Somebody asked in a recent comment whether Uncle Sull is into dogs and indeed he is.  I realize that I haven’t properly introduced my Uncle Sull to you all, though you’ve all come to know him here, through his comments, so please allow me to do so now.  I think some of you are under the misconception that my Uncle Sull is some tweedy old pipe-smoking Republican, and he’s nothing like that at all (except for the Republican part).

Uncle Sull is my uncle, Thomas Sullivan.  Tom is my mother’s half-brother from my grandfather’s second marriage and he is much closer to my age than to my mother’s age.  When we were kids, Tommy used to come stay with us during our summers in Michigan and Wisconsin.  Tommy was a city kid, born and raised  in Staten Island, and we lived in leafy suburban areas and so he would come and spend some time with us each summer.  He was a kid, and so were we, so it was funny to call him “Uncle Tom,” but I believe we did.  Uncle Tom?  Did we?  He was cool and citified and always about two years ahead of the fashion wherever we lived.  For example, he visited us in bell-bottoms when we were little, and all wearing regular jeans, then a few years later, we were wearing these giant bell-bottom jeans and he was wearing skinny jeans and hightop Keds.  We must have seemed like such hillbillies to him.

Now I hope Uncle Sull won’t mind if I reveal that he wasn’t always an ultra-conservative. No, Tommy was a bit of a hippy in the 60s,  I so wish I had photos of him.  He had long hair and was into all sorts of counter-culture stuff of the times that drove my very conservative grandfather crazy.  Not sure when he pulled the old switcheroo on us liberals, but we have many people in my family with all sorts of diverse political viewpoints and because of this, I try to never discount a person based on their political views.  I have to say that I believe liberals are a little more close-minded in many ways than some conservatives I know, when it comes to judging others’ political viewpoints. I have friends that insist that they cannot be friends with Republicans or conservatives and that makes me feel sorry for them and their very constricted perspectives, as some of my smartest and nicest friends are Republicans.  Really!  We just don’t talk about politics very much.

But back to Uncle Sull.  I asked him to send me a photo of him and his beloved Newfoundland dog, Buckley and he sent me these.  The first is Buckley eyeing a smokin’ hot actor on a bus stop sign:

And here is Buckley with Uncle Sull, himself.  They don’t always walk around waving the American flag. It was Memorial Day:

Happy Thanksgiving to you all, dear blog readers.  Today we walked all up and down the streets of Montmartre and through the Latin Quarter.  We had a lovely guide who is American but has lived in Paris for much of her life and is very knowledgeable about French history and by the end of the day I was clutching my throat with both hands and making sure that my head was still securely attached to my neck.  Those French sure knew how to throw a revolution.  Our American revolution was still quite recent when the French gave greedy old King Louis and Marie Antoinette the heave-ho, and it’s clear they meant to upstage us with all their casting about of freshly liberated heads of state (and I mean just the heads)and martyring of nuns and whatnot.

Well, I hate when people show you the photos of their holidays and say, “Oh, this is the so-and-so, where we ate such-and-such.”  So I’ll just post a few photos and you can enjoy the scenery and I’ll be happy to answer and questions.  The internet is VERY slow here and I’ve not been able to catch up on all your comments.  But I will!  Happy Thanksgiving!

Okay, I’ll answer your questions about the above shots now. Yes, the Christmas tree is being decorated in front of the Cathedral of Notre Dame.  And, yes, the guy in the crane is giving the finger to the people below, who were all hooting and jeering. In front of the sacred Cathedral. I absolutely LOVE the French.  Oh, our guide gave us her opinion on why the French are such huge fans of American comedians like Jerry Lewis and Jim Carrey.  It is because they always try to be very dignified and correct (except when decorating trees in front of churches) and the American comedians who are the most outlandish with their facial expressions and general physical movements are the most hilarious, in their opinions.   This made sense to me.  I know many Americans have been puzzled by the French love of Jerry Lewis, because many Americans, especially those of my generation just never thought he was that funny.  According to our American guide that’s because we know a lot of people who act like goofballs.  The French do not know so many.

Remember what I was saying about my posing problem?  Just point a camera my way.

The photo below is of me posing with a certain man of the blog. Does anybody know who this mysterious Francophile is?

Some of you know my camera travails of recent months. Well, at the airport on Sunday, as I reached into my giant carry-on satchel for passports, etc. my new-ish camera leapt from the bottom of the bag in an apparent last bid for freedom before we boarded, and it landed on the hard floor, spinning crazily beneath the feet of our annoyed fellow travelers.  The flash was destroyed.  So now, all the indoor and nighttime photos you see will either, a)suck or, b) have been taken by my daughter Dev.

Yesterday, we walked and shopped.  It was raining but just a little and very mild.

Then last night, we went out to dinner.  Devin and I got a little dressed up.  The guys, not so much

We ate here:

Sorry, no flash.  It was called Le Bistroit St. Honore, and oh my dear Lord, it was delicious!  The family wouldn’t allow me to take photos of the escargots, salads, steak frites and lamb stew that we devoured.

On the way home we saw these interesting wigs displayed in a window:

This, of course, was my favorite:

Yes, the pony bouffant was made completely our of human hair!  Tres chic!

Devin and I visited Charlotte yesterday to check on the puppies.  They’ve really grown in the past week and it’s clear that their father(s) outsized their dear little mother, Peanut.  They’re almost half her size already and they’re only four weeks old.

The puppies need names.  I’ll introduce you to each and we can help Charlotte think of appropriate names.  Also, all five four puppies are still available for adoption.  Charlotte will only consider very good homes. She’s asking for a $50 adoption fee which she will then turn around and use to pay the adoption fee at the kill shelter where she finds dogs to rehome.  So, for each of Peanut’s puppies that finds a new home, an older, perhaps needier dog will be rescued.

Now,  let’s meet the puppies.  First, Male Number One:

Male 1

This bold fellow has a lovely white bib and likes to greet new friends with a gregarious “high-five.”  He thinks it’s cool.  We won’t tell him how dated it is (plus, puppies can’t make a fist for the fist bump). His coat is black now, but it has brown highlights and will probably lighten up a little as he matures.

And this is his only brother, Male Number Two:

Male 2

This wrinkly-nosed snuggler seems to have a bit of hound in him.  He will likely be short-coated, and, like the others, on the small size.  It’s impossible to hold him without smiling, as Devin is demonstrating.

Now allow me to introduce the girls:

Female 1

Yes, she’s a blonde bombshell and the eye-catcher of the crew.  This chubby love-bug might have to watch her figure as she matures.  She loves her meals.  Charlotte thinks she’s the smartest of the litter, so take that blonde-mockers.

Her sister, Female Number Two, has a pretty white bib and two little mittens, and a white beauty spot under her chin. Like her sisters, she shows signs of having a whiskery terrier face and coat:

Female 2

And finally, my personal favorite, darling little Female Number Three:

Female 3

Devin and I fell for her.  Hard.  Can’t really explain why.

It was a spooky, rainy weekend here in New England.  I took this photo of my house the other night.  See all the rain spots on the lens?  Or are they actually ghostly orbs?

Devin is working on her college applications and last night she made the mistake of telling me the topic of one of her essays.  It was something like: If you had to come up with a title that would describe your life up until now, what would it be?

Devin joked that she was considering calling her life Of Mice and Bats.

This got me started.  I wanted to help.  ”How about The Beautiful and Damned?”  I offered.

“No,”

“A Little Princess!”

“Mom!”

“The Scarlet Letter!”

“Okay, stop, I really don’t need your help.”

“The Bad Seed!”

“I’m going upstairs now.”

“Psycho! The Creature From the Black Lagooon! Apocolypse Now”

Silence.

“The Thing!”

What will she do without me next year?

I mentioned in a recent comment that Batman dropped by last week.  I wasn’t here, but when I arrived home, the guys working on my bathroom told me he had been there all afternoon and had rigged up some contraptions that would rid the house of bats for good.  I hadn’t noticed any contraptions, so I went back outside and saw what he had done.

Oh Batman!  Dear, sweet, misguided Batman!

Remember when I blogged about the New York Times coming to our house to interview us and take our photos? Well, I have just received an email from our very own Tracy, informing me that the piece is up on the Times’ website. You can view it here.

There’s a slideshow on the Times site and I’ve nabbed some photos to post here.  The photographer, Andrew Sullivan, was really great, as was Beth Maker, the reporter.

Now do you see why I love that grey horse almost more than life itself?  Have you ever seen a horse with a sweeter expression. Love.

Here I am trying to be all pose-y.

Well, it’s hard being photographed next to HIM.  He always looks good..

I’m still trying to sort our how to arrange photos in this new format.  Is it weird to have typing in between the photos like this?

Here’s a shot of our home:

Please go on the site if you want to see the slideshow.  There are a few blog mentions, so everybody on their best behavior tonight.  Tea bags are for brewing tea!

Yesterday a nice photographer and journalist from the New York Times were here to interview us for a piece that will run in October. The journalist is very much into my blog. She quotes from it!

So I adore her.

They wanted to photograph us outside with the animals, so we let Mark and Snoopy come down onto the front lawn. When the Times people left, it was still gorgeous out, and I thought I’d check my emails while enjoying the company of the horses. They were very interested in the computer and what I was typing, certain that it was about them.

I showed Snoopy some photos that I had taken of him recently:

He clicked on his favorites. That lip works quite well on the keys:

Then I got a kiss.

Mark was worried about the way he looked. He thinks I should have left his mane alone. It’s impossible for me to look at this horse without smiling:

Later, he had a word with me. He doesn’t like the direction the blog is taking. He feels it’s too “doggy.”

Here’s Dev and Snoopy. Snoopy just adores Devin:

What’s not to love?

Today it’s raining, so I must work indoors, without my assistants.

All photos (except the photos of her) were taken by Devin Leary.

My son just left to go back to college, which is making me a little sad. Now, I’m glad I forced the family to pose for some photos this summer. Well, the family and Alice. Here’s one:

(Blogger’s Note: This blog has been altered slightly. Original post had different family picture but Blogstress didn’t like the look of her neck. Also, offending poem has been removed for Bev)

Well, our visit to Nantucket is almost over. We’ve had a wonderful time. The weather wasn’t perfect, but I was able to get a surprising amount of work done. Plus, plenty of beach time:

Yes, that’s a sandwich attached to my shoulder. I like to have food attached to me at the beach. Saves me all that pesky digging around in the cooler.
We took some family photos, but of course the kids would rather not be on their mother’s stupid blog, so here’s one of me and D.

I miss my animals though, terribly. Especially her – couldn’t we be sisters? I really think we look sort of alike:

And I really miss him:

Well, all these guys:

Thanks for all the birthday wishes! And, in honor of our wedding anniversary, coming next week, this wonderful poem I found today:
I Married You
by Linda Pastan
I married you
for all the wrong reasons,
charmed by your
dangerous family history,
by the innocent muscles, bulging
like hidden weapons
under your shirt,
by your naive ties, the colors
of painted scraps of sunset.
I was charmed too
by your assumptions
about me: my serenity—
that mirror waiting to be cracked,
my flashy acrobatics with knives
in the kitchen.
How wrong we both were
about each other,
and how happy we have been.

I blogged last summer about how much I love our rental home in Nantucket. You can read about it here, here, here, and here.

Well, we’re back and I can’t tell you how restorative it is to fall asleep to the gentle washing of the waves on the sand and awaken to foghorns and the cry of gulls. Today the water in the harbor is as still as glass. The sea and the sky are the exact same shade of pearly grey this morning and looking out my window is like looking out into a beautifully eerie world where colorful sailboats float in the air.

Every morning a thick mist pours in through our windows and floats through the house and we walk around sipping coffee in this sort of grey half-dawn and I wonder what it was that had me so upset last week or last month … or ever.
We have finally purchased a new camera. My daughter will be taking a photography course this fall so I have turned it over to her. She has agreed to take all the photos for the blog for awhile. Here are some she took yesterday:

A Green Crab’s Shell
by Mark Doty

Not, exactly, green:
closer to bronze
preserved in kind brine,
something retrieved
from a Greco-Roman wreck,
patinated and oddly
muscular. We cannot
know what his fantastic
legs were like–
though evidence
suggests eight
complexly folded
scuttling works
of armament, crowned
by the foreclaws’
gesture of menace
and power. A gull’s
gobbled the center,
leaving this chamber
–size of a demitasse–
open to reveal
a shocking, Giotto blue.
Though it smells
of seaweed and ruin,
this little traveling case
comes with such lavish lining!
Imagine breathing
surrounded by
the brilliant rinse
of summer’s firmament.
What color is
the underside of skin?
Not so bad, to die,
if we could be opened
into this–
if the smallest chambers
of ourselves,
similarly,
revealed some sky.