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Leaving the beach, we stopped in Bay St. Louis (the Land of a Thousand Chiggers) for Peg's birthday-last-sunday-of-jazzfest-too-crowded-to-go party.
Kerry was showing some of us her new BMW racing car. We admired the rollbar on the inside and the complicated seat belts that look like parachute straps. Unfamiliar with racecar protocol, we forgot to ask to see the engine, but she proudly showed it to us. A big metal bar keeps the engine from flying out when it's doing a corner at a zillion mph. Hmmm. Owning a racecar. I've scanned through my world view and cannot locate the concept.
In search of a book of poetry by an author recommended by two nice grad students that I met at Dave Cash's Monday night red beans and rice thing, I happened upon Andrew Boyd's Po-Mo To Go book which I've discovered that people don't like to have read to them at dinner, and thought maybe I needed these flashing randomly on my desktop and maybe you do too, although what I'd really like is to make a Better Fortune Cookie with one of these inside and the world would beat a path to my door but of course I'd be gone by then.
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One of the best parts of vacation was beach time in Gulf Shores with my family. Sisters galore. The beach is like vacation from your vacation. I like the groves of pecan trees on the drive in and the fields of black cattle with white egrets. My niece Lizette and husband Mike were inspiring and entertaining respectively. Lizette has cancer and she makes the bald head thing look totally chic. She has great energy for any trivial pursuit that gets people having a good time. Count me on your team any time, kid. Mike is entertaining because he views the world through a physics degree which is to say rationally. Predictably, free floating irony seeks him out. We like this guy, plus he says he can find me MP3s of people I've actually heard of. 
My niece Elizabeth and husband Patrick are expecting the first grandchild of the family. Claudia is like dying to be a grandmother.
