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Best dog costume ever.
See the runners-up at:

http://slog.thestranger.com/2008
/10/bravo_humanity









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There have been lots of discussions with friends recently about romantic love, which have provided, among others, the following gems:

1. On the difficulties of having multiple partners: "I've always found it to be simpler to have all this management going on with one woman."

2. On the peace between husband and wife achieved in later years: "He surrendered, and she accepted."

3. On the peace between husband and wife that can be achieved in early years: "It's not that hard! Just be nice to each other and don't interrupt."

As these discussions were being conducted, I also happened to be reading Barchester Towers (by Trollope), which deals with many romantic questions, and saw The Duchess (with Keira Knightley) in the theater. I heartily recommend them both.
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I love this passage from Trollope's Barchester Towers. It's so true!

"Considering how much we are all given to discuss the character of others, and discuss them often not in the strictest spirit of charity, it is singular how little we are inclined to think that others can speak ill-naturedly of us, and how angry and hurt we are when proof reaches us that they have done so. It is hardly too much to say that we all of us occasionally speak of our dearest friends in a manner in which those dearest friends would very little like to hear themselves mentioned; and that we nevertheless expect that our dearest friends shall invariably speak of us as though they were blind to all our faults, but keenly alive to every shade of our virtues."
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This is one of the most delicious things you will ever put in your mouth, and it's easy(er) than pie. You will need:

A pat of butter
A ripe pear (or two)
Tuaca (Italian vanilla liqueur)

1. Melt butter in a frying pan over medium to medium-high heat.

2. Saute sliced pear till golden brown.

3. Pour in some Tuaca and gently stir till somewhat reduced.

4. Serve.

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Deb and I spent a nice day going door-to-door in Pennsylvania today, campaigning for Obama. Lots of Obama-Biden signs on the lawns, which was encouraging. It was a beautiful fall day, and we ended up in a lovely neighborhood. And two different people actually thanked me for my visit! Deb and I gabbed all the way up to Harrisburg, and sang old Amy Grant songs all the way back.
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JERF:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/10/15/
cheney.hospital/index.html
Fingers crossed!

LYNN:
Didn't you hear? He went in and they discovered he HAD NO HEART.
Apparently he's been living off the black bile and vinegar coursing through his veins.

JERF:
He also has a steady diet of the good souls of the citizens of this country.
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Here is Parade magazine's report on how Obama's and McCain's tax plans would affect various households:

How Much Would You Pay in Taxes?

Sens. Barack Obama and John McCain both say they’ll cut federal taxes if elected. Here’s what their proposals would mean for you.

	Obama	McCain
If you make...	you'd save...	you'd save...
less than $19,000	$567	$21
$19,000-$37,600	$892	$118
$37,600-$66,400	$1118	$325
$66,400-$111,600	$1264	$994
$111,600-$161,000	$2135	$2584
$161,000-$227,000	$2796	$4437
If you're in the top 5% of earners...	you'd pay an extra...	you'd save...
$227,000-$603,400	$121	$8159
$603,400-$2.87 million	$93,709	$48,862
more than $2.87 million	$542,882	$290,708

*Source: Tax Policy Center. Numbers have been rounded. For complete details, go to TaxPolicyCenter.org.


If your annual salary is less than $112,000, you’d pay less in taxes under Obama’s plan; if your salary is higher, McCain would cut your taxes more. “While the aggregate tax cut is bigger for McCain, a larger number of voters get more money under Obama,” says Alan Viard, a tax-policy expert at the conservative American Enterprise Institute. “Obama is choosing to emphasize tax cuts for the middle class, whereas McCain’s strategy is to keep rates lower at the top as a way to facilitate long-run growth.” For example, a person with an income of $1 million could see his taxes increase under Obama by as much as $94,000, whereas under McCain’s plan he could save about $48,000.

— Rebecca Davis O'Brien

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. . . people worry. So I'd better write an update. I have been deep, deep in a groove of nothingness. A beautiful, lovely groove of nothingness. What did I do this week? Nothing. What chores did I accomplish? None. Who did I talk to? Nadie.

Well, almost. I did rake up 14 bags of leaves and had dinner with family on Sunday. Played some Scrabble on Friday night. Made a pie.

And I did talk to some family over the weekend. It turns out that, unlike me, my family has been very, very busy this fall. Romance has blossomed all over the various branches of the Weber family tree. Hint: Ladies, if you're in the market for an 81-year-old with skinny legs (quoting his grandsons here), you may be out of luck.
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"I think it's transgressive just to try to live your life the way you actually want to live it."

--photographer Catherine Opie

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Jay has been accepted into the online "viewing program" run by The Drawing
Center in New York. If you want to check out his recent work, go to:

www.drawingcenter.org/viewingprogram/index.cfm

and enter Kissel in the Name or Keyword Search box (then click on the thumbnail).

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I don't seem interested in writing anything, so here are some photos of Dad and Rocky, just to put something new up. I like this photo of Rocky because his paws point out, which my mom thought was so cute.

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Winter, by W. Shakespeare

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I know it's a little early, but the cool weather and a recent forway into Norton's reminded me of this poem by Shakespeare, which is both mundane and brilliant:

Winter

(From "Love's Labour's Lost")

 

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marion’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

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