That 25 Things About Me Thing

I cannot imagine that people really want to read 25 random odd things about me, so why would they think I'd want to read 25 random odd things about them? Apparently, however, judging by the ones that get sent to me (yet another aspect of Facebook that I could do without), all my relatives who don't bother to try to see me when we go home to Louisiana are suddenly eager to know whether my favorite color is blue or green and whether I like Tabasco Sauce on scrambled eggs. Go figure.

I will confess, however, to a secret vice. I love costumes. There's something wonderful about being able to pretend to be someone else for a little while. I don't have any costumes (I wish I did), but with Shakespeare's birthday coming up, and many people in the department taking on Shakespearean roles (thanks to Christine Persak's incredible talent with needle and thread), I've suddenly developed a hankering to wear Renaissance clothing. Alas, most people probably look at me and think not of Juliet or Ophelia but of Juliet's nurse.

We had fun shopping yesterday. Well, I ought to speak only of myself. My husband endured shopping with me yesterday, poor man. I exchanged a belt at Coldwater Creek and got some sale-priced blouses and earrings. We bought a discounted hall tree at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. We spent $302 on groceries at Meijer. The day was probably wasted, as far as he was concerned, until we curled up on the sofa for our golf nap. Then I actually cooked supper, something I haven't done for a while. Oh, I forgot: my husband did make one purchase. He got a new kitty-litter pan at the pet supply store. It's our third mechanized one. Apparently Simon's hair tears up vacuum cleaners, and his poop destroys mechanized kitty-litter pans. Hard to believe such a sweet kitty could cost so much. But we are agreed that if we ever get another cat, it's going to be a short-haired one. They had a superfat yellow tabby up for adoption yesterday, but we've agreed that no more cats will enter our home until Simon has lived out a long and much-pampered life.

Lately Simon has had great fun watching the Canadian geese and the various duck species that come to the pond. The geese are especially interesting to him because they announce their approach with loud frenetic honking. Majestically they sail toward the pond surface, wings positioned for a glide-in water landing, and with barely a ripple, they are suddenly sailing about the pond like little sail boats. Alas, they do not sound like sail boats. The honking is nonstop for a while.

The ducks are mating. Poor lady duck has to get half-drowned before she's allowed to come up for air. Male ducks must be able to slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am, else they'd kill off all their lady lovers. At least we human females don't have to be half-drowned in order to enjoy connubial bliss, but then, ducks never have to dance backwards wearing high heels, either. (Except for Daisy Duck, but then, she's a special case.)


It's another beautiful day. The forsythia are continuing to bud, and the lilacs are on the verge. The new birch in our backyard still looks lifeless, but they seem to be a late-budding species. Thank goodness there are no tornadoes. Mena, Arkansas, which is south of where my older son lives, was devastated this past week. I do worry about the conditions in that area: ice storms and tornadoes may or may not be a fair trade for nine months of winter.