OldSouth sits to collect himself before the non-stop circus of the next ten days begins. Out for a week beginning Sunday, with contractors gutting a portion of the house in his absence. Progress emerges from chaos, hopefully. Won't be much to time think, much less write.
It is stinking hot in Tennessee, and no place of escape. The dogs head out the door for a few minutes, and come in completely spent from a brief circuit around the property.
A wonderful dinner last night in a recently-owned restaurant in our small town. Husband and wife in their thirties, moving in to nest and raise children. A real sign of hope for us all here. They opened a year ago, brave souls, and have survived the first year in good form. There are little signs of progress here and there, in the midst of all the gloomy news. Here's hoping the various levels of government don't drive a stake through the heart of their ambitions.
Much of the past two days has been spent on one academic colleague whining piteously about the unfairness of a world he cannot make bend to his will, from his exalted position at Bugtussle State U. As one friend noted, whiners seems to exhibit incredibly long attention spans.
Still waiting to hear from the members of the Circular Firing Squad, aka the candidates for the Republican primary in the Eighth District.
They are certainly burning copious piles of cash defaming one another.
Away we go.
Fifty words or less, boys, and play nice...
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