Arkansas Blog

Georgia is Little Rock's own by way of Australia, but we should claim her wholeheartedly.

Here's what Frenchie and I did late last night, someone took a video.
Click to see how good we are ................

"The Lewinsky." Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmmm. Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmm.

Gay scientists isolate Christianity gene. Working on cure.

click blue name.

Lordy jazzy....if you did that last night how can you reach the keys this morning? I gots Baptist legs and they cain't dance. Ma was a jitterbug princess in her day, her only requirement in a man was big time dancing ability....I can't imagine my dad dancing....but he must of been able to cut a rug in his time. Except for Hitler and war and no air-conditioning...the 40s must have been a great time to be alive! I bet John McCain made quite an impression in his Zoot suit back then.

We had too much Mexican food last night and then I spent the rest of the evening reading the unpublished reminiscence of a long dead old feller who grew up in Fort Baptist in the 1890s. I swear they had more fun a hundred years ago than we do today. He wrote about watching the men drill so they could go off to the Spanish-American War and he talked about some big political event on the 4th of July where they barbecued whose sides of beef over long trenches full of hot coals that were dug in the ground. Some old Arkansas Senator spoke so long and hard the meat was cold before he got finished. Made me think of Mark Pryor......turning slowly over hot coals while firecrackers go off in the background........

I'll bet Ma was a jitterbugger, like me. My g'ma used to tell me my long legs were gonna get
wound up and I wouldn't ever be able to stop!!! Heck, I could go tonight but I don't think
dancin is allowed, in Ark, on sunday.
You reminded me of an uncle....I was a very little girl,,,every 4th July he had a pit dug in
their back yard, full of hickory logs, some kind of metal grill over the wood, and beef, pork,
ribs, smoking on that open grill.....bathtubs of iced beer and lots of people having a grand
ole time.
That uncle loved me till I found a paint brush, can of red paint and painted all his priceless
hunting dogs a bright red.

That's funny, jazzy, in 1959 on the banks of Kentucky Lake I found a red can of enamel barn paint and painted my boxer puppy and little yeller cat top to bottom. The puppy looked pretty good, but all that long hair on the kitten stood out stiff as a board for months.

And whose sez lead paint will kill ya? Don't know what happened to the cat but the boxer lived to be 11 years old and had an IQ 57 points higher than our current President. Bless his old heart....wish there was a dog heaven....he'd be in it for sure.

Ahhhhhh, Ky Lake again,,,,,I told you I lived in Benton and Glasgow and spent many a lazy
day on that beautiful man made lake. Winter between my 14 & 15 b'day was one of deep
snow, had more fun sledding and skating *with the boys,* our school had a top BB team and
gym was always packed on friday nights.
Poor doggies, hope we didn't kill them. My uncle told me, years later, as soon as he saw
his RED dogs he knew who did it. After I was grown, with 2 babies, this same uncle dropped
dead of a massive heart attack, in same back yard, going to feed his dogs.
He was a fun, big hearted guy.