– me, to Kirby, as I attempt to adjust his collar / fit a new one on him because he grew overnight. Again.

(It does seem that I'm naming these morning curtain risings – for the time being – after things I've said to the dogchildren in the predawn.)

Currently +/-0830 in the morning, the sun is shining, and the AC is alive with the sound of riding lawnmowers circumnavigating tiny lawns; I've been back here for more than ten years (after ten glorious years away) and I'm still unable to reacclimate myself to that particular heartlandic phenomenon...

Speaking of: in-lawn fun awaits this afternoon; I'm already sneezing like a motherfucker – high allergy alerts in the inbox – might as well add tall mowed grass to it while I bake in the afternoon sun. Delightful, yes; I hate weekends.

(At least I get to listen to podcasts.)

What I do love is what this space is becoming. I'm happy here, sharing whatever strikes my fancy to no one in particular. Questions as to why I continue to waste my breath on social media abound. (To hold your breath is to waste it, as Alan Watts says.) Perhaps as this space slides out of beta, I'll have a better answer for myself other than 12 years of addiction and habit.

In full TSR0007 edit mode (and interview mode, for 0008 on Tuesday) so the comics thing will shift a bit to the backburner... aiming for 0007 release next Weds, more likely than not will be next Fri. August's MacroParentheticals lands in subscribers' inboxes tomorrow morning.

On with the day, whatever it may look like, bleary-eyed and etc...