Maybe it was just the endorphins left over from my surge of relief over escaping alive from my dental hygiene session yesterday and my first-ever time playing music with other adults (accompanying a recorder ensemble on Purcell’s “The Fairy Queen”, it was wonderful) but on my way to work this morning, watching the green spring scenery roll past it occurred to me that were someone to return from wherever it is the dead go when they die, they would weep with joy at the sight of a gravel road running through a green field into green woods.

The yellow pollen covering my Dobl

Don’t click here.

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1. Cut down two small hazelnut trees because, sorry trees, ferns moving in.

2. On way to compost heap, roughly even with the swingset, encounter a little girl who says, “those trees would make a nice house.”
3. Attach large limbs to swingset with string. Small limbs make nice thatched roof.
4. House is finished, now go find a bucket so little girl can cook; and some sticks, so she can make fire, and a trowel so she can spread rocks throughout your yard, which, no problem, you’ll find again when you mow.

1. Olive loaf is my favorite meat, although my wife cooked me a very delicious steak yesterday.
2. Ferns are my favorite plant. I love the way their fronds unfurl in the late spring, I’m fascinated by the way they spread via an intricate root system. Maybe not so intricate, just sending runners out from which young ferns sprout, but it’s still beautiful. And I love the foresty way the soil smells when you have to transplant several hundred of them from one shady corner of your yard to another because your wife decides she wants to put the mother of all wading pools in the first, fern-populated, shady corner.

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I do honestly provide genuine content sometimes; I’m just busy right now. Remind me to tell you the fern story when I have a minute.

Hi to everyone visiting from Australia.

I wonder if this cheese sandwich is still good?

(Thanks Jenny)

When I have to pee, it causes traffic jams. The severity of the jam is directly proportional to bladder pressure. This morning I had a couple extra cups of coffee and neglected to pee before heading out, telling myself, eh, I’ll make it. As a result, there was an accident on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles. Then when I got past that, there was more such nonsense in Vienna. I’ve never, as an adult, come that close to wetting my pants.

Then, when I got to work, there was no parking near the office. So, when I finally found a spot down the street (a tree-lined street of mansions shoulder-to-shoulder), I barely had time to jump out of my car and take an emergency pee right there. But, because I’m a well-mannered person, I only peed enough so I’d safely make it into work. Which was good, because no sooner had I zipped back up than two rich guys came out of a mansion across the street, talking about whatever rich guys talk about, and climbed into their Porsche and drove off, not having seen a guy standing there with his johnson hanging out of his suit.