Friday, August 31, 2007

Rabbit, rabbit

From Wikipedia:

“Rabbit rabbit white rabbit” is a common superstition, held particularly among children. The most common modern version states that a person should say “rabbit, rabbit, white rabbit” upon waking on the first day of each new month, and on doing so will receive good luck for the remainder of that month.

Who knew? Happy September.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Dinah Blair

This is my great-grandmother Dinah Day Blair.

Anticipating ...

Things I'm looking forward to:

- A trip to Charleston with Babycakes. It's been almost a year since we've been out of town (alone) together. I plan to eat crab at every meal.

- Hardwood floors. The floor guy can start work in October. This is the one house project that will make the biggest impact and I can't wait.

- Backyard fence. The design is selected, measurements have been taken, and the color is being debated. But it'll be done by winter. Again, this project will change everything in the backyard and I'm so glad it's finally time to do it.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

The south is gonna sink again

I had to wait a few minutes before my haircut appointment this week. Imagine my delight when I found in the waiting area a copy of Garden & Gun magazine.

"Garden & Gun will attract men and women who live an adventure bound, art loving, skeet shooting lifestyle and who have a love affair with the South."

I glanced around to see just who these Southern art loving skeet shooters were. Mind you, this is a shop in the so-called "old Sears building" with a loyal clientele and a Russian manicurist who is so popular that a client has to die before you can get an appointment with her. I didn't see any guns. I guess we're just hard to spot.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Mary and Joseph and the baby

I've written before about our across-the-street neighbors. They are connected somehow to the Baptist Seminary down the street so we started calling them Mary and Joseph because we didn't know their names.

They are really good neighbors (yes, we know their real names now) if you can ignore the giant American flag hanging on the porch and the fact that their recycling bin is always free of wine bottles.

This week we found out that they're going to China to get a baby girl. We saw her picture and learned that they've named her Sophie Kate and that she'll be 10 months old by the time she arrives in America.

So, if Mary and Joseph have a baby girl named Sophie is that proof that Jesus was female AND jewish? I hope so. Mazeltov!

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Why do you act that way?

Disappointments this week:

FreeCycle -- Jess40258 why haven't you picked up that thing you said you wanted? I'm waiting!

Painter Pricilla -- god you are slow, and not even that good. Please, please, please will you finish with the bathroom so we can pay you and never see you again, please?

St. Joseph's Orphan's Picnic and DrunkFest -- I know, I know it's for the orphans and it's a Louisville tradition but the drunks left 11 bottles and cans in my yard last night and the hooting "Hey Buffy, c'mon over here so I can kiss ya!" went on until daylight (nah, probably 2 a.m.) and I think my property value dropped about 10 points because of you.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007


I think I killed a baby bird.

It was an accident (of course) that happened when I dumped about a gallon of water in the spider plant on my porch. I forget to water it for days and then I think I can make up for my neglect by giving it LOTS of water. Lucky for me, spider plants are forgiving. I haven't killed the plant -- yet.

When the water splashed in two tiny birdies popped up shaking their feathers and chirping wildly as if to say "whatsamattayou! trying to kill us or what?" One of them popped out of the plant and landed on the floor of the porch. It looked like it had learned to fly a little bit (I'm rationalizing aren't I?) so I didn't try to rescue it. It hopped around the porch a little (I'm sure it was in shock) and I went back inside.

The next morning the bird wasn't on the porch anymore. In my preferred version of the end of this story, the birdie flew back up into the nest to join her sibling. On the other hand, it could have been eaten by that wild neighbor cat. Or starved to death.

Or this whole incident could be a metaphor for raising teenagers who will soon be washed out of their nest -- to fly, starve or to be eaten. Either way, I'm to blame.