Memorial
In Which Your Humble Blogger does what he does what he does, and is grateful that that’s all he does.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does what he does what he does, and is grateful that that’s all he does.
In Which Your Humble Blogger fails to believe that a Molina in the hand is worth two in the bush.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes on with a sermon, instead of buckling down to the derivation of p’rak’lit and cotaygore.
In Which Your Humble Blogger judges the cover by the book. Or something.
In Which Your Humble Blogger did actually read the thing himself, but only later.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reveals the unsurprising truth that you will pay.
In Which Your Humble Blogger looks back, and then looks forward again.
In Which Your Humble Blogger registers dissent.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was gearing up for some serious snark, but then thought, you know, been there, done that.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has a daughter who has ambitions to be a home-maker, which is also a good thing to do.