We need no urging to hate humans

A champion's night in the deep south proceeds with signs of shock receding. What a game the AFC championship turned out to be. I'm still stunned and admittedly relieved. Through with excuses, I was ready to spend the next few months talking about nothing but the Falcons, bored with the non-super rematch of the '85 Super Bowl. But then the miracle happened, not at once, but slowly built up to a crescendo of... relief. I didn't even think Peyton Manning was really having any fun at the end, he was so deflated from thoughts of someone waking him up and taking it away.

Suddenly my hand is back

My audience, my own work

Another one for the stack

Where a future fortune lurks


A cold, wet rain has fallen steadily all day and a hearty fire has kept me all the hours through all the games and all the canyons of hopes and fears.



This year of the dog has one more cycle to fulfill and then the path to chrysalis, or pupa, shall be celebrated in all the lands. Who would challenge such a decree? I've been listening to the sub-space chatter about it for months now. Now back to meatball surgery.