You're Welcome

Just doing my part to keep 'yall cool.

Back

Ever notice the trip home seems to have an extra 100 miles added in? It's a weird highway telescoping effect. Very Dr. Who, but not nearly as entertaining.

St. Louis is home, however, and I love that hot and humid city very much.

I was able to spend time with Tip and his adoptive mother in their new apartment. You remember Tip -- bad hairdo, bobbly head, fireplace soot on his shoulder blades.

This eating machine has hit the lottery, living with AJ. No more brothers to get between him and his Fancy Feast (which she warms up in the microwave.) Kibble on demand. Non-stop pats.

He is extraordinarily affectionate, a champeen purrer and indefatigable when it comes to exploring the fireplace. (Warning: Washing cats is neither easy nor advised.)

We eventually found enough safety pins to close the screen so he will be spared future scrub downs with Dawn dish soap.

When we weren't fussing over Tip, we were out and about in the city.

There is something about the architecture of St. Louis. I find it endlessly fascinating.

The red brick, the slate roofs, the Madeline-like qualities of the city neighborhoods. Love 'em.

Loved this also. A lot.

I think this guy was feeling the heat.

This whole corner in the Cherokee neighborhood was definitely going for a Reggae vibe.

Across the street from the fire hydrant is a wonderful antique store, R. Ege Antiques. Colored pencils from France that are two feet long are for sale, and just as soon as I find 850 dollars, I'm taking them home with me.

Hope you have a cool place to tuck into this week. Chicago, I hear, may be even hotter than St. Louis in the coming days. And that, my friends, is some kind of hot.

Le 14 Juillet

Tomorrow, I am off to St. Louie, Louie, and I haven't time to post anything of great note.

However, tomorrow is Bastille Day, and I expect each of you to leave me an insanely detailed comment about your decorations, menu, wine selections, couture, sound track and assorted je ne sais quoi.

How exactly will you storm the gates this July 14th?

Allons enfants!

But first, a little inspiration:
 

July 3, 1951

Dad and my brothers no doubt thinking about Bastille Day.

(Mom wondering how to operate Brownie camera.)

May 2010

The city of Nice rocks the Tricouleur 59 years later.



Remember "Ou est la bibliotheque?" from French class?

Happy to report that I found it in Antibes.

You're welcome.

Baff

Sorry to say, the slumping economy has affected the size of swimming pools.

The long- and short-range for cute, however, is at an all-time sizzle with an overall optimistic outcome.

Or something to that effect.

I got a 70.2 percent in Econ 51 and understood nothing, including those stupid widgets, for an entire semester.

Don't get me started with new math.*

*(per Wikipedia: New Math was a brief, dramatic change in the way mathematics was taught in American grade schools, and to a lesser extent in European countries, during the 1960s. The name is commonly given to a set of teaching practices introduced in the U.S. shortly after the Sputnik crisis in order to boost science education and mathematical skill in the population so that the intellectual threat of Soviet engineers, reputedly highly skilled mathematicians, could be met.)

So it all goes back to those Russians.

Total conspiracy.

Remember, you read it here first.

So Proud

I'll admit it: I have no shame.

Got this little gem from my friend and blogger Kaki and had to share.

With thanks to the unknown graphic artist who created this.

Name That Cat

Our daughter, AJ, moved into a new apartment in St. Louis last week.

All that was missing was a roommate.

PetSmart was having adoption day across the street.

She is now the owner of a 6-year-old cat with a neurological deficit. (They're called bobbleheads because of balance issues.)

Shiloh is his current name. I suggested Kitty. Or Carmel Crisco Wilbur, which is what my brother's first grade class named their hamster.

 AJ suggested the faithful readers of this blog name him. So I want all 41 of you (Connie can vote twice) to leave a name in the Comments section.

Actually, this being Chicago,  all of you may vote as often as you wish.

(He had to be shaved down due to fur issues. In six months, he will be quite poofy.)



The 4th

What is it about fireworks and marshmallows?

And flags, of course.

And Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture (even though it's about Russia and France and not us whoopin' the Brits in the War of 1812. Wiki can be very handy. Just saying.)

And hydrangeas bursting in fullness.

And our friends Dave and Karen in from Middletown, Ohio, for a wedding in Barrington. (The Sancerre 2008 is fabulous. Thank you.)

And sweet corn for 22 cents an ear.

And cats with new homes.

And barbequed chicken. And salmon. And steak. (Possibly all three.)

And karaoke at the neighbors' house.

And for our dog's inability to hear M80s bursting in air.

And yellow finches diving into the fountain and playing tag in the trees.

And abundant sunlight and negligible humidity.

And babies due in precisely 30 days.

And flags at every mailbox in the neighborhood.

And the freedom to do it and see it.

And write about it.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone.