Todo Para Henry
This week I'm afraid (not really afraid, I've got bigger things to be afraid of than this, really -- like snakes, this is always the time of year when snakes start appearing in the gardens (note, I don't think this is the Dickinson-esque fear of snakes, but more of a "these snakes probably are not poisonous, but could, on the off chance, be a King Cobra, escaped from a neighbor's house (where it was being housed illegally, of course) and is now prowling the neighborhood , on the lookout for someone to be startled by and kapow! the venom courses through the victim's veins) and falling rare spotted owls (don't ask, it all goes back to a misguided attempt to be philanthropic... well, not quite philanthropic, I suppose, but phil-environmental, and a really bad judgement call, on my part, to allow other similar inclined people with a lot more proactive dispositions to quote "borrow" my attic space to store, again, quote "stuff," which turned out to be spotted owls, who do not do well in ill-ventilated attic spaces with suspect patchwork performed in the recent past), but you know what I mean, it's a figure of speech, and I'm trying to be kind, here) we've not got much for you. Enjoy the horoscopes. And the beef.
disclaimer:
Hip hip hooray! The mails are out! Or were, last week, anyway. Who knows what's going to happen this week? Not me, that's for sure.
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