Itzoe.net

I've finally gotten the site to the point where I can add and edit posts without having to do so directly in the database. What a pain that is. And now that I have the ability, maybe I'll finally get around to writing about our trip to Nashville. But not today. Today is all about White Steamer.

I feel even more behind than usual. Not so much because I haven't posted anything for a couple weeks but because I've actually had things to post and never got around to it. To make up for lost time, I'll start with something a little older: our hiking adventure.

Okay, we don't really live in the ghetto, per se, but it's about as close as one gets in this part of the state. Having said that, one of the few perks is the sheer entertainment value our less-than-educated denizens provide. Living on the corner next to a major thoroughfare means we're privy to a high degree of police activity. The accompanying picture is the best of series of photos I took of a car pulled over Friday night, it's occupants patted down, but eventually sent on their way.

Okay, this didn't turn out like I thought it would. Frankly, the picture is crap, and it's the best one I could get. Turns out my new camera phone is less than stellar when it comes to close-ups. So what looks like a mosquito bite is actually a marinara burn.

I've written before about how much my brother and I enjoy a good Chinese buffet (good being relative, of course). Sometimes we take the kids, and sometimes the eldest tries a little something, um, less-than-American, while the other sticks to lemon wedges and soft-serve ice cream. Meanwhile, the missus wouldn't be caught dead at a Chinese buffet, which is fine, but in the past until my brother moved to town it always meant the only time I'd get Chinese is if going with co-workers at lunch. Myself excluded, the family has never been big on Far East cuisine. So it was with anticipation but some trepidation that the missus (yes, not I, but the missus) decided we were taking the eldest to a Japanese restaurant for his birthday.

Having failed up til now to document our mouse-catching escapades, it's with great, if morbid, pleasure I present photographic evidence of our most recent quarry.

Admittedly, there was a brief time we thought maybe the dog was going insane. It was slightly reminiscent of that Far Side comic where one dog says to the other, while the owner, blissfully unaware, reads the paper: "Watch... Growling and bristling, I'll stare at the closet door."

So once again time goes by and next thing I know it's been a couple weeks since my last post. And there have been plenty of things I could have written about: the election, the cut on my foot, my mother-in-law, our movie marathon weekend (well, I might still... but I doubt it).

I would've posted a photo sooner of this year's pumpkin, but we didn't get around to carving until last night. I know, that's like not trimming the tree until Christmas Eve, but hey, according to movies of the Victorian era, that's when they did it anyway. And it's not so much a waste if the display sticks around several weeks past its freshness date.

I was at emergency room for the second time in a week this weekend. Now that I have your attention, it's actually all pretty much mundane. On the plus side, the second time around I knew I wanted to hit that coffee machine with the French vanilla.