearly perfect, except I didn't get to see the grandkids because they went to the beach with their Mom and another grandmother, and Rue McClanahan passed away.

Sweet dreams, Blanche. And stay out of the oil, little ones! Moogie will be heading back to the "new familiar" if you need her.

Beware of Hitchhikers!

Just another day in southeast Louisiana -- petroleum fumes occasionally wafting through the spring breeze to compete with the fragrance of gardenia and jasmine on our block, and an unexplained sick headache nagging at me for days.

Then, I meet this guy.

As I parked at the neighborhood mom-'n-pop grocery yesterday and glanced in the side mirror to check for thugs sneaking up on me (not really -- I just have a habit of checking all my mirrors before shifting into park. I'm not sure why -- maybe it is a subliminal thug-confounding thing!), this little guy popped his head up and said, "Hi there!" He rode home with me, catching the breeze on the side mirror.

I'm told by a Baton Rouge school-teacher Facebook friend that he's a Tussock Moth Caterpillar. He's colorful and has funny nodules on his back. He appears to have two large feathery antennae and something long and feathery springing from his rear end. Oddly, he didn't appear to have stinging spines like Mr. Buckmoth Caterpillar. I was apparently wrong.

He was just comical, the way he appeared to be listening to me, waving those feathery antennae around -- he made me smile, but something told me not to invite him to crawl around on my hand like I would invite an Arkansas woolly-booger.

Pepper tried to ootch him onto a dollar bill so he could put him safely into the jasmine on the phone pole. But, the little guy slipped, fell onto the pavement, and scurried under the car.

Now, after looking him up, I kinda hope he fried on the pavement under the car! It appears that up-close-and-personal contact with Mr. Tussock Moth Caterpillar's feathery plumage can cause quite a number of unpleasant symptoms in human beings, including poisoning. And he and his kin can pretty much defoliate a tree without breaking a sweat!

Moral of the story -- #1: for all the fun and culture it has to offer, southeast Louisiana is a very dangerous place!

And, #2: always listen to that little voice in your head that warns you about picking up strangers, no matter the species.

Looking Inward

Brains on the floor, brains on the floor. Feeling like a fool with my brains on the floor.

So, I guess I'll close most of my mind except for a little teensy spigot, and explore what I've been storing in there for a long time. That'll be a lot less messy.

Introspection can't be all that bad.

Stranger Than Fiction

You can't make this stuff up.

I'm not one to find humor in the misfortune of others, but sometimes it just slaps you upside the head and begs to be shared with the world at large.

I got a phone call this morning from a long-lost friend, whom we shall refer to as "Law School Buddy" ("LSB"). We haven't seen him in years, but I recently re-connected with him via Facebook. I was really happy to have found him because he was in our wedding nearly 32 years ago and it's just good to know that he's alive and doing well. It turns out to have been a happy-making experience for him, too, as you shall see.

It seems that his son, LSB Jr., is down here with some classmates in New Orleans during college spring break doing good works with Habitat for Humanity. And, it seems that Junior and his buddies went to the Quarter last night for a little R &R as a reward for all their hard work.

After "boys will be boys" and all that jazz, it seems that one of Junior's comrades -- let's call him Dumb Ass -- became seriously over-served. He was so over-served (and engaging in some of the less than genteel behavior that often accompanies over-servement) that one of New Orleans' Finest, a mounted patrolman, sternly suggested that DA return to his hotel to sleep it off. DA took offense to that suggestion and, in an effort to make the officer aware of his dissatisfaction with said officer's suggestion, he also took a drunken, college-boy roundhouse swing at said cop.

See where we're heading?

So, LSB called me to get a little help locating a New Orleans jailhouse lawyer, giving me just the barest outline of the facts and Junior's cell phone number. After I talked to Junior the first time (and ascertained that he was in the clear and in one piece) it was hard to keep a straight face. Herewith is a little paraphrasing of that conversation:

Moogie: "So, what are the charges filed against DA?"

Junior: "Public intoxication, resisting arrest, and cruelty to animals."

Moogie:"Cruelty to animals? You mean he punched the horse, too?!?!"

Junior:"No, ma'am. He missed the cop and hit the horse instead."

Moogie:"Mmphhh . . . !"

It's hard to imagine, but we've lived in New Orleans for over a decade now and have yet to need the assistance of a criminal lawyer. Neither of us is licensed in Louisiana, so Pepper made some calls and I sent an email to a local attorney friend to get his recommendation. Here's the email:

"A friend's son is down here on spring break and one of his buddies got really messed up last night. (There's a surprise!) He swung at a cop and hit the horse instead. I know -- stop laughing. Anyway, he's charged with public intox, resisting arrest, and cruelty to animals. I know -- stop laughing. When our friend called, he said the kid had hit a cop -- I'm not sure which is worse.

Can you recommend a good criminal lawyer?"

When he called me with some names, our attorney friend agreed -- he's not sure whether hitting the cop or his horse would be worse. It was kind of hard to understand him when he said it because he was laughing so hard.

LSB stifled a chuckle, too, when I filled him in on the details later in the day.

The kid's in trouble, for sure, and I do hate to find humor in the misfortune of others, but . . . .

Like I said -- you can't make this stuff up!

First Person Report From Haiti

From my friend, Larry, a retired Coastie whose last duty assignment was at the Embassy in Port-au-Prince. He still retains close contact with a Catholic church there:

I don't know were to start to tell you how bad the situation is in Port-au-Prince. Help has been slow in reaching the victims, causing more victims... Most of the city and surroundings are destroyed. No electricity there, and practically no phone services anywhere in the country. I am at a loss trying to communicate in my own area which had no damage. Now, there is a gas shortage all over, making things still worst... and so even here, the electricity is being rationed, which means that I'm having a hard time keeping up with the internet services which are not too good. All our scolastics left Turgeau today, and arrived in Gabions, on way to their new assignements in different parishes. The Procure is like the house where the "lady lived in a shoe... " Price is here with Toto for now, and my 3 visitors from California, us four, and five others !!! Another contingency is expected to land here tomorrow... We have practically no liquidity left, with all the banks closed, and not soon to open. I am sure from what I heard that the death toll will exceed the 300,000 mark!!! There is not a person I talk to that does not have a death in the family... We still don't know how many priests,seminarians, and religious are dead... or still dying because not enough help is on hand to save them. Leogane is 90% gone, great destruction from Petit Goave all the way to Cabaret !!! Boy, were we lucky in the South!!! We have no news at all of the Jacmel area , and so I presume it's like the South... Where the quake hit hard everybody is living and sleeping in their "yards"... or in the streets. Whatever is left standing is not safe. The Turgeau Scolasticate is completely destroyed, as well as the Annexe of the Provincial House. The old section of Prov. House is cracked and unsafe. The confreres there are living in the back yard near the steps... The stench of dead corpses is all over town, so bad that they are burning the corpses... Blanchard area suffered no damage, and all the scos. there are OK, but must leave because theres nothing left to stay for!!! There is not one school, church, or any type of public building left in the whole area, nor decent private home, just a few here and there... with no where to go. The roads are open, but there 's a huge crack in Tapion, near Petit Goave where fuel trucks , and big transport can't get through. Since everything was centralised in the Capitol, now the whole country is affected. Since the govenment has also collapsed, law and order is starting to break down. We will need those 10,000 US Forces... It will take a miracle to get all the countries involved in the rescue mission and rebuilding to really put their act together... and in time !!! It is now after midnight, Joe, and I must say a little prayer before I go to bed. I'll try to get back to you soon. We all appreciate your concern and especially your prayers for more strength in this terrible ordeal, much like the Book of Job... Bye, Fred,omi

I simply cannot imagine how very bad it is now, considering how very bad it was before the quake. And there is little or no way to get help in to them. God speed.
>

Imagine

I'm reading The Shack (by Wm. Paul Young) -- my husband passed it along to me; his sister had passed it to him after she finished it. A lot of it makes my head hurt from thinking too much, but, overall, it's an interesting, and not too difficult, read. Some of its ideas are pretty intriguing. Here's a little taste -- Jesus is speaking of humans:

"You imagine. Such a powerful ability, the imagination! That power alone makes you so like us. But without wisdom, imagination is a cruel taskmaster."

No truer words, those.

Witness the folks in D.C.. And elsewhere.

Art, Puppy Love, and Inexplicable Horror

My friend Dale is one of the nicest guys I know. He always has a smile on his face and proudly sports a tattoo of #3 for "Dale Senior;" family vacations regularly include a trip to Talledega. He and his interesting Uncle Iggy have done our heavy yard work for six years now -- he even kept up the yard while we were evacuated after Katrina.

That was a tough time for Dale -- those post-Katrina days. Not only was his home flooded (his young family lived in a FEMA travel trailer for over a year, but they still managed to add a precious baby girl to their two sons during that time!), his family's business -- a successful Nursery and Landscaping Service -- also flooded and had to start over from the ground up. To add to the misery, his younger cousin -- a strong, young soldier -- was killed in action in Iraq.

Thankfully, though they'll never get over the loss of his cousin, both the family home and the business have now fully recovered and are doing well. Dale has even added a hobby to his rather full schedule that came about as an offshoot of his late uncle's Bonsai-training business -- he has become an artist!

Yesterday morning when I took a check out to him for doing the yard, he said, "Wait a sec, I've got a present for you!" and he ran to his truck. Beaming and grinning from ear to ear, he proudly handed me this beautiful copper-wire sculpture of a hummingbird hovering near a hibiscus blossom -- just like the one in my back courtyard!

My smile and admiration of his piece pleased him, and he told me that he knew he had gotten good at the complex sculpture when his teenage son recognized the flower as a hibiscus and wasn't embarrassed by his dad's hobby any more! Ah -- the coveted approval of one's own!

I'm honored he chose to give me a piece of his work -- I think he could sell it! Now I can't wait to put it in a pot of mums on the front porch to show it off to the neighborhood, but I'll have to plant some mums first.

The non-artistic pic? Bouie had a close call yesterday when his rear leg got twisted up in the plastic mesh in the front yard. I mean seriously twisted -- I barely managed to cut the tight mesh off, and I was afraid he had hurt his hip or tendons! His poor puppy leg swelled badly, but we don't think he did any permanent damage. He didn't seem to mind the cold compress and baby aspirin too much, but he really ate up the extra attention he got from a concerned dad. See above.

So, on a day of surprises -- both good and bad -- life went on, for most of us.

For others, it was cut short, unexpectedly and treacherously in an upscale Dallas neighborhood.

R.I.P., Mary and Spud. Thanks for sending Bouie to us. And may God have mercy on your souls.