• I Did Do It – New York Times

    Maureen Dowd, putting a few words in Clarence’s mouth…

    I Did Do It – New York Times:

    Because Poppy Bush put me on the Supreme Court after I’d been a judge for only a year, I’ll always wonder if I got the job just because of my race. I want to spare other blacks that kind of worry. That’s why I pulled the ladder up after myself — so that my brothers and sisters would have the peace of mind that comes with self-reliance.

  • Ouch

    It occurs to me that water is somewhat unique, in that gives and sustains life; but also can bring tragedy and death. I don’t want to play up this entry too much. This pales in comparison to the large scale disasters flood waters have brought to many parts of the world. I just seems that I take water for granted… that I only notice it when it’s jumped the tracks, loosed from it’s shackles and running amok.

    This morning I saw a little bit of stray water, but it wasn’t the amount that gave me pause… it was it’s location.

    I’ve determined that it’s coming from a leaking drain in the bathtub.

    So now I’m looking at tearing out the tub, possibly replacing it while it’s out (it’s started to rust), and re-tiling the stall. The only thing I want to do less than tear out a tub and tile the stall, is pay someone else to tear out the tub and tile the stall.

    On top of that my trusty digital camera, the one that’s served me faithfully since 2001, suddenly stopped focusing. With a couple kids in the house, I simply CAN NOT go with out a camera for any period of time. But…

    On top of that, we’re coming off a kitchen disaster. The other day we discovered that Adam knows how to change the temperature settings on the refrigerator/freezer. We discovered this the hard way, after Adam set them both to “warm,” and learned this is an apt description. Two hundred dollars of groceries got thrown away.

    I shouldn’t complain. Cheryl and I make enough money to live, and I try to keep my needs and wants modest. Yet this has been one of those weeks when I wished I made a little bit more money.

  • Please. No more cake.

    Today we backtracked, doing my dad’s and Cheryl’s dad’s birthdays a couple days late. We opened presents… again. We had cake… again. We sang that song, off key… again.

    We’re not really done yet. We’ve still got my mother and a sister to go; but with Christy in Indy and my mother six hours away, there won’t be any more parties. It’s just as well. Right now I’m pretty sick of cake. I love sweets, and I’ve got the waistline to prove it. But even I get a little tired of cake after six in three weeks.