Friday Fluff

I was looking through some older photos and ran across this one taken shortly after Mother's Day. It makes me smile. I call it "Attack of the Killer Tulips" --

Keeping Things Clean

I love the way a clean house looks and smells, but I'm not so crazy about the process of getting it clean. I must say, however, that Moogie's Manor is much easier to clean than the Mansion in New Orleans. And, today, this sucker is clean! I even did some baseboards.

We don't have dust bunnies at the Manor, we have dust DOGGIES.

Guess why.

Good guess!

We occasionally even get to sit on the couch. But, just occasionally. They're anxiously awaiting post time at The Belmont. Don't they look anxious?

Crossing my fingers for a Triple Crown celebration -- I re-stocked the Triple Sec just in case. Happy weekend!

He May Be Onto Something . . .

I  told Pepper that Lindsey Graham became the latest to throw his hat into the presidential candidate pool this morning.

He just shook his head. Then he said, in a deep newsanchor-ish tone of voice, "You know?  Saturday Night Live should do a news report on that: 'Today, the last eligible U.S. citizen announced his intention to run for President, meaning that everyone in  the country is now seeking the presidency. This was good news for Hillary Clinton, because now it will take only two votes to win, and Bill really wants to move back into the White House.'"

My husband, the comedian.

Heh.

It's Tuesday

This is more pleasant to contemplate than Muslims, radical or otherwise, or the White House, or GEN Patraeus, or Attorney General Holder. Especially Holder.

Or Ohio State. Shoot -- I just detest Ohio State. Anyway -- stay warm!

The NOPD Goes Wobbling Along

New Orleans police (they call themselves "cops") may have a slightly tarnished reputation about a few things (corruption, hair-trigger-fingers, and any number of other things), but when it comes to crowd control and "community policing," they shine. We had good experiences with the "Quality of Life" officer assigned to our 2nd District, and experienced quick responses every time we called them about trouble of one kind or another at Moogie's Mansion. Especially if firearms were involved. And, yes, there were a few incidents, but those are stories for another day.

There are a couple of videos circulating today that show off some of those community policing skills, with a New Orleans flavor.  The first is a beat cop who joins in on the Mardi Gras fun, probably somewhere in Mid-City during Endymion's run.  Rats.  No embed code.  Try this link to the nola.com video here.  Yeah! That works (after the stupid commercial, and it takes a bit to load so be patient).

The other one isn't as long, and it shows a Homicide Detective busting some moves.  I found it at Lagniappe's Lair:



Pretty cool, huh?

You don't see that just anywhere.  I think the Homicide Detective has a better command of the boogie skillz than the beat cop. Maybe there's a dancing component on the Detective's Exam. What do you think?

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.

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?

Fluffy Tuesday

Did you watch the Opening Ceremonies of the Winter Olympics?  You know -- the flashy production that's going to land at least one Russian lighting engineer in the Gulag because a ring failed to light up?  Yeah -- this is a great comparison:

And, this just in:

Sad, sad fact.

Bieber? Seriously?

Now, here's something I probably wouldn't have suspected.  Justin Bieber, BadAss, hangs out with Mike Tyson, Crazy BadAss.



Egad.  Just seeing the words "Justin Bieber" and "BadAss" in the same sentence -- not to mention those words being being related to each other -- just shakes me to the core.

Where's New Kids On The Block when you need a little wholesomeness?

Or Hammer?

Mercy (and, forgive me!), I loved those pants!

The Attack of the Killer Vegetation

Look at the size of the dandelions in my back courtyard!

That's a size 6.5 beside it!  Do you think the White House has come up with a way to eliminate us with primeval vegetation?

And, where did they get it?

It's conspiracy theory day.

Pre-Christmas --We're Ignoring Congress

It's December 21st. Pepper and I successfully shopped and joined several members of the Hall High class of '72 for dinner and catching up. Good to see classmates I haven't seen in years! Social media are miraculous things, truly.

A reasonable number of workers showed up at the addition/remodel site (after, yesterday, we cunningly allowed some of the general contractor's people to overhear our strategy of pursuing action against the contractor, plus concerns about hiring the contractor to do home improvement, not DEMOLITION). We'll be especially prepared to address "explanations" of construction "shortcomings" after proof of theft and engaging in the use of illegal substances on site by some of the previous "workers" was uncovered. What a nightmare.

Still and all -- we're sleeping peacefully at Elder Daughter's house, and looking forward to Christmas! Bouie, too!

Today's Grasping-at-Straws Post

Like many blog buddies, I'm kinda in a blog-post desert right about now. 

I didn't get a good enough picture of the squirrel sitting in the gutter on the garage munching camphor berries that I watched through the kitchen door today while having my own lunch, so there's one blown idea. 

There's not much going on at Sophie Wright Institute for Academic Excellence because they're gearing up for Christmas break (but they do have a lighted and decorated Christmas tree in the second floor landing window!).

 I don't have the energy to address the Young President's simple (minded) request that Iran kindly return our downed drone, if you please.

 Sooooo, I think I'll go with "odd."

I ran across this video on a local news site, but there was no embed code so I looked it up on YouTube.  It is set in Maryland where some clown rented this sign and placed it on the shoulder of a busy road.  The city removed it "in the interest of public safety."  One wonders what the dude who put it there was thinking.



Seriously?  Do you suppose he was older than 12?

Sheesh.

Your Gift-Giving Guide

Blog buddy, Andy, occasionally shares "unusual" gift suggestions that he and Mrs. Andy have run across.  When I saw this one in a Bed, Bath and Beyond mailer in the "Great Gifts Under $20" section, I thought that I would do the same.  It's just what everyone needs!

For entertainment purposes only.  Heh.  The gift that keeps on giving (by saving the recipient all those attorneys' fees, court costs, and fines?).

This was a very entertaining mailer -- the Breathalyzer was positioned on the page right beside this gift suggestion--

Bed, Bath and Beyond is into irony!  Who knew?

Now, go warm up those credit cards!

It's Beginning to Sound a Lot Like . . . .

The Sophie Wright Institute for Academic Excellence marching band has been doing a lot of practicing lately.  Yesterday I caught them marching down our side street back toward the schoolyard.


I've been wondering why they're practicing so hard -- it's nowhere near Carnival season and football season is over for them.  Then, while waiting on Rosie to do her thing in the front yard this morning, I listened to them playing "Angels We Have Heard on High"  (well, they were sorta playing it -- some of them might have been playing something different) and thought maybe they were gearing up for a Christmas Program at school.  Then they played it again, a little better.  And again, better still.

As I opened the back gate to let in the guy from Entergy so he could change out our meters with new ones that can be read remotely (Entergy has been estimating our bills for years -- the meter readers obviously don't have the breaking-and-entering skillz of thugs who steal lawn mowers and, it turns out, cordless drills and Skil saws) , I discovered the reason for the frantic practicing -- the band was loading onto buses wearing Santa hats!  They were on their way to march in today's Krewe of Jingle Christmas Parade downtown!  Sorry -- I didn't have a camera with me, so you'll just have to trust me on this one.

I think maybe they should've practiced the Christmas music a little more, but they'll do great.

Don't you wonder why they make the 4 girls who play clarinet march in the very back?

From Today's Inbox

This one's pretty good! 

Montana Bear Tragedy
This is a very sad story about a bear... Everybody should heed the warnings not to feed wildlife because they become dependent and don't forage for themselves any longer. It is such a tragedy to see what has been done to our country's wildlife. The photo below captures a disturbing trend that is beginning to affect U.S. wildlife. (Read below photo)

Animals that formerly were self-sufficient are now showing signs of belonging to the Democrat Party. They have apparently learned to just sit and wait for the government to step in and provide for their care and sustenance. This photo is of a black bear in Montana turned Democrat. He's nicknamed Bearack Obearma. It is believed that he has become a campground organizer.

Now, if we could just get a shot of Bearack with Barack and "Hairy" Reid doing Vegas together . . . .

The Wisdom of Felines

Man, do I ever know what it feels like to be in this spot.  I think I'll have some business cards made up featuring this saucy kitty.

Stolen from Facebook.

COLLEGE GAMEDAY Humor

A little COLLEGE GAMEDAY Saturday humor, stolen from Facebook, as TS Lee bears down on Moogie's Mansion.  I figured I might as well post something while I still have power!

A guy is driving around the back woods of Arkansas and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house:

'Talking Dog For Sale'

He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard.
...
The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador retriever sitting there.

'You talk?' he asks.

'Yep,' the Lab replies.

After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says 'So, what's your story?'

The Lab looks up and says, 'Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA.

In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.'

'I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running.

But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down.

I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in.

I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.'

'I got married, had a bunch of puppies, and now I'm just retired.'

The guy is amazed. He goes back In and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

'Ten dollars,' the guy says.

'Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?!?'

'Because he's a liar...
He's never been out of the yard'

 

I don't think Bouie would lie like that.

 

Woooo Pig Soooiiieee!!!!!!

Dog Days

Yesterday saw the hottest temperatures in recorded history in Little Rock -- 114 degrees.  (It was only 112 in Needles, for crying out loud!)  That's pretty darn dog-day-qualifyingly hot.

Because of the heat (although in New Orleans, the heat index was 114, but the air temperature was just a measly 90-something), and because I'm still so sputtering mad at all the *stuff* surfacing in that "stop the sky from falling" debt ceiling bill (and the massive stock market sell-off in its wake), I intend to engage in a little fluff. 

Prepare to be subjected to dog pictures.  They make me happy.

Click to enlarge.

Is that an adorable face, or what?  I snapped this one through the front door a few days ago as I was returning from errands.  He was ready to play -- he even had his ratty old rag toy (remnant) in place! 

(The flag hasn't been flying for awhile because we've had so many afternoon summer thundershowers.  You see its reflection as it's leaning in its spot by the front door, waiting to go back up.  Wow!  Do you see what I see?  Three uses of the letter combination of I and T and S in the same sentence, and all used correctly!  How about: They're driving over there to claim their prizes.  Or: It's up to you two to win a prize, too.  Jackpot!)

I indulged myself in a fancy new Kitchenaid mixer last week, and last night I whipped up a batch of cheese souffle in it.  Bouie decided to guard the oven in case there were souffle thieves about.  There weren't any, but he got a taste of souffle anyway for his effort.  Doesn't it look as if he's exerting a lot of effort? 

I don't think you can make the pic big enough to read it, but the shortest kitchen towel on the oven door handle bears a drawing of a feather duster and says, "The house was clean yesterday. Sorry you missed it."   That would indeed be the overarching housekeeping philosophy at Moogie's Mansion.

This expression pretty well embodies my disgust at all-things-federal-government these days.

Or, maybe this one.

(Please disregard all the clothes hanging on the door and stacked on the chair.  We live in a 105 year old house, and folks didn't believe in closets when it was built.)

This one just seems to capture the essence of "dog days of summer."  A large black dog in the hot sun just doesn't want to move around much.

A blind, geriatric shih tzu who has also had several strokes, however, can walk in circles all the live-long day. Until she starts panting too much and I take her in for a drink of water and a nap -- two of her favorite pasttimes these days.  Doesn't her new haircut make her look young and spry?  (I know -- just humor her.)

Naps are always nicer in the air conditioning.  On the parlor couch where one is not really supposed to be napping.  Oh, well.  Sweet dreams Young Prince.

There.  Now I feel much better.  Hope you do, too.

From the Inbox

From a friend on the Northshore.  Yep.  This is the way it would probably go --

The year is 2016 and the United States has just elected the first woman, a Louisiana State University graduate, as President of the United States: Susan Boudreaux.



A few days after the election the president-elect calls her father and says, 'So, Dad, I assume you will be coming to my inauguration?'


'I don't think so. It's a 30 hour drive, your mother isn't as young as she used to be, and my arthritis is acting up again.'


'Don't worry about it Dad, I'll send Air Force One to pick you up and take you home. And a limousine will pick you up at your door.'


'I don't know. Everybody will be so fancy. What would your mother wear?'


'Oh Dad,' replies Susan, 'I'll make sure she has a wonderful gown custom-made by the best designer in New York.


'Honey,' Dad complains, 'you know I can't eat those rich foods you and your friends like to eat.'


The President-to-be responds, 'Don't worry Dad. The entire affair is going to be handled by the best caterer in New York. I'll ensure your meals are salt free Dad, I really want you to come.'


So Dad reluctantly agrees and on January 20, 2017, Susan Boudreaux is being sworn in as President of the United States.


In the front row sits the new president's Dad and Mom. Dad, noticing the senator sitting next to him, leans over and whispers, 'You see that woman over there with her hand on the Bible, becoming President of the United States?'


The Senator whispers back, 'Yes I do.'


Dad says proudly, 'Her brother played football at LSU.'

Saturday Speculation

Man, Little Rock got spanked by the Thursday night/early Friday morning storms. Trees down, trees down on houses.

The weather seems to have it in for people these days.

I blame it on the EPA. And the White House.