Post 201: Ann Coulter insults the people of North Carolina ...

... while I am both a member of academia and a liberal of sorts, I am a Virginian who was raised by people who rose from nothing through talent, hard work and determination. I have always been sensitive to the unreflective contempt many non southerners and most college elite members heap on the working people of the south.

Don't for one minute think that Conservatives don't do the same. Check out this post on Sententiae.

And let me know what you think.

An Automaton that Carmen found this morning....

... while I went off to the 'Y' for a spinning class. Apparently she found it in a novel she was reading. An automaton is what we would probably call a robot (from a Czech word meaning 'worker'). It was essentially a clockwork man, or a 'tick-tock man' as the wicked witch called the Tin Man in Oz.

Anyway, it is worth a look. It is an amazing mechanism. And it has much better handwriting that I do.

One more tail of the man who put the Wilkes in Wilkesboro....

... a small quote I discovered while listening to a recorded book of Antonia Frazer's Lives of the Kings and Queens of England. The author is talking about King George III, before he went mad, and before he'd lost the colonies. Poor George was already having troubles,

"whilst the irresponsible libertine John Wilkes stirred the London mob to riot and sedition."

Irresponsible libertine! Riot and sedition!

But he wanted liberty for the colonies and that made him an admirable man, at least to our ancestors around here.

Son of Blaine the Groundhog ...

... or Blaine the Groundhog, Part Deux*? I was out in the room where the little lummox roams, just past the gate marking cat territory, when I glanced out the window and saw a big fat groundhog scurrying across the street to stop in front of our neighbor's house. I'd never seen him before. I think he must live up here on the ridge somewhere. It certainly isn't Blaine, though once you've seen one groundhog it easy to think you've seen them all.

The lummox paid no attention but just snoozed away. Why can't he do that at night?


*pronounced 'Duh'?

One MORE reason why I deserved that milk shake ...

... and a snort or two of good cognac later this evening. After dawdling over it for three years I finally finished my article on Robert de Craon, second Master of the Temple. After The Da Vinci Code everyone should be interested in the Masters of the Temple, and this guy was the one who got everything started. It there were a Da Vinci Code conspiracy this is the guy who would have been in on it.

And as the world's leading expert on Robert de Craon and his family (in fact the only one interested in him) I can pretty well tell you - there was no such conspiracy.

But the paper is done! Three years in the making! Dozens of footnotes! Fifteen whole pages of text!

OK - I may work a little slow, and I may have, uh, issues, with closure, but the damn thing has been sent to the editor. Now there is someone even slower than I am.

And I deserved that chocolate shake, let me tell you ...

... which I will, whether you want me to or not. I had been up late last night, reading a big book and translating some French, so I didn't get up today until 9. Did my usual morning routine which seems to need about two hours to get fully awake (which I now blame on the incurable apnea).

Then I used my bread machine to make some flax seed bread - supposedly good for fighting cholesterol. Then, after reading several books on plumbing and carefully poring over the instructions that came with the faucet repair kit that Lowes hardware sold me as the best kit they had, I was foolish enough to think I could tackle the dripping faucet in the kitchen. Two hours and MUCH cursing and muttering in several languages* the job was done. I discovered that several key steps were simply not mentioned in the minuscule and poorly drawn instructions. What a clever little joke. (I think the Plumbers Union had something to do with this)

Then I took the Beast with Four Paws out for his afternoon walk since Carmen was at work. It was so hot outside that even the Beast didn't want to go until it was almost 5 and the sun had gone down a bit.

Now I am tired. And a bit full after two pieces of fresh baked flax seed bread and a DQ milk shake.


*it impresses the dog.

Maeráed and Maire just dropped by the house...

... and Maeráed was so excited. I hope it was to see Uncle Clemens, but it might have been because she was promised a trip to get ice-cream. I went with them to Glenn's Restaurant. It used to be Glenn's Diary Queen - don't know what happened to the DQ part of the signage.

But otherwise it is exactly like an old fashioned Diary Queen. Air conditioned to about 65, just the way I like it, with the smell of old fashioned hamburgers everywhere. Maeráed got a chocolate and vanilla swirl cone and her mother got the peanut butter milkshake (which she claims was wonderful, btw). I had the traditional chocolate shake.

Then Maeráed and mom took off for Deep Gap where they will take off for Ireland bright and early tomorrow. After waiting fourteen weeks for Maeráed's passport, it finally showed up by FedEX yesterday - but only because Sen Elizabeth Dole's office got involved in it.

Speaking about getting married ...

... I might as well mention that Carmen and I are going up to Gideon Ridge B&B in Blowing Rock, in fact, right next to the Blowing Rock itself, to celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary. We will stay overnight, wander the streets (or rather street) of the town, do some shopping, some fine dining, and knowing us, setting around reading some books. Yeah, I know, Mr and Mrs excitement.

We will probably also stop by Mother's favorite place in Blowing Rock - Saint Mary of the Hills Episcopal Church, the model for the little church in the Mitford books.

I am looking forward to it. We may decide to keep the Little Lummox in the doggie motel one extra night so Carmen can attend a bachelorette party for my dept chair's fiance. He can stick it out in stir for an extra night and Ben and Mosby will be so pleased to miss him.

I'll give a mostly full report when we get back.

Boone, among US News & World Reports' top 10 places to retire!

Not that I'll ever get Carmen to believe that. Too cold for one thing, too many winding roads to tempt me to drive down too fast. On the other hand, it is the place where we got back together again after 10 years or so, and that led to us getting married, eventually. The mile high bridge and one of those "North Carolina Scenic Highways" had a lot to do with it too.

So what does the magazine see in Boone? You can read the whole article here. Here's a sample:

"Boone has a very southern feel," says Lizzy Scully, managing editor of FindYourSpot.com. "People are incredibly polite." Dick Oehser, 77, experienced this firsthand days after moving to Boone from Jacksonville, Fla. Oehser picked out pastries at a doughnut shop, only to realize he had forgotten his wallet. The clerk told Oehser, "Take 'em, and when you're in town again, come back and pay me."

I'd say after Jax-ville Paris would seem polite but that would be an exaggeration. But an exaggeration would be all that it is.

An even odder commendation is here:

Sanna Gaffney, 85, who moved to Boone from Lake Park, Fla., likes the lower cost of living. "We got a house for a very modest price," says Gaffney, a retired teacher who does genealogy research at the public and Appalachian State University libraries.

Maybe compared to Lake Park in the soon to be uninhabitable Florida, but for us the housing in Boone is crazy high. Our little house here in Wilkesboro would cost at least half again as much in Boone -- some insist it would cost twice or more.

Notice how both these glowing comparisons are from Florida. What's up with that?

And the only thing I have against Boone is its town council: its approval of housing density and traffic patterns have consistently been crimes against humanity. I'd say a trip to the Hague is in order for all of them back to about 1900.

Blaine the Groundhog reaches out from beyond the grave....

... to wreak his revenge on the lummox for tormenting him. About a week after poor Blaine got nailed by a car I was certain that it really was him that had died. The hole in the ground he had excavated was clearly abandoned. The little lummox and I went down to take a look at it. Lummox wanted to investigate and stuck his head and shoulders into the hole. I thought the hole was big enough (or lummox small enough) to swallow him completely, so I pulled him out.

The next day Carmen found five ticks on lummox's face!

Now that Blaine the Groundhog is no longer around, his ticks grabbed the first likely victim dumb enough to stick his snout in.

The day at the Merle Fest ...

... which happened over a month ago. Just never got around to posting. Anyway, it was the day of my birthday. My friend Maeráed and her folks came by the house and we walked over. Stood at the sand sculpture where we met our friends from Brooklyn. I went off with them to hear Bela Fleck, one of my favorites. We were able to find chairs just a few rows back from the stage.

After that I rejoined Maeráed and family for lots of greasy festival food. We stayed late that evening to listen to Elvis Costello. I didn't think I would enjoy him much, but I actually did. I had no idea that he was a bluegrass song writer for the likes of Johnny Cash.

Meanwhile I had a chance to observe Maeráed's ever evolving dance style. Last year she was into really frenetic full throttle running around in circles while flapping her arms. It was exhausting just to watch. She was three then. This year at four she has developed a more thoughtful, interpretive mode of dancing. Lots of hands to brow, romantic look, sudden explosion of movement, followed by slow and thoughtful steps with wrist to brow again. Unless she just flops on the grass. Then she suddenly leaps up for another quick step.

A good time was obviously had by all.

I'd better try to start posting again....

... and I'm not entirely sure why I stopped. It's been over a month. No real excuse, except that first I was writing a paper for the whoop-dee-do at Kalamazoo. That was the one on urban violence in the 12th century.

Lately I have been manfully struggling against my congenital and hereditary enemy, procrastination. And losing. I've personified my problem with procrastination as a raven haired femme fatale named Mora, the Latin word for 'Delay.' It can also mean 'fool.' I am a sore loser.

Anyway, I have been struggling to finish an article on Robert of Craon, the Second Master of the Templar knights in Jerusalem. It's the one that was essentially written three years ago. At that time I promised the editor of a festschrift for Master Bernard that I would send it in by the end of the week. Two weeks ago I repeated that promise.

I hold out high hopes of finishing it by Wednesday.

Mora indeed.