Pirke Avot chapter two, verse nineteen
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to make three points into a triangle.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to make three points into a triangle.
In Which Your Humble Blogger compares and contrasts.
In Which Your Gripy Blogger gripes.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries not to be wicked in his own eyes, which aren’t very strong anyway.
In Which Your Humble Blogger sings along.
In Which Your Humble Blogger mumbles and shukles, shukles and mumbles, but not fast enough.
In Which Your Humble Blogger slips in a quick Book Report before going off-line for a day or so, thus making the stats look better at the end of the month.
In Which Your Humble Blogger did lose all the tomatoes to the Blight, but that won’t happen next year, will it?
In Which Your Humble Blogger starts from the beginning this time.
In Which Your Humble Blogger picks the disc by the viol player, which is nothing like judging a book by its cover. More like judging a book by its, um. Translator? Editor?