Etc.

• This morning I woke up and went outside with the dogs, and it was so nice out that I decided to finally mow the grass--I've been planning to do it for days, but it's been hottish and I haven't wanted to. So I mowed the grass and swept the porch (and cleared out the area under the huge magnolia tree, because goddamn but magnolias are messy trees), feeling disgustingly virtuous the whole time, and during the sweeping discovered three things: (1) that there is a wasp nest somewhere on my porch and I CANNOT SEEM TO FIND IT; (2) that that flowerpot on that little mosaic table is apparently serving as some sort of secret junebug burial ground, and (3) ( this )
  , which was sitting on the door mat. Does anyone know what this thing is? I have to admit that my first thought was that it was a lock-pick of some sort, and OMG SOMEONE MUST HAVE BEEN TRYING TO BREAK INTO MY HOUSE, but there is probably some less harrowing explanation. But what if it is a lock-pick? I wonder what happened? Did Leory bark and chase them off? I didn't hear anything, and I usually wake pretty easily, but I was so tired last night that I doubt I would've been awakened by a barking dog.
  
  Anyway, if someone can identify it, let me know.



• While I was following the mower in dreamy, ever-decreasing squares (I find this pattern very soothing, for some reason), I suddenly remembered a House of Genuises in Baton Rouge who lived near our house while I was in college. This house was built on a huge lot, and the owners just had a self-propelled push mower rather than a riding one. The House of Geniuses solution to this problem was to tie the mower to one of a series of tall stakes in the yard, and start the engine. The mower would take off, sloowly wrapping itself around the stake as it moved in an inward spiral, and then, a huge crop-circle of lawn segment mown, someone would come out and tie it to the next stake, and so on, and then at the end, someone would come out and cut the bits that had been missed. I drove by this house a lot, since it was on the Main Route to Everything, and every time I drove past and that mower was making its lazy circles, I would feel this unspeakable delight, and I very much wish I had the sort of lawn where duplicating this setup would be practical. Except, of course, that my mower isn't self-propelled, which might put some sort of monkey wrench into the works.



• Oh, I am so horribly hungry for Indian food right now. I'm thinking droolingly of a hot-hot chicken tikka masala and wishing I could justify spending the money; the restaurant's not expensive, but it is a proper restaurant, and I've forsworn those for now. And I'm also thinking of another restaurant, next door to the campus bookstore where I worked years ago. (Stop me if you've heard this before; I seem to remember talking about it in another entry, but I might be dreaming this.) Anyway, it was a chicken finger restaurant owned by an Indian family who called it Motherclucker's. Their specialty was, at first, a dish called The Finger, but one day, I guess just for kicks, they decided to feature an Indian dish as an off-menu special, and it was such a huge hit that soon there was a special each day of the week, and you got one of those little styrofoam containers of food for less than five dollars, and I ate there about three times a week, and I am missing that restaurant tonight.



• I was complaining to my mother about having to brush Flannery, who doesn't like being brushed and struggles away whenever I try, and my mother gave me one of those grooming gloves and told me to try it and see if Flan did better with it. She does, too. She's indifferent to it, but she'll stand still for it, and that's what I wanted. Now, the other pets are a different story. Every one of them is so into it that I'm calling it The Fetish Glove, because my god, I only have to get it out and they are flocking around me as though I've got cheese or bacon to give them. This Glove Has Changed Our Lives.



• And remember Snape in the Study with the Giant Hatpin? Well. While I was pulling the photo of the aforementioned Thingie off my camera, I realized that I'd forgot to mention that recently ( Miss Austen had her revenge-- )
  I especially like that at this angle, that quill pen totally looks like a wicked, if slightly wavery, knife.



• This post has many Capitalized Words, doesn't it? I'm Sorry for That.