I had planned to take Mlle Renee to her first Barkus Parade in Soulard this morning and so she got up early and dressed in her finest beads. This is the big canine parade that marks the start of the Mardi Gras celebration in the Wicket City's old French neighborhoods. Unfortunately when I made those plans I wasn't expecting to walk out the back door and slip on some black ice last night.

Mardi Gras Renee Dressed for the Barkus Parade

Suffice to say my derrière is not a well-padded as it once was, and I ended up with a pain in the ass this morning. Mlle Renee, being a very forgiving companion, sniffed and said "Well, I guess we'll just stay at home. Again!" Then she spent the rest of the day coming up with reasons for me to get off my my soft cushion and attend to her needs. Really, five calls of nature‽ When she only wet her whistle once‽

Anyway, she was in a better mood this evening, and I decided to humor her by watching the Super Bowl. Mlle Renee, who favors herself as a gentile French lady of manners [In reality she was a street walker in her youth.] has been an ardent fan of the New Orleans Saints.

And while I thought a Saints win would be nice, I didn't think they would be lucky enough to pull it off. So she wagered me two Milk-bones that the Saints would send the Pony-boys to the happy corral in the sky. And after the first quarter I started wondering what I was going to do with two Milk-bones.

But wouldn't you know it, the Saints must have had a lot rosary credits tucked into their pads I wonder how many were Greg Herren's? because they were able to come from behind and whomp the tails off those guys from Indiana and give us the best Super Bowl game since the Rams took number XXXIV a few years back.

So Mlle Renee and I send congratulations to all my friends in New Orleans. Live it up and party, but take note what happened to the Rams after SB XXXIV.

SAINT LOUIS LOUIE* Photo © Arele 2009

Boy the silly season is starting early this year. As we all know, February 2 is fast approaching and sensing the possibilities of making the news at five and ten it seems the PETA people are venturing forth from their winter hibernation to come to the aid of none other than Punxsutawney Phil.

Now Phil has got a good racket going for him. He only works one day a year, and for that he gets pampered and coddled in a climate-controlled habitat with all the good eats that are needed to keep a groundhog in tip-top health.

No! No! say the PETAs. It's unfair to kept Phil imprisoned year round and then subject him to glaring lights and the loud and noisy thousands of Phil-phans who flock to tiny Punxsutawney for the one day festival every year. Instead they suggest the Inner Circle of the Puxnsutawney Groundhog Club use an animatronic groundhog.

WHAT‽ Put Phil out to pasture in the wild where he would have to face the untold horrors that Mother Nature created to shorten a groundhog's life, and replace him with a metallic model made in China and cover in synthetic fur‽ Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to ground Santa's reindeer, not to mention what they'd want to do to poor Rudolph's nose that glows so bright.
An animal rights group wants organizers of Pennsylvania's Groundhog Day festival to replace with a robotic stand-in.

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals says it's unfair to keep the animal in captivity and subject him to the huge crowds and bright lights that accompany tens of thousands of revelers each Feb. 2 in Punxsutawney, a tiny borough about 65 miles northeast of Pittsburgh. PETA is suggesting the use of an animatronic model.

In response the president of the ICOTPGC said that Phil is "being treated better than the average child in Pennsylvania."

Maybe PETA should start looking into the treatment of children in Pennsylvania ... especially if they're being made to get up early and go out in the cold on a February morning to see if they can see their shadows.

But then, that's just my humble opinion.

*NOTE -- we don't have any groundhogs in the Wicket City. So we use Saint Louis Louie who is our resident prairie dog.

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail -- shall keep this puppy from her appointed trails! With credit to Herodotus and the USPS. Photo © Arele 2010

Mlle Renee came into the kitchen this afternoon to tell me it was time to go for her daily perusal of the neighborhood. I got my coat, put on my street shoes and grabbed her leash. Then I opened the door and discovered that a very heavy snow was in the process of falling.

Snow does not deter Mlle Renee! Actually it made her walk even more exciting. And she did not try to catch snowflakes on her tongue. She preferred to run her nose through the snow on the ground and then lick it off. Don't ask, it's a dog thing.



Hopefully she won't expect snow every day for her walks.

What do you mean time to get up?

OK, Mlle Renee will be soon celebrating her first anniversary as my best pal. Unfortunately for some reason this past week she has stopped responding to the name Renee. However if I call her Sally, the name given to her when she was at the rescue shelter, she not only responds but her eyes light up.

It all started this week when I received a postcard from the County Health Department addressed TO THE HUMAN COMPANION OF SALLY reminding me that her annual rabies shot was due in the next few weeks. She always lets me know when my post-lady walks up and the porch and goes with me the get the mail and say hello to the post-lady. Jokingly I said, "This mail is for Sally!" Immediately her head popped up and she looked up at me with her special doggie grin.

OK, I'll admit it Sally was a very butch name for a very butch looking dog, and I didn't really want to stand out in the yard calling "Sally, Sally!" for all the neighborhood to hear. Actually I wanted to name her Ralph or Rex, but both names were taken ... one by my next door neighbor Ralph, the other by Rexford Lambert. So we tried a lot of names by trial and error, and she seemed to respond to Renee quite eagerly. Up until this week, that is.

Could it be a case of puppyhood regression? Recently I've noticed that whenever the lady from the rescue shelter is interviewed on TV, she immediately perks up and starts watching the screen. And she didn't even show any interest at the TV when I watched Beverly Hills Chihuahua or the Lassie reruns with her. Maybe she's missing the canine companions and the help at the shelter. I'd hate to think that she's considering a replacement human.

One other problem, ever since I stuffed and roasted a plump little pullet ~ ~ in the oven last Sunday she's been very hesitant about going in the kitchen and she totally avoids going near the oven. Also she's afraid to go near the central heating grates in the floor.

So if there are any dog whisperers or psychologists out there, we sure could use a little whispering and or advice.

Mlle Renee Reads THE FASHION HOUND MURDERS by Elaine Viets

A few weeks back the big guy handed me a book and said, "I think you might like to read this one, Renee." Now this was kind of strange since his precious books are always on the Renee No-no list. So this book was either special, or he was trying to trick me into shredding it over the floor so he could chase me around with that god-awful growling Dirt Devil. Considering my options, I decided to settle into my favorite spot on the carpet and give it a read. Well, if a cockroach like archy could write a newspaper column, an above average canine like myself surely can read a book‽

Anyway, as I read I discovered the book was about Josie Marcus a mom from Maplewood who works as a mystery shopper in the stores around Saint Louis. Her boss, who is even sloppier than the big guy, gives her an assignment to go out and shop at a chain of pet stores that had once been involved in selling puppy mill pets. How dare them? I'm sure glad the big guy buys my food at Schnucks and my toys from Target.

But back to the book ... Josie goes to one of the stores where a lady clerk is suspicious about the guy managing the store. And she asks Josie to meet her that night so she can tell her about it. But somebody kills her before Josie can talk to her. And the police tell Josie to butt out, so naturally she gets even more involved. That brings us to the part where her daughter talks her into getting a cat and where they visit the Missouri Humane Society animal shelter on Mackland. She learns a lot about the shelter and the work they do rescuing dogs and cats found on the streets.This was kind of personal for me because I was an abused puppy lost on the streets of the city, and this was where I spent four months being nursed back to health before I convinced the big guy to take me home. Anyway they adopt a cat, take him home and name him Harry.

But back to the mystery ... we meet Josie's boyfriend, ex-boyfriend and a real hot vet who makes house calls, and Josie actually discovers a puppy mill while on a date. Also Josie realizes that somebody knows that she knows too much. This is where the book becomes a real who, why and how done it, and let me tell you, it's hard for a dog to turn pages really fast. There's also snakes in the book, and I hate snakes! That's why I always chase them out of my yard.

I won't tell you who did it, but Josie figures out who the bad guys were and all is resolved in the end. This was the first book I read, and I give it five tail wags. Josie and Elaine Viets (the lady who wrote the book) do a great job making us aware of the evils of puppy mills and the importance of the work animal rescue groups do. Should I ever meet them, I will really lick their hands.

There is, however, one thing I would like to clear up. Josie, don't be ashamed about talking to Harry your cat. He and all the other dogs and cats in the world understand every word their big guys say to them. The only reason we don't talk back is ... you big guys are usually kind of boring.

A NOTE FROM MLLE RENEE'S "BIG GUY" -- Renee was found by the Missouri Humane Society wandering around the streets when she was six months old. She was either lost, stolen or abandoned. She had been on the street so long her puppy collar was embedded in her neck and had to be surgically removed. After spending four months getting well at the Society's shelter she was put up for adoption, and I was lucky to be the one she selected to be her "big guy" and give her the forever home she deserved.

This year the US Postal Service is issuing a set of ten stamps featuring rescued dogs and cats to promote the work rescue shelters do and to encourage adoptions of rescued animals.
Join with them in spreading the message of adopting a shelter pet and be sure to support an animal rescue group in your area.

Also for a good read, like Mlle Renee, I recommend THE FASHION HOUND MURDERS the latest in Elaine Viets' Josie Marcus Mystery Shopper series.

This year the family decided to do something a little different for the holidays. We spent a day and a night enjoying the various venues available in the wonderful Forest Park. Thankfully it was the only day in our so far frigid winter where the temps hovered in the mid to upper forties. Our prime reason for going was to take a personally guided tour of the fantastic collection of Japanese screens which is currently the featured exhibit.

500 YEARS OF THE ART OF THE JAPANESE SCREEN A joint exhibit from the collections of the Saint Louis Art Museum and The Chicago Institute Of Art.

Because the post is rather photo heavy, you have the option of spending the day with us or the evening.
( DAY TOUR )

( EVENING TOUR )

We did have the option of going on to the ice skating rink in the park, but we decided that perhaps we were just a little too old. It was a fun family day though.

Oh, well, it looks like we've just about limped ourselves through yet another year ... and the end of the first decade of the 21st Century as well. All things considered, it wasn't a very impressive decade, and I feel it will really be getting short shrift when the guys who come up with decade names finally get around to naming it. Right now, I think the top contender for the decade name would be The Naughts! What more could you say about the most negative decade in ... well decades. Even when we tried to finish up the decade with the election of the first Black American president, his call for the political parties to work together turned the GOPhers into a bunch of nay sayers! I guess we can always hope for something better in the upcoming ten years. Unless we really do run out of time when the Aztec Calendar runs out!

But speaking of naughts, from early news reports things are looking somewhat bleak for the new year at least on the local news front. Seems like Paster Fred Phelps (a genuine naught/nut) of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas has directed his hatred toward the Wicket City.

Yes, the raging pastor has just proclaimed, "God Hates Lady Gaga" Almost As Much As "God Hates Fags!" (Not to mention his hatred of homosexuals, lesbians, Jews, priests, people, presidents and especially presidents of color.) How can God really hate so much and so many and still be God.

Now in addition to protesting the funerals of fallen servicemen, he is rallying the forces of the WBC and sundry other bigots and bombastic types to join him in Saint Louis in front of the Fabulous Fox (which he will really hate just because of its decadent decor) to protest the concert of Lady Gaga on January 7. He says she has "the forehead of a whore" which I find rather strange because I've never even considered the forehead as being a selling point for a woman of the evening.

You know, the Wicket City is kind of an easy going city. And we invite just about anyone to visit ... as long as they're willing to spend a buck or two while they're in town. But I have a feeling the WBCers are somewhat tight with their bucks outside of the collection plate. They're probably even going to brown bag their trip. Maybe we'll be lucky and have a massive snowfall or a repeat of Christmas morning on I-70 on the sixth.

​As for New Year's Eve ... even though we will be experiencing a once in every 19-years Blue Moon ... Mlle Renee and I will be spending the evening at home probably watching a movie or two. And yes, we will be imbibing in a healthful toast or two to usher in the midnight hour. (I'm fresh squeezing the clementines for exotic screwdrivers.)

So good cheer, health and happiness to all in the new year. And feel free to visit and join the anti-Phelps protest. We can always put up a few anti-haters, as long as you don't mind sleeping with Mlle Renee.

WISHING YOU A SNAPPY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I guess you could say that my Christmas Days for the last several years have been dull to uneventful family affairs. After a couple of years they all became a case of déjà vu. I would go out to my brother's house in the afternoon of Christmas Eve and help my sister-in-law fix the Christmas Eve dinner. Then I would sleep over, go to Christmas Mass, return home, eat breakfast and wait for the presentation and opening of the presents. It's fun to watch little kids open presents, but as they grow older it too becomes routine.
When it comes to gift giving I've always tried to come up with something that fit the personality or needs of the person I'm giving it to. But what do you give an aging gay uncle who usually has already acquired everything he might want or need for himself. So the Christmas gifts I received became a progression of gift cards from Borders, Target, AMC, Bed, Bath and Beyond, Applebee's or Panera's or the Bread Company. All of which were welcomed and used, but all rather unexciting. Then I would return home for a quick sandwich or TV dinner and an evening with a movie on TV with Oskar my cat.

Well, as you all know Oskar went to the heavyside layer after Christmas last year and was replaced in my affections by Mlle Renee on Valentine's Day. Living with Mlle Renee ruled out Christmas Eve dinner and a sleepover at my brothers. So I bought a spiral-cut ham and prepared dinner for a long time friend. Trust me it was the best ham I have every baked, even though I'll probably be eating it in a gazillion different ways over the next month or so.

Christmas Day was scheduled to be spent with my brother and his family as usual. And my soon to be niece-in-law called on Thursday to say that since she had to pass my house on the way to the far suburbs where my brother lives, why didn't I ride out with her. OK for me, since I've never been on to turn down a free ride.

Friday morning dawned rather overcast with a temperature around 40 that soon began to plummet. About 9:00 snow flakes began to fall, and about 9:30 the morning calm was destroyed by the sound of crashing cars, police car, ambulance and fire-truck bells and sirens. Shortly after that my phone rang and my driver informed me that she was blocked on the highway by a massive multi-car accident.

Luckily the police diverted all the traffic off the highway and she was soon in front of my house ready to drive to my brother -- usually about a 45-minute drive.

We bypassed the accident and got on the highway a few exits further on, and though there were a few snow flurries in the sky the highway surface was smooth sailing. Smooth sailing that is until we passed the airport and the sky let loose with a blizzard of blowing snow. There was no traffic on the road, but we were really forced to reduce speed.
And as we crept westward, we began to count the accidents we saw in the east bound lanes. We had just reached 20, when our car began to move sideways. The sideway movement soon turned into an ice spin worthy of Russian figure skater as the car did a few turns across the highway and came to a stop against the median -- facing east in the west bound lanes.

We looked at each other while simultaneously asking, "Are you OK?"
Since we thought it wouldn't be a good idea to get out of the car to check if it was OK, she started the car and slowly turned it around to continue down the highway. Five minutes later we got of the slick westbound highway and onto the southbound highway that for some unknown reason was completely bone dry! A few minutes later we arrived at my brothers.

Slowly we got out of the car to examine the passenger side of the car. Instead of crumpled metal we found the side covered with a sheet of ice. The only damage was a three inch scratch on the rear bumper where the ice coat had been knocked off.

Later in the day the weather wizards were attributing the massive accidents to a combination of freezing rain, freezing fog, dry snow and blowing winds. Go figure, the had predicted sunny skies and above 40 temps. The temps for the day were in the 20's.

So we had arrived in time for brunch and present presentations. And what did I receive ( ? ? ? )

Mlle Renee being a good little girl always goes to bed early every evening, and not just on Christmas Eve.

So Sandy Paws made it a point to deliver her Christmas a little early this evening. (What the Hell, she's been sniffing out the wardrobe where it was hidden for the past several weeks.)

The pictures tell the whole story. It was her first for real Christmas...










After I took the above photos I left Renee playing with her new toys and went into the office to load the pics onto the computer and write my message to you. When I finished I realized Renee was awfully quiet. I went into the living room and this is what I saw ...



How can you not love that dog?


Merry Christmas To All ...

And To All A Good Night!

And on the seventh day ... the dastardly cold that had been inhabiting his head and inhibiting his life began it's slow retreat!
So now you know why I haven't be around here annoying you for the past week. Well, at least I think it was a cold -- either that or a live Mucinex commercial being produced in my head. So Mlle Renee and I spent most of our days impersonating couch potatoes and eating comfort foods. Yes, fat and lazy would probably apply.

However I did use some of my down time to finally go through my mother's family photo albums and divide the photos between my two brothers. I did retain enough of the photos to make a "memorial tribute" portfolio of my own life and times whenever that should be needed.

Along the way I did select a few of the photos I thought I would share with you for MAD MONDAYS. So when you're ready to venture forth ... ... ( click here. )

Mlle Renee just asked if it is nap time yet.

After five dank, dark dorky days it finally stopped raining and Mlle Renee was able to go out and tippy-toe across the soggy bog of a yard. Tippy-toe until she saw an opossum creeping out of the bushes in the next yard. How dare this bald-tailed trespasser violate her sovereign domain‽ So she began to run along the fence to chase the creature away. The only result to her efforts was to get a few hissing snarls from the creature as it slowly ambled away, and to get herself somewhat muddied.
(She also wanted to chase a skunk that wandered into the yard a few nights ago, but I was able to grab her collar before she got out of the door. Don't know what's bringing out all the wildlife recently. There have even been reports of coyote sightings in the area. And wild peafowl have been roosting on the roof of the local hospital. Could it be that the Ark has sprung a leak?)
There was no way she was coming into the house with all that mud on her, so I got a bucket with some nice warm water and asked her to put her feet in it so I could wash them off. She wasn't to keen about the idea, but she was more than willing to try and lick the soap bubble off of my hands. I finally go her cleaned up and dried off and she went in the house to pout a while.
After supper she apparently forgot about the foot washing indignities and as I sat down to watch Bones she began to parade her toys out of the toy box and bring them one at a time for play time. Each toy has its own purpose. Some toys are for shaking, others for tugging or squeaking or fetching. She even has one chew bone with a rolling rubber ball in the middle. She likes to have this one rubbed up and down her back, sides and belly when she's not chewing on the ends.
She's not really spoiled, it's just our play time -- even though she gets most of the play. ~ ~ Unfortunately, while she knows how to get the toys out of the box and bring them to me, I haven't been able to get her to pick them up and put them back in the box.

Thankfully by the time FRINGE comes on she's worn out and ready for a nap.

SOME PEOPLE JUST LEAD A DOG'S LIFE! I should be one of them!

The one talent I've always wished I had was knowing how to play the piano. Not that I ever wanted to play the piano. No, I had my goals set on something bigger, but being able to play the piano was just the first step. Once I mastered the piano, I would have been able to move on to mastering other keyboard instruments.

Ultimately my talent would have allowed me to perform on my goal the Mighty Wurlitzer in the Wicket City's Fabulous Fox Theater.

THE MIGHTY WURLITZER OF THE FABULOUS FOX The late Stan Kahn at the keyboard.

Unfortunately taking that photo was as close as I ever got to the magnificent white and gold console in the Fox. I did get to play chopsticks on pipe organ in my parish church. I used to sing the Requiem Mass for Saturday funerals. Since I usually was the only one to show up, the organist used to humor me by showing me how to play before the funeral entourage arrived.

That was when I realized I would never achieve my wished for talents. In addition to having short stubby fingers, I also had short stubby legs that never allowed my feet to reach the pedal keys with all the low, rumbling notes. Just as well I guess, since there isn't a real big demand for Mighty Wurlitzer players these days.

In case your local stupidmarket or drug store runs out of those anti-viral masks during the N1H1 flu season, here is an idea for a spare mask that you can make at home yourself.

And it will even work for people who wear glasses.

( N1H1 Flu Mask )

But it's advisable to always keep your spare mask clean!

My very first Veteran's Day as a genuine veteran occurred back in 1969! Yes, Virginia, that was 40-years ago! That's when I received my official discharge papers from the regular army and the army reserve.

I had served my country for two-years stationed in a desolate, god-forsaken foreign land known as Kansas five-years earlier.

( See photo proof )

FLASH FORWARD TO 2009 - Anyway, Mr. Bill who actually served in Vietnam and I decided to celebrate our veteran status by taking part in Applebee's Free Lunch For Veteran's Program. It was a pretty good burger, and we left our waitress a tip comparable to what two burgers would have cost.

After that we fought our way across the parking lot to Sam's Club where I was able to restock my larder with cod fillets packed in the U.S. and Genoa salami and cheese.
I also saw this must item for Miz Becky and the Project Runway crew ... ... just look at all the neat stuff ... fabrics, findings, and mannikins! And just only $30!

After that, I headed home to take Mlle Renee for her afternoon inspection tour of the neighborhood.

I've always associated October in the Wicket City as being the time of our an Indian Summer. Technically Indian Summer is the period of warm and sunny weather following the first fall frost when all the trees are showing their finest coats of reds and golds.
Well, we had the frost early in October, but the rest of the month was the coldest, wettest October in local meteorological history. And as for colorful leaves ... most of them were knocked to the ground by never-ending rains before they could reflect the rays of the sun.
Even Mlle Renee became totally rain depressed ...

And to the relief of all our rain delayed Indian Summer finally showed up to start the second week of November with clear sunny skies and temps nearing 80F that tempted many to drag out the shorts of summer.
Unfortunately, while I joined the throngs heading into Forest Park on Saturday morning, I parted with them and the enjoyment of sunny skies to head inside the Art Museum for my regular appointment with the High Def Met Opera Performance.

I did pause to check out some new additions to the Grand Hall of the museum ...
... before heading down to the museum's theater. And while waiting in line to enter the theater I looked up at the Dale Chihuly chandelier overhead.
Not only did it capture the reds and golds of the Indian Summer outside, but it also foreshadowed the twisted tale of the Chinese Princess Turandot I was about to see.
Puccini's Turandot as staged by Franco Zeffirelli is one few remaining operas in the Met repertory that puts the GRAND in the term grand opera. It has everything ... spectacular settings, massed choruses and soaring solos. It was a dazzling production that was spectacularly captured by the live high definition television cameras -- especially with the overhead views taken from the new remote overhead cameras.
It was a Saturday afternoon well spent!

And there was still time to enjoy the glorious afternoon in the park when I went outside.




How's that for capturing Seurat?

Perhaps you might have noticed my disappearance from these pages for the past couple of weeks. I was more than willing to communicate, but unfortunately the internet was unavailable whenever I was available. And like most of the stories of my life, it was strange to say the least. It all started on Friday afternoon two weeks ago when I was attempting to add an unusually witty anecdote to my journal. When suddenly my computer told me I was not connected to the internet. With Disabled Cable you expected this to happen periodically. It usually reconnects in a few minutes. After 15-minutes had past I check the phone and TV and discover they were also inoperable. So I called the Disabled Cable service hotline ... HOTLINE typed with raucous laughter ... and was connected with the automated Let me help you solve your service problem. machine. A thousand curses on the wretched humans or unhumans that invented the technology that replaced inept live human service people with these totally inept machines that think they can have an intelligent conversation with you while implying you are a total dolt. After shouting I WANT TO TALK TO A REAL PERSON a dozen of so times, the machine finally said, "Apparently you would like to speak to a live support person."

At last! Unfortunately the Disabled Cable support staff is housed in an underground bunker somewhere in the middle of Utah and have no idea where Saint Louis is even located. I say this because the support staffer was happy to inform me that there was a service outage in the Little Rock area. After explaining that Saint Louis is in Missouri and not Arkansas he rechecked and discovered that there also was a service outage in my area. And it was an outage that should be corrected in an hour or so.

I called back at 11 p.m. and discover that there now was three outages in my area, but they should be corrected in an hour or so.

Saturday afternoon I checked the phone, TV and computer and found they were still lacking computer support. With dread I called the service hotline, and was told that they were aware of the outage and expected it to be corrected shortly.

Sunday afternoon everything was still inoperable, but instead of trying to call the hotline I went outside to do some winter-prep yard work.
That's when I discovered ...

Yes, it was the line that connects the cable to the house and apparently it had been severed by the fangs of some gigantic squirrel that was running along the wires that carry the cable service into the basement. Or that was what a totally innocent Mlle Renee tried to explain.

Well, after discovering I had a dog that had eaten the cable line I realized that I then had to eat crow and call the cable company. By this time I discovered that my number was automatically by-passing the automated service machine and sending me direct to a human. He didn't scold me or Mlle Renee and said because the phone service was out he would schedule for a RUSH service call ... which wouldn't be until Wednesday.

The repairman showed up on Wednesday reconnect the cable and also replaced my internet modem which was about ten years out of date although I've only had it for three years. He also discovered that there was a problem on the main line that would have to be repaired by a lineman that might cause me some minor problems with the internet connection. Minor problems like loosing a connection every couple of minutes. But I had TV and phone with no problem.

Finally last week everything went out again and I again called the Hotline and they sent out a new repairman. He ran a meter along all the wires and connections in the house and discovered that the man who had original installed the cable connection had bent the cable line while pushing it through a hole. He also mentioned that the lineman had discovered about a dozen breaks in the main line so far and that I should expect a momentary outage each time he corrects one.

Oh well I guess I could limit my internet use to late night -- but unfortunately Mlle Renee is now having a hard time adjusting from Central Daylight to Central Standard time and she keep waking me up at an ungodly predawn time each morning which means I've had to go to bed earlier each night. And after I fenced off the area around the cable connection. What did I do to get all this bad karma?

There was one good aspect about the cable outage. I was able to catch up with some reading ... starting with the fifth mystery adventure of Chanse MacLeod.

A GREAT MYSTERY READ Murder In The Garden District by Greg Herren Published by Alyson Books October 2009

This time Greg has created a triple threat thriller for our hero. It starts with the murder of a powerful Louisiana politician with too many possible suspects. Then New Orleans is faced with the possibility of yet another deadly hurricane. And finally, someone is trying to eliminate Chanse himself and possible his friends. If you're looking for a well written masterful mystery that will keep you guessing while turning the pages, give this one a try! Highly recommended.

If Charles Dickens were alive today,
He would be rolling over in his grave!

Recently, my curmudgeon's ire was aroused by the Disney Company's audacity to call their holiday 3-D IMAX release DISNEY'S A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Humbug! If it wasn't for Charles Dickens there wouldn't be an A Christmas Carol to pour the bucks into their Scrooge-like coffers.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL By Charles Dickens (1843 original edition)

A Christmas Carol was a story with a moral. Dickens wrote it for a reason, and while it might have made him famous -- it sure didn't make him rich.

Just watching the trailers for the new live capture animated film on TV with Tim Carrey's Scrooge slapstick flight through the air, rocketing through a row of icicles is just as shocking as witnessing the ghosts of Christmas Future.

I prefer the original tale ... ... OK, I'll admit it Dickens' A CHRISTMAS CAROL is the only Dickens' book I ever finished reading.

It was also the tale I listened to on the radio every year with Lionel Barrymore as a kid.

And though it's a fact that A Christmas Carol is probably the most adapted literary work ever, it's my opinion that the best adaptation was the 1951 film version with Alastair Sim as Ebenezer Scrooge. ~ Now that was a film that delivered a moral! And with pretty damn good acting, too!

But then, like Scrooge, I'm a curmudgeon with a heart. I don't need the latest technical magic to appreciate a good Christmas ghost story. Black and white will do nicely, as long as it leaves me choked up, misty-eyed and feeling the Spirit of Christmas in my heart.
~ "God Bless Us, Every One."
And the ultimate version of Alastair Sim's Scrooge is still available on DVD with both black and white and color-tinted versions for those who need their tale told in color.

I was advised by my housemate that I had made a slight omission in the post I made earlier today. She says that although I talked about her, and actually put words in her mouth that she would never use, I failed to add any new pictures of her.

So I'm now making amends. Here's Mlle Renee in her new look ...


She's always had a reddish cast to her coat. But as her winter coat starts to come in, it's coming in quite darker almost black. You can see the black hairs coming in on her ears. The same goes for her shoulders, back and tail. She's now a year and a half old and I suppose her German Shepherd ancestry is showing.

She also discovered a new toy. Finally after three years I got around to cleaning out the last drawer in my mother's dresser. I was sorting out the PJs and such as to what I could donate to those in need and what I should just pitch, when I dropped the pair of her goldfish and kittens socks on the floor.
These were the socks mom wore to bed in the winter to keep her toes warm. Before I could pick them up Renee claimed them as hers and carried them off to her sleeping spot.

She also took them out into the yard this afternoon to play catch and shake'em with them.


Guess I'll let her keep them ... maybe she's trying to tell me her feet are getting cold at night.

Well today is the big birthday for Glenn hypertwink. It's now or never time ... your last chance to start lying about your age. Because if you start next year, everyone will know you're lying!


Do have a happy day! And T.G. they got rid of the lawyers on the Amazing Race before they killed one another. Unfortunately, now we don't have anyone to dislike.

Thanks to the inability of my ISP (Charter) to maintain an internet connection for more than 30-seconds yesterday, my Mad Monday is coming to you on a Tuesday today.

Well, yesterday morning dawned bright and sunny and when I let Mlle Renee out to do her morning toilette, she came running back to me shouting, "THE SKY IS FALLING‽ THE SKY IS FALLING‽"

I tried to explain to her that it was just Mother Nature cleaning out her trees and throwing away the old leaves she didn't want anymore.

And she looked at me out of the white of her eye and said, "Bullshit, next you'll be trying to tell be that puppies grow on Dogwood Trees. Don't you realize that bitch is littering up my playground with these dumb leaves?"

Mlle Renee really doesn't mince her words. I guess you could say, "She talks like an old salty dog." Everybody pause to groan. Any she then began to run around trying to catch the leaves before they could touch the ground. Since we live in a very heavily treed area, her efforts were futile. We did try to see how many different trees in the area were littering the yard.

How many tree droppings can you identify?





You might notice that some of the trees are shedding before the leaves have a chance to turn color. This is due to the heavy rain and wind we've had for the past several weeks.

Now the real fun comes tomorrow when I get out the blower tomorrow to herd the leaves back to the compost piles before the rain starts again.