Postcards from the hedge

I’m still alive. After a weekend of teaching and taking care of friends, I’ve not had time to blog the passage of the stars across the heavens, but I assure you, I am still knocking around.

First of all a few quick housekeeping messages.
1. For those who enquired, no, my St Patrick’s Day tattoos were not permanent, and they didn’t involve piercing any appendage of my chest.
2. No, there is no hotel called the Furry Animal & Sprocket. I think perhaps there probably should be, but that’s it. If there can be a Pig & Whistle and an Elephant & Wheelbarrow, then I figure there ought to be a Furry Animal & Sprocket.
3. No, I’ve not taken up gardening. While the title of this post may refer to a plant, I’m still totally inept when it comes to gardening and I would much rather watch paint dry. I have managed to keep a plant alive for more than 6 months but that is entirely incidental, and it’s an Impatiens Ole which is virtually impossible to kill.

Normal blogging will resume just as soon as I am sure what is normal anyway.

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