Cathy in the Wright

Yesterday

Renewal of 1-year On-Star contract: $199

Phone call to On-Star requesting they unlock your car which is sitting in your parents' driveway with the keys on the backseat floor where you dropped them to retrieve The Governor out of his carseat: free

Not having to tell your husband you locked your keys in the car: priceless

Move Over NYTimes

Our local paper has a "Man on the Street" feature each week. Four poor suckers get their picture published with their answer to some scintillating question.

What's your favorite season?

What movie would you recommend to a friend?

Do you miss licking stamps or have self-adhesives made a positive change in your life?

You get the picture. Today's question actually broached the boundaries of current events: What do you look for in a presidential candidate?

The answers:

"He has to have a Godly character." (Awesome! That would be so cool if the Pres. could send down a plague on North Korea!)

"Honesty." (When Jimmy Carter admitted "I have lusted in my heart," I decided I could live without total honesty in a President.)

"That they are their own person. Not a puppet." (As long as the puppet is working to lower my taxes, I don't care if a Republican, Democrat, or Big Bird presides over Easter Brunch at The White House.)

"Honesty." (Folded under pressure from hard-core journalist and copied answer from lady in square two.)

What do I look for in a presidential candidate?

Good hair.

And How Are You?

Some days you're the snake...some days you're the frog. Today I'm the insect.

At The Senator's swimming lesson this morning, The Governor went into full tantrum mode because I wouldn't let him toss his metal airplane at the kids in the deep end of the pool. We had to go stand in the hallway because the swimming instructors couldn't be heard over the yelling and screaming. Once we were out in the hall, The Governor let me know the full extent of his displeasure by biting me in the shoulder.

At home this calls for an immediate over-the-knee response, but in public I'm a bit more wary. One never knows when an overly indulgent social worker might be in the crowd.

Unfortunately for The Governor, I also have a bit of a head cold. My hesitation was conquered by my throbbing head. And shoulder.

One quick swat on the behind and a two-minute time out was enough to convince him that sitting in the stands by the pool eating snacks was a better alternative to hollering in an empty hallway while Mom ignores him.

He just went down the The Nap. (Did you hear that 'Alleluia' chorus too?)

The Senator and I are now going to eat cherries out on the front porch and spit the pits at the audacious little chipmunks living under the deck.

Many thanks to the guys over at Fraters Libertas. Clicked on their site this morning and giggled like a school girl. Hey, that's my blog up there!

If anyone else wants a glowing review to quote on their web site...just let me know.

Back To Reality

Thanks, blogging fans, for stopping by The Outpost. Now that everyone has read about the Blogger Party, I can go back to my usual mundane dribble about life on the farm. But I do have a few small details to wrap up:

Hey - DC from Brainstorming - we're neighbors and I didn't realize it until after the party. I'm right below you on Mitch's blogroll! Now you're right below Mitch on mine. I really like your site.

And Captain Ed...you made a joke in the comments here that you might have cracked the camera lens had I taken a picture of you. Silly man! The only reason I didn't solicit a picture was that when we were introduced, I hadn't had a beer yet. I only got brave with the camera after a couple of Sam Adams. You're adorable. Next blogger bash...you and me, buddy!

Thank you once again, new visitors, for popping in for a look. It's safe to go back to your regular blogroll routines. From here on out, it's the domestic babble my 20 or so steadfast readers have come to expect.

And what tops the list of domestic babble these days? Why the Tooth Fairy, of course. I got home from soccer Sunday evening to find that The Senator lost another tooth. He was dancing around the house singing, "A dollar! A dollar! I get another dollar!" Now...I'm as proud as any parent when I see emerging signs of capitalism in him, but I think I'm going to have to watch and make sure he isn't trying to knock these teeth loose prematurely. This morning he told me his front tooth was loose. I fully believe all remaining dental work will be gone by Thursday if I'm not observant.

I don't have much else to report. The cows are getting fatter, the pheasants are due to be released soon, and the fawn in the pasture is getting braver about approaching the fence. I haven't seen her, but my in-laws have reported several sightings.

Ah...I hear Satan The Governor rattling his crib rails. Time to release the two year old. If I don't post tonight...call the authorities.

Blogger Party

I returned a while ago from the Minnesota Blogger Party hosted by The Northern Alliance. Thank you, gentlemen, for a wonderful evening! I talked The VP, my brother, and my dad into going as well, and we all had a great time.

I'm sure Mitch Berg will do a bang-up job describing the whole thing so I won't go into much detail, but I must say that this group was full of friendly, gracious, intelligent, and good-looking folks.

I was looking forward to meeting Mitch, and I accomplished that. Proof below. First person who comments on my chipmunk cheeks gets banned. Trust me, I've heard it before.

I also had a chance to meet King from SCSU Scholars:

And my favorite radio personality, Mr. Bob "You're An Idiot" Davis:

Furthermore, Mitch indroduced me to Captain Ed from Captain's Quarters and three of the handsome lads from Fraters Libertas...the ones who "write withering and anonymous social commentary in their underpants". (Laura Billings quote...not mine.) Another treat was meeting The Big Trunk (Mr. Scott Johnson) from Power Line.

In addition to bloggers, there were many attendees who are avid blog readers. We met Joe and Chris (Kris?) from Maplewood. Joe's t-shirt caught my attention. It had a picture of the Eiffel Tower with the red slash through it. Given the recent French behavior towards Lance Armstrong, I didn't think it was too overboard for a non-political party.

Oh yeah...Lileks was there too. He was surrounded by so many fans that we didn't try to break into the inner circle. So all I can tell you is that he is indeed quite short.

We had to leave around 7, so I'm sorry if I missed some of the other bloggers I was hoping to meet. Maybe next party, Dan and Natalie and Andy.

Thank you, again, Northern Alliance. I enjoyed the opportunity to finally put some faces to these authors.

Addendum: My brother recaps the evening as well over at Three Sheets to the Wind.

The Professor v. New York Times Editorial

The Professor copied me on a missive he sent to the New York Times. I don't have a link to the original op-ed piece, but it must have been one of these pieces bemoaning the horrible crushing of dissent when a famous person (in this case, Ms. Linda Ronstadt) spews political pabulum and the public responds with a bib and and a 30 grit Wet Wipe.

I wish I wrote this response:

Cathy, I sent the following to the New York Times editorial letters' page:

The writer of your recent editorial about Ms. Ronstadt’s being booed off the stage and kicked out of Aladdin must have been driving a Yugo over washboard gravel recently, because his or her common sense seems to have shaken loose.

Of course, the singer has a right to express a political opinion, and even from the stage. However, nowhere is it written that customers who take offense must sit still and swallow her political cod liver oil, in lieu of the cotton-candy entertainment for which they paid, or thought they did. Hey, it's Vegas, not the Cooper Union Forum!

Ms. Ronstadt should have promoted her performance as a combination of politics and song. But, oh my, that kind of truth in advertising might have hurt ticket sales.

Sincerely,

Well done, Dad!

This Is What Conceal And Carry Is All About..

Yesterday after dinner, The Senator and I were sitting on the front porch steps enjoying the pleasant evening. He was also enjoying a frosted cookie. The last frosted cookie in the bag.

I scooted close to him.

Hey, Senator, that cookie sure looks good.

It is, Mom.

I scooted a little closer.

I don't suppose you'd want to give your old Mom a small bite, huh?

No.

Ah, come on! Just a small bit. A little nibble. You'll never miss it.

No.

I moved closer and leaned over and started to open my mouth. He kept on nibbling and didn't look at me, but slowly reached down, picked up his squirt gun and pointed it at me and said,

My cookie.

Blog Roll Addition

Jeff over at A Little More to the Right discovered a gem.

Don't miss Liberal Larry over at BlameBush!

Too Good To Last

One of my co-ed leagues had our first play-off game last night. As we're sitting on the sidelines waiting for the game before us to finish, someone says, "Hey, do I remember correctly that Brian isn't going to be here?"

S - H - I - T.

Brian is our goalie. And a good one at that. When Brian is gone, we all look at each other, trying to guess who's going to get the short straw. Last night it was me.

I don't mind playing in net every once in a while, but play-off games are dreadful because if you tie, there is no overtime in this league. You go straight to shoot-outs.

Yes. You're right. We tied. We went straight to shoot-outs.

Shoot-outs are a horrible way to win or lose a game. Someone who can normally fire the ball with laser accuracy folds under pressure and shoots high or wide. (See Baggio, Roberto: star Italian forward shanks penalty kick in '94 World Cup final, Brazil wins.)

I managed to stop one shot that was hit softly and straight at me, but a couple of our shooters choked under pressure and missed the net.

They're fired. Next play-off game I'm letting all the defenders take the PKs. No one expects us to hit the net anyway.

Happy Tuesday!

Happy, Happy Tuesday! Really! I mean it!

If you glanced at the title of the post and thought, "Eh...her creativity is ebbing to an all-time low," or "Gee, Cath, isn't it a little early to be getting into the six-pack," you'd be misguided.

Today is merely THE BEST TUESDAY MORNING EVER!

The Governor slept ALL NIGHT!

After four consecutive evenings of high fever, stuffed sinuses, and general miserableness which required my commiserating participation, he slept through an entire night. Well, technically, he did fuss a bit around 1:30 and again at 5, but both episode resolved themselves without my intervention. I got out of bed, but he was quiet before I reached his room.

Three and a half hour stretches of sleep! Not 45 minutes...not an hour. 3 -1/2 hours! Winning the lottery would seem anti-climatic this morning.

To further boost my good mood, if it indeed could be boosted...The Senator decided yesterday that swimming lessons are fun! He's signed up for two weeks of classes and Sunday night he was adamantly against going.

I DON'T WANNA GO!

He went. He discovered there was a kid more frightened of the water than he was. Confidence soars as does the fun index. Today there will be no tears as Mom suggests he put on his swimsuit and get the *&@!@# out to the car.

No, I didn't swear.

But last night as I was trying to get some saline mist up The Governor's nose and he was trying NOT to get saline mist up his nose, I sprayed and sent salt water all over his face. I was so tired and frustrated I said, "Damn! I missed." In between crying and screaming, The Governor started repeating, "Damn, I missed," over and over again. I started laughing. Sure, I'll be in a bit of trouble with The VP today, but man, was that funny. Too bad The Governor didn't think so.

Time to go eat breakfast. By myself, because both boys are STILL SLEEPING! Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Dave P.: You're The Best!

I've had a rather lousy couple of days, but this cheered me more than a cold six-pack of St. Pauli Girl.

Go listen! Democrat or Repulican...you'll enjoy it! (Page loads a bit slowly, but worth the wait.)

Thanks, Dave!

You're The One That I Want - Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Baby!

This ought to set Grandma's hair on fire:

Thanks, Nana, for sending this one my way.

TGIF...I Think

Today sure looks promising.

Last night The Governor started getting sick. He has a fever and is a bit shaky. No other symptoms. I think I'd almost feel better if he were sneezing or coughing. This hot and wobbly stuff gives me the creeps. Fortunately, the last time he did this, it was over and done with in 24 hours.

Last night I also found out my uncle is turning liberal on me. He and his wife drove up from Missouri with my grandparents for a brief stay in the cities. After my soccer game last night, I stopped at my parents' house to say hello to the new arrivals. My uncle was already at his hotel, but my mom joyfully told me that Uncle B. was more than ready to discuss his dislike of President Bush. Say it ain't so, Uncle B.! Aren't you the same guy who held Oliver North as your personal hero? What happened?

I guess I'll find out tonight at the family dinner. I hope, brother-in-law Mike, that you are planning on attending tonight's meal: The Conservatives could use some reinforcements. My mother is dancing on cloud nine at the thought of finally having some liberal allies.

Fortunately for me, I will get to leave most of the politics up to The VP. (Good luck, dear, but try not to make my relatives cry, okay?) I will be bailing early from dinner for a soccer game. After that, I will be picking up my nephews for a weekend visit to The Outpost. It's always great to have some free slave labor the boys come and stay. I know they are looking forward to stacking wood all day tomorrow. If not they can help me yank the weeds out of the landscaping rocks around the house. Don't forget your DEET kiddos!

With all the above happening, I am missing something I was really hoping to attend: my neighbor's bachelorette party. I'll be thinking about you, T.D.! Hope you have lots of fun and take some pictures of the stripper for me. Oops. Sorry. Forgot you gave my url to The Groom. Heh. Kidding, Andy.

Summer Continues..

Another day at the beach. (Sorry, Aelfheld - wish you were here.)

We went to a local beach this time. Lots of snail shells along the shoreline. Very clean lakewater, by the way. I hear water clarity can be related to the health and size of the snail population, but I'm too tired to research it right now.

Anyway...lots of snail shells. Most of the shells on the beach were empty, but we found one that had a resident and I showed it to The Senator. He took the snail and played with for a while, and I assumed he would leave it on the beach when he was done. The Senator had other ideas. He shoved it in my tote bag to bring home to show his father.

I discovered the snail when I went for the car keys. The snail pooped in my bag. For those of you unfamiliar with snail feces (and that included me up until today), it STINKS. A lot.

Being a rather curious person, I had to scrape the brown, wet spot on the bottom of my bag with my fingernail to see what the mess was. Mistake. I have scrubbed my hand until I can almost see bone, and I still can't get rid of the awful smell. The tote bag is sitting on the front steps. I can't bring myself to throw it away, but I can't get close enough to pick it up to wash it either.

Lesson learned, I suppose. Next trip to the beach I will be sure to pack along some evidence bags in case we stumble upon something else worth sharing.

Tomorrow: more summer, my grandparents from Missouri visit, soccer, and my nephews come back to The Outpost and stay through Saturday. The potential for blogging material: elevated to high.

Perfect. Summer. Day.

Today was it. I hope you didn't miss it by staying indoors and working or anything. You never know in Minnesota...this could be the only perfect day we have all summer.

The boys and I drove into my sister's house in Mound and from there headed to a little beach near her place. The parking lot was empty. The beach was newly raked. The water was refreshing. The breeze kept the sun from becoming too hot and the bugs from becoming a nuisance. The boys were well-behaved.

It was, well, perfect.

I almost dread tomorrow; it would be hard-pressed to beat today. Thursday is in the running, however, as we are anticipating another trip to a beach with Nana and Buppa.

I hope if you did sit inside all day, you at least got to eat lunch by the cafeteria window. Maybe tomorrow, if it's another nice day, you could put on some suntan lotion instead of deodorant and toss french fries over your cubicle wall and pretend the seagulls are eating them. (Hey MP, that reminds me...is 2:30 guy back? Maybe the seagulls could leave him a little present.)

But I Don't Have A Thing To Wear...

Mitch Berg and the Northern Alliance gang are trying to gather Minnesota bloggers for a party!

Whoo-hoo! Would that be fun!

Natalie and Andy? What do you say?

Dan?

Ryan left a comment that sounds as though he's interested.

Maybe Lileks?

Bob...you interested?

Blogger, Interrupted

Sorry about the hiatus. I've really had nothing to say for the past several days. I've played a lot of soccer, cleaned the house a bit, had several of The Senator's preschool friends over, watched the cows grow fatter, and wrecked my neurological system with copious amounts of DEET.

Today was an especially nice day. I had our neighbor girl, hereafter known as The Uber-Sitter, come over to watch the boys so I could go to the grocery store alone. The Uber-Sitter is a fantastic babysitter. She's the kind of babysitter who is down on the floor playing trucks and cars with The Senator rather than chatting on the phone with girlfriends. She digs out the stroller and takes The Governor on long walks. She brings along playdough she made herself. "I thought the boys would like it." Saturday night she sat with the boys so The VP and I could go out to dinner. I told her we would be home before nine. Her answer: "Don't worry. Stay out as late as you want. I don't have anything to do tomorrow morning. I can sleep in."

I nearly wept.

She's so good, I've started thinking about family vacations in terms of "Where might The Uber-Sitter want to go?"

And no...you may not have her phone number.

Blogroll Addition

Enjoy Every Sandwich. The guy's name is Skippy. Really. He's funny, although now that he's on a quest to be described with "hip hop lingo" I should perhaps say, "He's all phat and a bag of chips."

Or I would if I knew how to speak hip hop lingo.

If you are sarcasm-impaired...this site is not for you.

Thanks to Velociman for pointing me in Skippy's direction.

Cows v. City Girl

Last night I found an old box of Cheerios stashed way in the back of the pantry. The label indicated that it should have been consumed about a month ago.

Well, I hate to waste food, so I took the box and emptied into the cattle trough along with their usual bucket of oats and corn. When I went out later to fill the water tank, I saw that the dumb beasts didn't eat the Cheerios. They had done their best to get the oats and corn, but the Toasty O's still remained.

I was steamed. Who are they to snub perfectly fine stale cereal? Stupid hoofers.

This morning I shoved the still un-eaten Cheerios to one end of the trough and poured in some more oats and corn. The cows came down and crowded around the Cheerio-free zone. I couldn't take it. I went out and hollered at them and called them names and tried to shame them into eating the Cheerios. (Some of my finer parenting skills coming into play.)

This afternoon I headed out to the trough to clean out the Cheerios lest my father-in-law see the mess and have a great laugh at my expense...and behold! Empty trough. Bone dry. Licked clean.

Good cows. Good cows. Don't be surprised if there's not a few extra molasses pellets at dinner tonight!

Never underestimate the power of ridicule.

Mrs. Ward Cleaver I'm Not

The Governor talked me into using the "car" grocery cart at the store today. Familiar with these? The front end of the cart is a plastic car body with a bench seat and two steering wheels on the dash. These atrocious carts are hard to maneuver, hold fewer groceries, and are an overall pain to use. But the kids love them. So in a rare moment of parental fondness, I gave in and used The Car.

Big. Mistake.

Within minutes, The Governor is whining to get out of the car and The Senator is whining to get in to it. The Senator gets in and The Gov decideds he wants his spot back. They cannot both fit. Fighting ensues. Behold! The bakery! Look boys, I say, here is the bakery. Here are the glazed doughnuts with colorful sprinkles. You may each choose one, and if there is no more fighting...you may eat your doughnuts on the way home!

Doughnuts are chosen. Doughnuts are bagged. Doughnuts are promptly forgotten in the dairy section as fighting breaks out once again.

I battled my way through the rest of the store, abreviating my list dramatically, and by the time we were checking out, The Gov was in full melt-down. The Senator was whining about something and I went crazy. I grabbed the doughnut bag. "See this, boys? These are the doughnuts. See that? That's a trash can! Guess where these doughnuts are going if you don't both pipe down right now and remain quiet until we get to our car? That's right. Straight into the trash!"

The boys were instantly silent. So was the checkout lady. And the other customers. I must have looked positively wild.

I finished bagging groceries and as we were heading out the door, The Governor points his finger at me and yells, "Bad Ninja!"

Breezy and Hoocher really enjoyed sharing his doughnut.

A Memorable Visit...

Today is, of course, nursing home Tuesday. I hose down the dog, wake the boys early, feed every living beast at The Outpost their breakfast, and we head into town.

Today's visit was fairly routine, although I would like to share a conversation I overheard. I was sitting with Mrs. S., who was thoroughly enjoying her time with Hoocher. My presence being thoroughly superfluous, I turned my attention to the words issuing from the bathroom that Mrs. S. shares with the room next door.

Nurse's Aide (NA): Come on, Rosie. I need you to lean forward a bit more.

Rosie: indistinct murmur

NA: I know Rosie, I know. But you need to lean forward. I need to put in the enema.

Rosie: indistinct murmur

NA: That's it. No. No! Don't touch. I'm sorry, honey. Just a minute. Okay. Now push, Rosie.

Rosie: indistinct murmur

NA: Come on, Rosie. Push it out. Can you push? Try again.

Rosie: indistinct murmur

NA: No, you can't get up quite yet, dear. Try to push. Come on now. Push.

Rosie: indistinct murmur

My attention was drawn away at this point because Hoocher was choking on popcorn, so I fortunately didn't hear the conclusion of the conversation. I did hear the NA emerge from the bathroom and tell a nurse in the hall, "Oh yes, we got quite a bit out!"

Think your job stinks sometimes?

Next Year I'm Wearing My "F The French" T-shirt...

Happy 4th of July! My day? Why thanks for asking.

After an informal soccer game I went over to a friend's house for a pre-fireworks party. My friend and her husband are fairly liberal, but we don't discuss politics much. Even if politics came up in a conversation, I would never worry about getting into an argument because they're two of the few Democrats who don't let emotions completely take over rational thought. She reminds me a bit of Natalie. I'd include Andy, but he's a closet conservative anyway.

I met my friend in the kitchen and headed out to the backyard. Uh oh. The first person I see is an old high-school friend of mine and his wife. He's wearing a MoveOn.org t-shirt. He and his wife are both teachers, and I'm pretty certain they're strong supporters of the NEA.

His sister is also there with her girlfriend. While I really like the sister, her partner makes me grind my teeth. She's extremely proud of the fact that she hasn't purchased any new clothing in over four years, and loves to brag that the dishsoap she buys at the co-op will last for several months "because it really takes so little soap to do a load of dishes." Six ounces of soap (she recycles the same small bottle and takes it back to the co-op for refills) lasting several months? Glad to hear she's conserving; won't ever eat a meal off her dishes.

The last couple I like, but when the wife starts talking about her last job as a union organizer (tried without success to unionize the graduate assistants at the U of M), I have to dig my fingernails into my palms until the pain prevents me from speaking. Her husband is a good guy - mainly because he's another soccer player and loves big dogs - but votes party-line Democrat.

Well...being the sole conservative in a crowd is not daunting. Until someone innocently asks about what stores might be open tomorrow.

...

I was attempting to recreate the entire conversation, but it was too chaotic to reproduce in coherent sentences. The general tone was that the evil, capitalistic Republicans were keeping retail stores open so that the minimum wage-earning surfs could suffer through their horrible, non-unionized jobs and go home and eat cold gruel and miss the fireworks.

A few moments later, someone on the street lit off a string of firecrackers, which led to another diatribe on the horrible thing the Minnesota legislature did by allowing some minor league fireworks to be purchased legally.

Someone started in on handguns, suggesting they should all be illegal, but I interrupted and said, "If handguns aren't legal, how would I shoot all the raccoons, stray dogs, feral cats, skunks, and other varmits around the farm?" Horrified silence. It wasn't a fair shot on my part. I use a rifle. For the record: I don't shoot stray dogs.

I drown them.

Kidding. Just kidding.

When the group got ready to head for the park to watch the fireworks, I decided to go. Said good-bye to my ever-gracious hosts (they didn't comment much during the evening) and headed home.

Next year I'm thinking of hosting the party here at The Outpost. I think we'll grill some Federally-protected song birds, set up the shooting range, and hire several illegal immigrants for less than minimum wage to serve and clean up the joint.

Bet I steamed all the Democrats in the family with this post. Sorry Mom.

Just How Mean Are You?

I'm SO mean, I beat on my 3-legged, cancer-ridden dog tonight.

Now I know I'm going to have a difficult time justifying my actions because you're all feeling sorry for the dog in the first place with the cancer and missing leg...but the damned pain-in-the-ass bit me.

I decided, rather unreasonably, to tackle another quadrant of THE BACKYARD. Huge mistake. The mosquitoes were so thick I couldn't breathe without inhaling half a dozen with each intake. The grass and the thistles are now taller than I am. I'm not sure what I was thinking; my best hope at this point is to wait for fall and try controlled burns.

Anyway, I fired up the gas weed trimmer and discovered The VP had let the dogs outside. They HATE the weed trimmer. They started to do their crazy "I will kill this intruder" dance around the business end of the trimmer, and as I'm taking a swing at Hoocher with my foot...Breezy sneaks around behind me and nips me on the back of the thigh.

There is no way she can convince me she was going for the weed trimmer and got me by mistake. No way. She deliberately gave me a nip. She's never done anything like this before. I think she's been spoiled for so long now she figured she could get away with anything. Not so.

I dropped the trimmer and turned on her. Grabbing her by the back of the neck, I thrust her face to the ground, which was pretty easy once that front leg gave way. I hollered at her and shook her by the scruff a couple of times. I was going to get really mean, but the mosquitoes were starting to building derricks anywhere they could find exposed skin. I had to let her off easy. Just so she'd remember who's boss around here...there were only four treats tonight. Yep, I'm that mean.

When I go to the nursing home on Tuesday, I think I'll rough up some of the wheel-chair bound patients...but only if they've had a stroke so they can't fight back.

What Does The Day Planner Say For Thursday?

My folks asked, nay, begged to babysit the boys today. I must oblige. And now I'm stuck wondering what to do with my free day. Again I find myself awed at the sacrifies I make for my family. I should win an award or something.

I know what I'm NOT doing today: taking 3-legger to the vet. She's holding steady with no coughing and no spitting up blood. I think we've seen the beginning of the end, but the final trip to the vet has been postponed another day.

I DO need to find some bookshelves. We're a bit overrun with words here at The Outpost. I'd like to find some old-fashioned barrister book cases with the glass doors. I know they're out there, but I'm afraid of finding particle board and plastic. My grandfather had an amazing set of these bookcases. I don't know what wood they were made from, but they are heavy and solid and unfortunately, only one or two cabinets remain. At my parents' house. Full of...stuff. It makes me ache. Truly ache.

Ah - I hear The Governor squawking. He woke at 6 this morning demanding to have his doughnut. Huh? I told him we don't have any doughnuts and to go back to sleep and dream about something that we actually might find in our cupboards. He did.

Might as well rouse The Senator and get going. I'm wasting valuable alone time.

Note to Buppa: We saw the fawn! I forgot to tell you on the phone. We came down the driveway, and not too far back from the first gate on the left...there he was. He's definitely more than a few days old, but all spotty and cute.

Note to Margaret: Did we have enough people at the game on Thursday? Win? Lose? Have a great time up north this weekend. You too, Dave!