Many Happy Returns
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets all Gregorian on your ass, he does, he does.
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets all Gregorian on your ass, he does, he does.
In Which Your Humble Blogger must have read it in the new year, but I think it was in February sometime, or possibly January; long enough ago that the details have faded in memory.
In Which Your Humble Blogger revisits the past and realizes that you can’t go home again, if you were even there in the first place.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has a big kid and a little one, and a big explanation and a little one.
In Which Your Humble Blogger realizes, belatedly, that the point of the Four Sons is not that we should be like the sons, but that we should be like the father.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is more of a Trotskyite, when it comes down to it, which may be why they all move away from me on the bench.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is frustrated and annoyed, and is not allowed to employ the technique of slapthology.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does that Total Request Live thing, but with sonnets.
In Which Your Humble Blogger begins the process of catching up, starting from a dozen behind.
In Which Your Humble Blogger can’t even concentrate enough to make a title that works better than that, but would still like to see your boomerang fish act.