Oh by the way, folks,
Today we celebrate a feast day in honor of Saint Aidan of Lindisfarne. In some communities he's regarded as the Patron Saint of the United Kingdom, but I can't find whether he officially holds that job title.
Yesterday's quest was a success. War Goddess got caught, stuck in her cage, taken to Three Notch Veterinary Clinic, weighed, measured, poked, prodded, given two shots and one pill, and got back home again with no humans suffering serious injuries.
And today's quest will, of course, be the obligatory sky-zombie hallucination orgy. Father S, World Champion of the Four-Minute Sermon, is gonna conduct the mystic incantations. He's a pretty cool preacher.
And then for the rest of the day nothing's gonna happen.
A few days ago I observed a shrub seedling (about 4 inches tall) growing where it'll hafta soon get chopped out because it'll block my garage door, so I transplanted it into a spot in my front yard where a bush died last year. I forget the name of it, but it's one of those that I've got a couple others of round and about the property so I know what it's gonna look like. I'll be watching to see if it grows.
So here we are all prepped and primed for Labor Day, and maybe next week the tron company can find a new work crew who can figure out how to underground trons without snagging gas lines.
Signs of life