In Which Your Humble Blogger would have written a shorter note, but I ran out of time.
In Which Your Humble Blogger asks what is truth, anyway? No, seriously, what is it?
In Which Your Humble Blogger begins the final verse of the first chapter, and it’s not even Passover yet.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was told in the summertime that Ms. Bujold was writing a new Vorkosigan book, and yet it is not in my hands yet.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wants to know where all the little buggers are.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reduces the height of the stack by one, albeit a slim one.
In Which Your Humble Blogger ponders an eternal verity, or perhaps an ephemeral verity, or perhaps an ephemeral falsity.
In Which Your Humble Blogger … mmm… lamb… sorry, what was that?
In Which Your Humble Blogger foolishly rushes in to the publishing business, or at least into a discussion thereof.
In Which Your Humble Blogger talks about not talking, rather than refraining from talking about talking.