In comments, Anton pointed out a headslapper:

For nostalgia: Rocky & Bullwinkle & Friends. Such wordplay, such wit. It was a revelation to me as a grade-school kid.

Holy cow! How did I not realize this had slipped through my fingers?

Thanks to Anton’s reminder I have DVDs now. Thanks, Anton!

The rumors you’ve heard are true: it was over 100 degrees here today. I walked home from the grocery store and felt a little guilty about feeling fine, knowing that just about everyone else was miserable. Oh, who are we kidding? Since I feel great, everyone else should just be happy for me! Have a glass of cold water and think about my needs!

It’s absolutely amazing what a person can get through life not knowing.

I was planning to write a stirring epic blog post of indescribable beauty but alas my net connection tanked and now I’m too tired to count how many fingers I’m holding up unless they’re holding a glass of chardonnay. Let us reconvene tomorrow at this locale and hope for less drooling and more drolling. Yes, I made that up. No, I don’t take it back. Tomorrow!

In 1977, my grandparents and I stepped out of a train station and into daylight in Italy. To my eye, the roads came from wild directions and led away crazily. Just then, a woman in a full wedding gown drove by on a Vespa. This was the first time I knew that things happened because I was there to see them.

The disaster unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico signals the end of cheap oil-based American prosperity. It may take a few years for the full horror to dawn on us all along the Gulf Stream on both sides of the Atlantic, but it will because it’s all in motion. In the same way we look back and see how life was radically different during the recession and energy crisis of the early seventies than it is now, we will look back and see this disaster as a turning point. It’s over. If I’m going to learn how to ride a Vespa, now’s the time.

In a few weeks, there’s a class, and I already own a bridal veil and a helmet.

A couple of years ago, Trout gave me a homeless tomatillo plant. It was a tiny, pitiful thing. I planted it in the corner of the garden and nothing much happened for months. Suddenly one day the little thing started growing madly and my daily attempts to support branches couldn’t keep up. This went on until months after I thought for sure the monster would stop growing or I would lose my mind. I mean, holy crap! That is a picture of one plant, no doubt plotting evil. I couldn’t wait to pick the tomatillos and chop it down.

Only reasonably daunted, I planted tomatillo seeds, which sprouted pitifully. The little things do not appear committed to this growing business, but I am not fooled. My friend Scout (no relation) reminded me that growing the monsters upside down might save me months of caging, staking, re-staking, tying, re-tying, staking, tying, re-staking, re-tying. Today, Pete and I transplanted and hung them up. And now we wait.