I got talked into Holidailies again. And don't expect anything earth-shaking or thought-provoking etc. from me. My journal's title is My Incredibly Unremarkable Life, and that says it all.

I live with two cats who keep me warm on cold nights.

The outside menagerie currently consists of several raccoons from Mama Goldie's 2009 litter of five. There are also some possums that hang around, including at least one who takes care of any dry cat food that "happens" to get spilled on the front porch.

The cats are CC, who is a calimese tabby (female), and Spots, who just recently adopted me, even though he lost some body parts to gain entry. He is quite large, and has not challenged CC in the least in the house. She, of course, is a perpetual virgin.

I live in southeastern Louisiana--aka Katrinaville. I'm on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain and was quite fortunate, unless you count the trees I lost. And the pool that got a plumbing crack.

BK (before Katrina) I taught World History at a local university. Since Katrina (and a subsequent hip "incident" in Kenya) I've been working (volunteer) at the Newcomb College Center for Research on Women. It's sort of, part of Tulane. I process archival materials of a really wide (and interesting) variety of women.

Today I discovered that the donation of the collection of my current "subject" was triggered by a letter I wrote to Dear Abby in the 1990s. The gist of it was that women's records needed to be preserved, "famous" or not. And, in fact, the records of "ordinary" women are most frequently tossed aside. And since there are a lot more "ordinary" women than headline makers, how are historians supposed to figure out what their lives (and thoughts) were if nobody saves their papers.

A friend of the subject had sent her a copy of the column. And since this woman saved just about every scrap of mail, there it was in a greeting card.

Enough of the soapbox.

Stay tuned for more fascinating tidbits of My Incredibly Unremarkable Life.