Scrabble Comeback

I got a Scrabble rematch from Mama tonight. She and Bel both buried me a couple of nights ago, but I had a better go of it this time. Note: we caught the misspelling of "premiers" many moves after it was put down. It went from my "prim" to Mama's "primier", at which point I was focused on the end of the word, not the middle, because I had my eye on dropping "sire" down from its end.

Originally posted at Scrabble Comeback

Isabel Talks

My sister posted the first entries on her blog at http://www.isabeltalks.com/.

Originally posted at Isabel Talks

Uncle Harty, Altar Boy

We held a memorial service today for my father, followed by mass at Blessed Sacrament Church. One part of the mass will stand out for me above everything else that has happened over the past mash of days. It involves my uncle and aunt, both of whom were raised in their fully Catholic family with my father: Before we precessed, and in earshot of Father Gaspar, my 78-year-old Uncle Harty started to tell a story of his own altar-boy days to one of the eighth-graders serving at today's mass. I don't know if he finished the story before we began our walk in, but the priest heard enough of Uncle Harty's childhood mischief that he was on guard. And less than one minute into the mass — interrupting the opening prayer — the priest walked up to my snickering uncle in the front pew and told him to show respect in the church. Uncle Harty pulled himself together in his best just-been-yelled-at way, and the priest walked back up to the altar. "Well, he didn't even let me get five minutes in," my uncle grumbled to those around us, most of whom were fighting off contagious giggles. But what nearly sent me out of the church in wailing laughter was the comment from my 70-year-old Aunt Marcie, who thought she was speaking quietly enough for no one to hear: "He better watch out; we might come up there and kick his ass."

Originally posted at Uncle Harty, Altar Boy

James Pinckney Keating

My father, James Pinckney Keating: April 15, 1927, to March 13, 2008.

Originally posted at James Pinckney Keating

Dear Megan

Savannah April 11, 2007 Well, Megan, You finally convinced me that I should be better about writing back to you. Not much is going on here in Savannah, so instead I will tell you what Bravo did Monday morning: I took them (Reggie, Dekker, Bravo, Linus, Etta) out hiking Monday morning all by myself while Kaelyn was off hiking/camping/back-packing with Jeff, Robin, and Jonathan. Nothing weird happened on the trip with the dogs, but that changed quickly when I got home. I had all of the dogs in the truck, with Bravo in back and everyone else in the cab with me. I pulled into the driveway, got out the driver’s side door, and walked around the back of the truck to let Bravo out. Usually the dogs wait until the tailgate is down to jump out, but this time Bravo jumped over the tailgate as soon as I had the hatch open. I hoped, even though I knew it to be hopeless, that he was in a hurry to get to the front door before anyone else so he could be the first one in. But of course it would not be that simple. Instead, he blasted out after a cat that escaped my notice in the bushes in front of the porch. The cat made it all of the way to Sonia’s house (the one with Cameron and Austin) before Bravo caught it. And once he caught it, there was no letting go. The cat, knowing its life to be imminently at risk, fought back furiously, clamping its nasty cat teeth into Bravo’s upper left lip. The two of them were so death-gripped to each other that no amount of work at Bravo’s rear end (the only end I dared to get near) could shake the two of them apart. Eventually Ceci (Kaelyn’s sister who was staying over while Kaelyn was away) got a hose turned on the two of them, so they finally let go of each other. The cat, to my amazement, was then able to scoot away and run under Sonia’s house. I was pretty sure it was going to die under there in the next hour because it had lost a lot of blood, and I also think Bravo hurt some of its bones. Ceci and I then took Bravo to the vet to have his wounds looked at, and now, $220 later, he is back home, on antibiotics and with a swollen lip. So how hard has it been to read my writing in this letter? Was it worth it? If not, let me know, and I will stop writing. :-) J/K Other than that issue with Bravo, all is well here. Take care. I hope no more of your track meets get snowed out! Love, Uncle Michael PS: I took a quick look under Sonia's house after I got home, and the cat seems to have made it out OK.

Originally posted at Dear Megan