Two annotations down, one to go. I spent the better part of the day with Donald Justice, and feel like I have a pretty good handle on how he’s using repetition for both stasis and motion in “Psalm and Lament.” I have Tuesday off from work, so Weldon Kees is up next. I won’t be working on the essay at all tomorrow, because I’ll be in South Carolina for Granny’s 90th birthday. But, just in case, I’ll have Poetic Closure in the car with me. Just in case.

Have a wonderful day, Internet friends. I’ll see you on the flipside.

Ladybug and I have returned from Dillard’s BBQ, which I am now ready to label the best barbq in Durham. We’ve lived about a mile and a quarter from Dillard’s for six years and only just figured out where it is. Is that ridiculous? Yes. I’m going to tell myself that during that time, they must have suffered some odd decline in quality and the fates just kept us away from there so that when they recovered, the winds would usher us that way. The carrot souffle was the best dessert I have ever tasted. There’s no hyperbole here; I am known for not liking desserts. But this one is amazing.

Of course, now I am at home, bulbous in front of the keyboard, aching with food, though not at all regretful. It’s just that a meal like that keeps you from doing much else for the rest of the night, and I’d hoped to accomplish something more than “not much else.”

I have found someone who is willing to swap an extra copy of Ivy Alvarez’s tinyside for some Bull City Press swag.

Come to me, my precious.

Belinda was kind enough to provide me with a fine topical steroid for my poison ivy.  I feel that the steroids are working just fine, though Ladybug said that perhaps I have used too much of this creme.  I didn’t know what she was talking about, so I punched her in the face and tore her car in half with my hands.

Does anyone want to come over and pop the annoying zits on my back?  These things are HUGE.

We’re spending the day watching Six Feet Under, season five. We’re watching at a furious rate– furious! We could be done tomorrow. That’s a lot of Six Feet Under. To make myself feel just a wee bit productive, I made some black bean chili, ZoneAlarm, made a new banner for the site, and read PCWorld. OK, so I know that’s not terrible productive. I have the rest of the weekend to produce.

During a break in the DVD action, Miss ladybug slipped on some sandlas and we went out back to throw a baseball. God, that felt great. I hadn’t thrown a baseball in a long time. I was having great fun, and Ladybug even seemed to think that it wasn’t so bad. That is, until I threw one low and nailed her on the foot. Within seconds, the blood vessel was all puffed up and the foot looked like it was gonna have the worst bruise EVER. Got some ice on it, though, and she may keep the foot.

Speaking of baseball, Jeff Francoeur seems to be breaking out. Two homers last night, another one tonight. Hells yeah. I’m just bummed that I benched him in fantasy baseball two days ago.

Weekend with family! JOhn’s 70th birthday celebration continued with phamily photos aplenty Saturday night. To ensure maximum cultishness, we all had to wear white shirts. Then, dinner at Spice Street, in the vaguely removed wine room, where we snacked on bready sweets and tiny bits of chicken. Then we hung around and told funny John stories, which morphed into funny Chris Pearson stories.

Foolishly, I didn’t take a camera, but I did snap a couple with the camera phone this morning. They’re on flickr if you want to take a look at all of them, Here’s a couple:

Here’s my Ladybug by the fireplace, and my uncle Doug hanging out.

My aunt Judy, and Frank and Anne. You can’t see Nicki and Ian’s daughter Charlotte in Anne’s lap, but she’s there.

Kirk is heading for my lap, which means he’ll soon have paws all over the keyboard. Goodbye.

As a cat person, I have several times vacuumed the house and had a whole new cat by the end– Miss Kitty particularly could shed her weight in fur about every 36 hours. I really did have 5 pounds of cat hair after steam-cleaning the carpets in the old house when Chris moved out.

So, I expect to see a lot of fur when vacuuming. However, while vacuuming the bedroom today, the vacuum sputtered a little bit and began to smell like burning ass. Alarmed, I switched it off and turned it over to see what could possibly be stuck in there. And sure enough, there was a massive clump of hair preventing the vacuum from spinning. But as I pulled and tugged, it turned out to be human hair. It turns out that over time, my wife sheds her weight in hair, as well! And it’s long enough and strong enough to mangle a Bissell!

Kirk and Boomer stayed up all night playing a new game that they have invented, which is a mix between “Tag” and “Wake the Humans.” Finally, at 5 AM, I plucked Kirk from the middle of a bite/lick/grapple-fest and took him downstairs with me, locking him in the guest room where I tried to sleep over his incessant begging to be returned to this wonder-game. This effectively separated the house along gender lines, with the ladies in the master bedroom upstairs (where I am told Boomer immediately got in the bed and went to sleep), and the boys in the guest bedroom downstairs. That’s how we roll at the White House: along gender lines. This makes it very difficult when an important vote comes up about women’s rights– we almost always tie, and sometimes they win when Kirk realizes who does the feeding. I’m all for women’s rights in general, but in the White House, “women’s rights” almost always means Ladybug has the right to make me vacuum or take out the trash and I have no right to protest.

Thus, I was tired and grumpy this morning, and if one can be said to be having a bad day before 8:05 AM, I would feel strongly that I qualify.

While we were in Denver, we went to the Celestial Seasonings tea factory. It was Halloween, so lots of people were dressed up. Two of the women on the tour with us were dressed, one as Beeker. Best Halloween costume ever.

They make you wear hairnets. Heh.

My dad took this picture of Taylor, which I really like, since I think it captures a certain essence of growing up.

We are home safely from Denver, the cats are thrilled to see us, my inbox is full of spam, my sister has been married of to a hell of a guy, and all seems right with the world.