BLUB (continued)

Your indulgence, gentle reader, for prolonged absence from the blog-waves.

Keeping up a frantic schedule of late, f'rinstance: several weeks of prep for mere hour-and-a-half lecture about such disparate aspects of the Corpus Christi feast as Los Hombres de Musgo...














and El Misteri d'Elche...














...followed by other less edifying distractions like sewage backing up into shower stall of Newfoundland retreat.

From the sublime to the subterranean slime. Blub, indeed.

Checked my e-mail and apparently the world keeps turning even when I'm out here in the weird time-and-a-half zone. Nice to know some things are ever the same, though. Harry Reid's still a moron. [Should introduce him to Premier Danny Williams-- two peas in a cod.] I can sleep peacefully. As the locals say, "God love ya, m'darlin'." [They do, I swear it.]

Shall return to planet earth soon-- still "live" apparently, despite best efforts of Al Gore to bore it to death.