Red's Summary of Events To Date

Ye see, perhaps, that the Druidry stay hyer in these parts, but with a foot in the lands of our youth.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Yikes! Intruders! Blood everwhere! Where's my cinnamon bun?
_____

Ah yes. That was delicious.

And we bid adieu, as Raymone would say, to another December of the Julian calendar, and good riddance, say I.

Hopefully, Baby is home, safe and sound now, too.

Too Much Blood

After I, Crumby took that picture located south of here, of the rings around Uranus*, I mean Saturn, last night, I was purty excited, but eventually the Goddess called me to her bosom and I went into repose, thereon. So I was sleeping soundly this morning in the wee hours when all of a sudden voices of humans occurred to me in the very place I was reposed and I began to wake up. I opened my eyes then and espied the outline of a feller (for it was still dark) standin' at the foot of the very bed where several of us are disposed to repose. But I was purty groggy so what I did was get up out of the bed and roar a challenge at this feller who had interrupted my repose. Then there was a great deal of words said by the Goddess of Reality Checks (GRC) along the lines of get out, get out and how did ye get in here and the feller intruder said somethin' like "I need help, I won't hurt you" and then we somehow had this feller out the front door and that was that.

Notice here that the dogs did nothin' at all, not even bark once. In fact, the old one (much like me) never really woke up until the police showed up eventually a while later. A short time after we got this feller out of the house I started to wake up some and while the GRC was hollerin' about what number to call to get the police I started detectin' around and noticed there was blood everywhere, too much blood. Where was all this blood, you might reasonably ask? Easy that, there was blood on the bed top sheet, there was blood on one of the dog beds, there was blood in the hall and on the walls, and in the living room where we had ushered the feller out the front door. There was blood there too. Too much blood. Later, I also detected too much blood on my nightshirt where too much blood soaked through and got on my arm. As soon as I saw that blood on my arm, I washed it all off with soap and hot water, because by then I was wide awake and figured I might get Aids if I didn't wash my arm good.

As noted above the police did turn up and that's when the dogs went into action so I had to corral them before we could parley with the police and tell them what we knew and they could tell us what they knew. The policeman that did most of the parleyin' was, Praise the Goddess, a young Irishman, and naturally voluble, as is common among our Goidelic cousins. So much information was shared, to and fro. Some of this shared information, delivered in the course of two police visits was that our particular intruder had been in a domestic quarrel and had stabbed his wife and also himself, maybe. That would account for, too much blood. Also, this particular intruder had been runnin' around all over the place tryin' to get someone to help him, but at the same time runnin' away from the police. He (the intruder)had been loose in this fashion for maybe an hour and a half before the police, assisted by a police dog, tracked him down and arrested him 10 or 12 houses away south of this location.

But getting back to my detectin' work, what I did was discover first that the intruder had got in through the back door which I had forgot to lock on account of telescope Tomfoolery. Remember, I had been out in the backyard lookin' at Saturn. Then after I lugged that big old telescope back in the house, I forgot to lock the door. There was blood all over and around that door, too much blood. Then I said to myself,

Crumby, ye need to paterole** the perimeter to see where that intruder got in!

So that's what I did and I found lotsa evidence of intruder ingress, some of which is presented just to the east of this spell. The photograph shows blood on the fence, too much blood.

Now, what do I, the Crumby Ovate think about all this? Well, these are my thoughts.

1) I didn't remember I had a gun in the nightstand next to the bed until way long after the intruder was gone. Instead of getting the gun out, I jumped up and growled.

2) The dogs didn't even bark.

3) Ye have to be awake and thinkin' before ye take rational action. This applies to both me and these dogs.

4) Sure the WG loves us and likes to pay extra attention, to us, but She needs to be a little more reserved in Her affection this time of year. She makes too many situations annoyin', fer me, during the moons of the Reed and Elder.

5) My nightshirt, a nice Stuart tartan, had to be thrown out.

6) The GRC is makin' me mop the floors, agin.

7) We started cleanin' up the blood before we realized it might be evidence, but the policeman said it was OK to clean up the blood, and that if it was his house, he'd clean up the blood, himself.

_____
* Glen Rose on the Saturn photo
** Walk the fenceline.

Another First

To the east is the first picture taken with the digital camera through a telescope. It's a little fuzzy because I, Crumby pressed the button. Now I, or somebody around here needs to learn how to use the remote button presser for the camera if we can find it. Nevertheless, I am flabbergasted. This was shot through a 25mm Lomo plossl situated in a 133.5 mm Lomo mak telescope. I have no idea what the magnification is though, but it's zoomed up a ways by the camera. Interestingly, you can watch the planet zip along in the camera viewscreen.

Red Calls a Meetin'

All righty then. I see yer all hyer. What we got to discuss today be how tall the grass be. With all these teenagers runnin' around with lighters, the Cow Barn might get burnt up on account of we got more grass than cows this year and a purty big and dry standin' crop of the grass. Does anybody hyer have a thought on this subtopic?

Easy that, I, Ray am agin it. There could be shrews out in the grass that might get runovered by the mowers.

Hmmmmm. Ray, have you seen any shrews out in the grass?

Noper, Rayetta, but it looks like shrew habitat, to me, and I'd know shrew habitat if anyone would. And that particular shrew habitat has been thereabouts only a short while so the shrews could just now be finding it.

I, Hope agree with Ray. Even though there are no shrews about now, or perhaps we just have not encountered any, they could be racing into this habitat even as we sit and ponder hereto.

I, Lomo no hurt shrew neither, but giant grass interfere with panic attack detector system. Need to cut giant grass or panic sneak up on Cow Barn, maybe.

Jeez Louise, Lomo, I Crumby didn't leave off shoat skitter wranglin' to come home and hear such malarkey. The dern detectors are up in the trees. The grass aint that high. Yer monkey lala just wants to mess with something. Aint that right.

Lomo lalaed now. Better not call Lomo monkey lala. Not call Lomo monkey, neither. Red, Crumby cussin' Lomo out. Lomo gonna whup 'em.

All righty then, let's simmer down hyer. Crumby ye watch yer tone in these meetin's fer Goddess Sake and ye Lomo, quit changin' the subject. And fer a matter of fact the both of ye can keep yer mouths shut if'n ye aint got contributory, pertinent spells to utter. Now let's see hyer, er, yepper the dern grass and whether we ought to mower it fer fire management.

I, Rayetta have something pertinent, interesting and useful to spell on this subtopic. Most of the grass is seeded out and dead. Perhaps we could mow it in little patches, especially those in the immediate proximity to CB structures and interested parties could monitor the little patches for shrew activity prior to and during the action to make sure no harm comes to any shrews. Further, I spell that Ray will mow and Hope will monitor, the little patches.

Caint do er Rayetta. The mowers er all broke.

Ray! You know very well we have a brand new mower and it better not be, broke!

Oh yeah. I clean fergot about that new redun.

Whut's this hyer about broke mowers. All ye boys get on them broke mowers and fix em. Hyer ye be eatin' me outta my bean bin and ye caint keep up with the chores on account of yer to lala fat. This hyer is aggravatin', to me. But once again thanks to the LDR fer comin' up with a spell, I, Red can live with. So meetin's dismissed and it's time fer afternoon snacks and naps.
____

As has been noted in this topic many times, this turn of the wheel has waxed dry and hot. The pavement spreads and all else diminishes in these parts so that much is likely to burn up from fireworks and teenagers with lighters. Lucky this aint fire cycle environment, but maybe that's coming, some payback from the WG.

The Arkdruid

Ray's Thought for the Day

Three fifties of wicked men were espied by the swineherd, and all of the 3 x 50s were armed to the teeth and practicin' for wickedness they were contemplatin' so the swineherd hooked it from his espyin' spot and roared off to raise the alarm which he did do before the 3 x 50s of the wicked could lay hands on 'em. Yepper, a swineherd has to be alert and fast, not just to keep up with all his charges, but also so the swineherd can alert the unwary and ignorant to the presence of the wicked.
_____

Ray is paraphrasing from Druidry 101, "The Many Duties of a Swineherd".

The Arkdruid

Saturn is Way Cool!

Well I swan. Tonight for about an hour before the clouds rolled in we got a nice long leisurely look at Saturn with a full range of eps. Yikes! Lotsa fun! Tomorrow night if its clear we'll get a bigger scope out and look again.

Jeez Louise! Those rings sure are big! This must have been what is called a good night, before the clouds rolled in. Boy howdy! It still is a good night.

Red on The Adventures of Etain

Yepper. She visits us now and again. Perhaps anon some great Druid will win her back for all time.

The End

Hope on The Adventures of Etain

Much hope may be drawn from The Adventures of Etain. Here we have a young lady that undergoes dreadful hardship and indignity, yet who ultimately fetches up in Tier na Nach, a very pleasant locale. Plus, she is the queen there and has the best food and drink and all the pretty things she could ever want and is married to the handsomest man in Eriu. Also, she has a daughter that is famed throughout many places for her embroidery and a grand daughter that was also the most beautiful woman in the Eriu of her day and who is the mother of King Conare of the Many Geise*. So that's quite a lot, I surmise.

Now I will admit that Etain's passivity is strange, to me. She never chooses for her own sake, but always abides whatever fate is determined for her. In that respect she seems estranged from the rest of us mere mortals. She left us here, but I know, she comes to visit now and then and sometimes stays awhile.

to be continued
____

*King Conare, due to his kinship with the Banshee, has many geise (gessa). Way more than Cu Chulaind, for example, or even Ray and the Crumby Ovate put together.

The Arkdruid

Ray's Thought for the Day

Baby, a sweet horse known to RGVECB is sick. Please, WG, look out for Baby and see that she gets well.

Adventures II - Free Advice Fer Cleaning Yer Optics

As has been noted previously within the general confines of this particular topic on numerous occasions, RGVECB, is a terminal consumer of optics ranging from linen testers and simple spectacles to telescopery. And all these optics are pretty much in constant use by humans and proto humans that may not be paragons of cleanliness next to Goddessliness. So the optics get dirty, er, perhaps nasty might be a better term to describe the particular condition of these optics, since dirt aint generally the problem. So yesterday I, Crumby Ovate, under the general supervision of the Goddess of Reality Checks, was dispatched to the grocery store to see if the grocery store had any optics cleaning fluid. But, of course, I couldn't find any optics cleaning fluid and no one in the store seemed to know where any optics cleaning fluid was, either.

In this sort of predicament at the grocery store I have found that the best solution to the predicament is to throw yerself on the mercy of the pharmacist. The pharmacist is generally the best informed person at the grocery store and generally knows where all the different items are distributed. So I went over to the pharmacist area and there were two pharmacists. One of the pharmacists was a pretty and efficient young lady, but she was talking on the phone. The other pharmacist was a gentleman of about my age in this iteration and he had a pony tail so I immediately recognized he was more intelligent than average.

So I inquired,

Excuse me sir, does this grocery story carry optics cleaning fluid?

Yes we do have some of that, but I can tell you, you don't want to use that. Here's what I use on all the pharmacy microscopes. It's a lens pen. See, it has a brush on one end, and on the other end it has a cleaning tip that never requires moistening. This pen is for normal cleaning chores, but if the optic is particularly nasty then I use these.

The pharmacist indicated an inch and a half square piece of tinfoil with alcohol swab spelled on it in blue letters. Then,

In sniper school you can't afford to have dirty optics. Dirty optics can slow you down and ruin your score. But with one of these pens and some alcohol swabs you can clean a lens expeditiously. What they would do in sniper school if you weren't watching your rifle is they would sneak up and smear chapstick on the rifle scope optics and if you didn't clean it up really fast, not being able to see out of the rifle scope would ruin your score.

And do you vend any of these pens or swabs at this grocery store, I inquired.

No, but you can get these pens on the internet, or I'll bet you can get them at the Academy.

Hmmmmm. I thought. But then I asked,

But do you have any optics cleaning fluid since that is what I am looking for now?

Yes, we do. See it's hanging on that top shelf right over there.

I then went over to the area indicated and carefully inspected the proferred optics cleaning fluid, but after the glowing account of the great and many benefits of the optics cleaning pen and the alcohol swabs, the little tubes of optics cleaning fluid seemed, well, measly and inadequate, to me. So I didn't purchase any and I felt guilty about that, not purchasing any, because of all the time the pharmacist/sniper had devoted, to me.

However, I departed that particular grocery store with new and valuable information and also with an eight piece sack of delicious fried chicken, a 12 pack of toilet paper and other commodities too numerous to account for in this venue.

Looky here what I found at the Academy! I have not used it yet, so I can't personally vouch, fer it.

Adventures II - Crumby Opines on Providing Details for the Curious

In addition to enumerating, I Crumby like to measure attributes. One of the great issues I deal with daily is whether some item will fit or work properly. Once upon a time, the Goddess of Reality Checks, my reality not hers, decided to purchase a new mirrow for one of the RGVECB comfort stations. But she did not measure the old mirror or the replacement mirrow, instead relying on gestaldt. So the new mirror turned out to be way smaller than the old mirrow. We could have taken the new mirror back to Home Depot, but I had an accident with it before that could happen. Consequently, I may still be in the throes of seven years bad luck, but how would I know that, fer sure.

So I need to measure stuff to know if it will fit or if it will work right. This is why, right now, I want to know the top diameters and how much certain generic plossl eyepiece lenses are recessed. I need to know this information not only on the plossls, but on other types of eyepieces I might be interested in puchasing if I was made aware of these particular dimensions. Yet this is not the kind of information (these particular dimensions) that venders tell a potential buyer of these items even after the potential customer, me, has sent polite e-mails to the venders inquiring after these dimensions. These venders that don't reply don't realize the awful consequences of their inaction, laziness and turpitude.

On the other hand, the venders at Surplus Shed cheerfully and expediently provided this information on their products (as did a fellow Astromarter). Unfortunately their products have unsuitable dimensions. Nevertheless I intend purchasing one of the Surplus Shed products anyway once I discover how to actually purchase a product for the first time on their website, a process that is not intuitively obvious, to me.

Yepper. This do-hickey here would do precisely what is required if only it would fit into this thing-a-ma-jig here. Dang it and also rats-ola which expression I heard for the first time ever today. Ordinarily we at RGVECB frown on the use of animal nomenclature cussing, but we may make an exception for rats-ola which is very mild cussing because literally translated, it means Hello rats! Hmmm.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Limbo!

I, Ray know what Limbo is.

How low can you go?

Limbos lotsa fun. Especially when the practitioners have big bellies and/or well-constrained bosoms.

Adventures II

The great thing about the occupation, naturalist, is that studies pertinent to that occupation are, open ended. No facet of the real, or imagined to be real, potentially, escapes the attention of the keen naturalist.

Yesterday, at the CB and immediate vicinty I saw and counted six mockingbirds at once. Six is the most I could see and count at one time so I know there were that many, but there could have been additional ones present that I did not detect, because six was the maximum number I ever saw at the same time, ever, during the interval that I was engaged in mockingbird enumeration. So six is not necessarily a precise accounting of the mockingbirds or even an approximation. Six mockingbirds enumerated at one time is just a fact.

Crumby, I, Rayetta inquire, what limited yer ability to enumerate the mockingbirds?

Easy that Rayetta, all those mockingbirds looked alike, to me. They were playing chase in the live oaks, zipping every which-a-way and I could not espy any one of them continuously. Also, their pre-fornication antics stirred up a great many other birds, blue jays and white-winged doves and those distracted me from enumeration. Also, I was distracted by Bewick's wrens, chickadees and titmice even though those were too little to consider enumerating. Then too, I had to interrupt the enumeration of the mockingbirds to consider a red-bellied woodpecker.

But consider this theological hypothesis. Mockingbirds (Mimus polyglottus)are transmigrated Confederate soldiers killed before they accepted Jesus. The evidence for this is that mockingbirds, despite the common moniker, Northern Mockingbird, are generally southern in disposition within these Yorenited States, and also, they are gray in colour, much like unto the garb of the long vanquished secesh.

Sooooooooo. Seeking comfort for the memory of a lost loved one, who may not have been saved in a timely fashion, someone, possibly a grieving lady, postulated theologically that a mockingbird, singing cheerfully and bouncing up and down in the top of that tree yonder is Johnny returned, to me. And this theological hypothesis became a part and parcel of our culture and mythology.

This is precisely why I am really disappointed in the latest Pope, what's his name. For this particular Pope is apparently scheming to deep-six Limbo. Limbo, in company with all theological hypotheses, has, so far, not been proved or disproved.
_____

Crumby, do you think theological hypothesis is an oxymoron?

Stop it Rayetta. Yer distractin' me! Er.
_____

All righty then. Limbo, in company with all theological hypotheses, has, so far, not been proved or disproved. The theological hypothesis, Limbo, is that the unbaptized, and maybe the unshriven* who pass on, but are innocent of sin or nearly so, need a place to go besides Hell. So St. Thomas Aquinas postulated Limbo as the repository for the category of souls, innocent or nearly so, but unbaptized. As you can imagine, a great many poor souls, have fallen into this category, maybe.

Anyway, St. Thomas apparently postulated Limbo as an alternative to St. Augustine who had all the unbaptized going to Hell no matter what. So possibly you can see that Limbo was an improvement in the general neighborhood of positive thinking and something of a comfort to those grieving for lost loves, unbaptized babies and dead heathen that had generally behaved. Also, the theological hypothesis, Limbo, engendered many literary deriviative subhypotheses that have interested and comforted a great many. Thus, suchlike as faeries, pet dogs, Neanderthals, Moses and water babies all have a fairly nice place to stay when they are dead.

What worries me is that this new Pope, what's his name, will come up with a theological hypothesis worse than Limbo, and the twilight world shall be no more. Sob!
____

It's OK Crumby. Don't worry about this anymore. You've just become fixated and overwrought. It'll be OK. Let's go have some oatmeal.

Oatmeal! All righty then, Rayetta. Oatmeal sounds delicious, to me.
_____

*The unshriven are those that do not confess their sins before pegging out. We are not sure where the Pope hypothesizes they go, but our best guess is, Hell.

The Arkdruid

Hope on The Adventures of Etain

Rayetta you are just too cynical. Did you know that Etain's grand daughter took up embroidery and became so famous on account of her great skill at embroidery that she never waitressed in a honky tonk, ever. Not only that, and despite a very difficult early childhood, she became Queen of the Ulaid and her son became a great king and and fairly famous despite the fact that he was allergic to chickens. See. There's always hope.

Hmmmm. Hope, are you spending lotsa time with Ray? You should know that whatever Ray has, may be catching.

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Adventures of Etain

Yepper, I, Ray am quite fond of oxen. Allegedly, the Tuatha were the first ones to yoke oxen across their shoulders, rather than puttin' the yokes on their heads. This strategem allowed the oxen to pull along with their whole bodies with most of the force devoted to pullin' along more in line with the oxen's centers of gravity.

One day Mider and a bunch of the Tuatha were buildin' a great road through a bog as partial compensation for Mider abscondin' with Etain, again. And, of course, the oxen were hepin' the Tuatha build the road. This particular road was a very great undertakin' and involved the placement of a great many bridge class culverts demanded on account of all the wetlands and Waters of Eire that were bein' impacted, so Mider wanted to keep the engineerin' details a secret. Then Mider told Echu "Keep yer bunch away from the project limits, they might get hurt, and I aint liable fer that." But Echu couldn't live with followin' those directions (Echu never could get over seein' Etain get levitated out of the dining hall and always suspected Mider was trickin' 'em.) so he, Echu, sent a spy out to watch how the road was bein' built. And the spy saw how the oxen were yoked on the shoulders and not on their heads and he made a drawing of the oxen so yoked and took that drawing back to Echu. Some say that particular road would have been perfect in every detail, but because of the spyin' (Mider learned about the spyin' of course.) that particular road got designed all catty wampus so that a traveler could easily get lost, on it, fall off somewheres, and drown. And these are the spells of the Tuatha as they worked.

Place it here, place it there, excellent oxen, in the hours after sundown, very onerous is the demand, no one knows whose the gain in building the causeway over Moin Lamrige.

Anyhow, that's the story of how the Irish learned how to yoke oxen, properly. And Echu got the credit for that invention, the shoulder yoke, fer oxen.

Yip! Yip!

The '06, 30th anniversary lunar calendar arrived today, that's put about by Luna Press. We like it. Thanks Martha. Hmmm. It keeps track a little different than we do, but that's OK.

Rayetta

Crumby Ovate on The Adventures of Etain

Red is correct and so is Rayetta in my opinion. Mider was a coward early on in his career, but down the road, acquired some gumption. Early on he was just scared of his wife and her family, but Oegnus fixed that for him. I have to wonder though, what happened to Oegnus. There sure enough had to be payback for the killing he did. I need to scout that out. Maybe Dr. Swineherd knows.

Anyhow, in addition to the capability of levitating to great heights while toting an undetermined, but potentially significant mass, Mider was fairly clever. Those attributes, levitational skills and cleverness are bound to increase intrepitude and decrease cowardice, or they would in me if I possessed those attributes. Plus he could turn himself into a swan and even turn Etain into a swan. I can turn myself into some kinds of birds much smaller than swans, but I can't turn other people into even dickie birds. Nevertheless, I consider myself close on that point with Mider.

In any event, Mider thoroughly outsmarted Echu and got his heart's desire, Etain. Not only that, Mider managed to really embarrass Echu (Echu was embarrassed!!!) by tricking him into sleeping with his own daughter, which as you possibly know by now, was Etain's and Echu's daughter that Echu picked out from the 50 serving ladies. Etain wasn't even included in the 50, just her daughter. That's a pretty good trick. Sending those 50 ladies and, of course, Echu would pick the one he thought most resembled Etain.

Echu got tricked out of Etain, but also is credited with the "invention" of the ox yoke. Ray will have more to say on that anon, since oxen are one of Ray's favorite organisms.

Alas, this story is still confusing, ethically, to me. But what I do get, from it, is that Druids need to be clever. That I get, fer sure.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Move on dot Org apparently believes I, Ray am a member of that Org. A while in the past I was asked to fill out a questionaire, ranking subtopics from 1-10 with regard to which were the most troubling, to me. However, those subtopics were not the ones that are the most troubling, to me. So here's my list of political issues that fire me up. It's a short list.

1) the National Environmental Policy Act - enforce the laws to the letter, make 'em tougher and stop the liars and gluttons from gettin' their exemptions and exceptions

2) tax support and depoliticization for federal and state employees administrating the NEPA laws

3) political corruption and stealin' money from me

4) put the liars and gluttons in jail which means we need more honest and incorruptilbe people paid to uncover their lyin' ways and evil schemes, and this process needs to be a lot more expeditious than it has been in the recent past

5) make it illegal for government officials and the judiciary to play golf

Whew!

Once again, I have proven worthy to continue and remain going onward in this iteration, unkilled, unconked and relatively unscathed. Now I can relax, just a lala hair as the Arkdruid might say.

Say Ray, whut's happenin', dudest?

Well, Crumby, the potted meat and meat byproducts and imitation meat products police be after me.

I warned ye about them adds boy. Plugin' cinnamon rolls and Lazy Boys aint allowed, less ye get paid, fer it. And ye aint brought in a nickel. Stick to spoofin' the lardlalas some other way. Them advertisin' spells is too subtle, fer 'em.

Yer wrong there Crumby. It's the way to go. I just need Raymone to help work out an invisibility problem er two. And quit suckin' up to the Arkdruid. Yer makin' me sick with them lalas!

Ha! Ray yer a chicken lala, lala wad.

I warned ye Crumby. Soon's we're in the clear from Red and the ladies yer gonna get a big boy whuppin', fer sure.

All righty then Ray, ye gonna kick my lala.

Not exactly, I'm gonna kick yer lalain brains out and eat the little putrid lalaers fer breakfast. Whoa! Now I'm spellin' it!

Ha! It aint ye Ray, it's the Arkdruid. The Arkdruid aint allowin' us to cuss fer the nonce.

The Arkdruid aint.

Noper. The Arkdruid aint.
______

Now let's see if I can spell something about the grammar.

The Arkdruid

Ray's Thought for the Day

Someone or something has determined I, Ray am runnin' a spam blog. Since, so far as I am aware, only RGVECB inhabitants, that is Red, Rayetta, Crumby, Hope, Dr. Swineherd, Nancy the Goddess of Practical Jokes, the Arkdruid and occasionally Lomo or Raymone publish, and I, Ray personally review all these missals, and we never send out anything anywhere unsolicited or even solicited and we don't know if anyone even reads this besides us, the evangelism component having not taken off like some of us anticipated it would, we are confused about the spam blog label. Nevertheless, we have endured the spam blog word verification which means we have to read a group of confusing letters in goofy type face and then spell those in the box below the goofy letters, identically. This can be difficult sometimes because those letters are hard to read. For example, vv can look like w, to me.

Undoubtedly, stealth is the root cause of RGVECB bein' labeled a spam blog. But I, Ray have finally come to the conclusion that stealth is not enough. What is required is, invisibility.

Rayetta on The Adventures of Etain

Well Red. You are certainly entitled to your opinion. But I happen to know that Fuamnach is presently rotting and will continue rotting for as long as it takes the WG to determine if Fuamnach is actually sorry and not merely pretending to be sorry like so many in Fuamnach's situation would be, pretending. Crocodile tears! Easy those to espy!

Now here's something that really drives me nuts.

That night Etain was serving the chieftains, for serving drink was a special talent of hers.

Surely you can see why this kind of shenanigan is so aggravating, to me. Yes, I know that the Goddess is supposed to always be helping out the slack jawed and the drunks, and that this is one way to propagandize to the ignorant and vulgar, but for Goddess Sake, why is the heroine in this particular story always waiting tables. Couldn't she be planting vegetables or studying the cows. Oh well.

But how can we elaborate even more on Etain's waitressing skills? Let's have Mider come to visit Etain at her castle where she now lives with her husband King Echu, the "another worthless Irishman" of Red's commentary. In contradiction to Red, yet again, on this occasion Mider shows some gumption in that he comes alone into an armed camp, waltzes into the dining hall, grabs Etain right in front of the besotted king and the king's besotted chieftains and then, lo and behold, floats up through the skylight in the roof of the dining hall, and is not seen again in those parts for a good while.

But the next day, when everyone is sobered up, maybe, Echu and his chieftains realize their serving wench is absconded with by the Banshee King, which is what Mider was (is), and the thought of not having Etain around to serve drinks, plus temporary sobriety, rouses them to action. So they all troop off and attack a Banshee fortress, but, of course, it is the wrong Banshee fortress, not Mider's Banshee fortress, but a totally unrelated Banshee fortress. So it goes and the wheel turns and we all take a spin. Eventually, Echu and his armies do sufficient damage to a variety of Banshee fortresses so that Mider is compelled to sue for peace. Echu demands the return of Etain.

What happens next is really too much! At the third hour of the following day 50 women identical in appearance and dress to Etain and one old hag (Cerridwen) enter Echu's courtyard. The old hag foretells "We are fixin' to go home fer we be much awearied of these parts and ye get to pick whichever of these ones ye would posess, other than myself, and the one ye pick out will stay hyer, but the balance of us is splittin'."

Upon hearing this, all the Irishmen go even more slack jawed than before, many indulging in displacement behaviors such as scratching. But Echu is not the king for nothing so he foretells, "We shall have a serving contest between the women, excusing the old hag, and from the serving characteristics of the 50, I Echu will detect which of the serving women is Etain."

See! This is really just too much, fer me!
_____


The Adventures of Etain
to be continued

Ray's Thought for the Day

I, Ray just remembered the title of the cinammon bun vendor that bakes those cinnamon buns, fer me. They go by Empanados de la Boca and are the concocters of those delicious cinnamon buns. I recommend those cinnamon buns without any reservation. As a matter of fact, I am off to purchase one of those cinnamon buns, anon, fer break fast, since as a matter of fact no provender has been forthcomin' to me since yesterday evening. Perhaps that's why it's called break fast.

Ray made a fast break fer his break fast. Har, har. I got to tell that one to Red.
_____

For some reason some lines from an old Woodie Guthrie song keeps pingin' my noggin this mornin'. It must be the season for carols.

When Jesus come to town
All the workin' folks around
Believed what he did say
But the bankers and the lawyers
And the gun thugs that they hired
Nailed Jesus Christ to the sky
_____

Not sure I got that right, but close enough, maybe. That spell comes from a different time and place, fer sure.

So the question is, is it OK for Druids to celebrate Christmas? Yepper, it's OK. We reflect on the relationships of the various sungods to the WG.

A new variety of Andropogon glomeratus?

Bushy bluestem is generally taller than a RGVCECB canteen. But not the particular one pictured to the east. It's a dwarf one, genetically determined to be short, maybe. Or perhaps it was cloned in South Korea and got over here some way or another. Perhaps some careless or carefree person poured Old Crow on it to stunt its growth. Truth be told, we don't know why it's so dang short.

Andy Glom and the rest of these plants (below) are on Cow Creek limestone with some Hensell sand thrown in the cracks and fissures. Locale is western Travis County in the vicinity of Hamilton Pool. Nice that this land has become a Travis County park and not something else again and it very well could have become something else again.

Just Hangin' Out

Eupatorium havardii in flower on Dec. 22
E. harvardii in fruit
Samlous ebracteatus var. cuneatus when the picture is blown up real big. Samolus the genus, S. valerandi in particular, is an old holy plant, fer us.
Buddleya racemosa in wintertime.
goofy Carex that may be C. perdentata but maybe not

Red on The Adventures of Etain

I didn't know that Fuamnach so far as I know. We didn't have overlappin' iterations, maybe, her bein' before my time. Turnin' poor little Etain into a dern fly and then sendin' winds to drive the fly hither and yon so the fly could get no rest. Ha! No rest. But the righteous don't need rest, so Etain didn't need rest either. Noper, that Etain just buzzed happily along fer everyone, fly er no. That's a good lesson, fer me. So then Etain gets herself remetamorphosized through the gustatory and reproductatory efforts of Etar's wife. Biologically confusin' that, much like some other stories I, myself, Red, know. Nonetheless,

It is She who will be celebrated everywhere; it is She the king is seeking. Once she was called Be Find. Now she is our Etain.

What would you do if you loved Etain, but feared to protect Her? What would you do if you were a coward with a yeller streak down yer back? That's Mider, all righty, a coward. Afraid to stand up to Fuamnach for fear of the sungods retribution. Oh he loved Etain all righty.

I love Etain, but I'm scared to stick up, fer her. Ogma Sunface er Lug the Lightbringer might hurt me. Course I did bring this sitiation on myself by trying to have Fuamnach and Etain to wife and that did rather piss of Fuamnach since I was supposed to just be married to her, and maybe bein' in the wrong on that count put the yeller streak up my back, maybe.

But Oegnus warn't no coward and he lay for Fuamnach one fine day, bushwhacked her and cut her head clean off so that Fuamnach was not merely dead, she was sincerely dead and, according to Rayetta, the WG has her up in the Castle, fer sure. I, Red don't know about that. Fuamnach may be out by now, enjoyin' another iteration. After all, how would you feel if yer husband fersook ye fer another. Ye'd be aggravated too. It's just ye might not be so vengeful as Fuamnach was. But Fuamnach deserves another chance in my book, she shouldn't have to rot ferever, just fer a good long spell.

Anyway, Etain gets herself born again in woman -child kind, grows up and gets herself married off to yet another worthless Irishman and, a course, here comes that coward Mider a lookin' fer Her, agin.
_____

The Adventures of Etain

to be continued

Ray's Thought for the Day

Busy! Busy, busy, busy! That's right. Yesterday I, Ray was too busy to think. Probably what's going on is that all the crazy people are infecting me with their craziness and busy-ness by osmosis er something like osmosis. They are running around in a panic in great numbers all over the city. This phenomena, that occurs annually during this season, reminds me of the sudden surge in the hum of industry when a big boss makes a visit to the office. All of a sudden, workers that no one has seen in a week turn out, hustling around industriously, and they are better dressed than is the norm also.

Here I am big boss, workin' really hard and can you see how nice I look?, for I am dressed up, but don't think for a second that I'm not dressed up all the time!

What's that Rayetta?

Hmmm. Perhaps they are not running around Ray, but mostly driving around. So the thoroughfares are clogged with the crazy/busy. Well, I will certainly be happy to see the proximity of Imbolc, though Goddess forgive me for wishin' this iteration away. Hmmmm. Actually, I just wish the crazy/busy would go away.

What's that Crumby?

Me three. They are makin' me nervous, but not as nervous as I would have been under other circumstances, like havin' all this goin' on plus shoat skitter wranglin'. Do ya'll think all this crazy/busy is fulminated by the Beast.

I do. Me too.

Me three.

Hope. You don't seem bothered at all. How do you dispel the Beast?

Easy that. I ignore the Beast, totally. That's why I don't watch TV. That's why I try to keep Red away from the TV.
_____

The Beast, the Druids are referencing is the collective manifestation of the desire of a society of humans to devour all the globe as quickly as possible and is best summarized by the colloquialism, "If you can't la la it or la la it, la la on it."

The Arkdruid

Photographing the Tiny

This is a seed, the red jobby with its utricle half off, and note the stamens on the utricle, of (Iresine rhizomatosa), we think. This was taken with some technology new to RGVECB that has been eagerly anticipated and arrived expeditiously. This is the very first photo taken with an Olympus C-5060, coupled with a 25mm LOMO plossl with a Digi-T camera adapter all stuck in a LOMO microscope. Ha! Perhaps we shall go into the business of making pictorial botanical keys for mere mortals.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Yikes! It's the shortest day of the year. So we better be good boys and girls, fer sure, cause the WG is watchin'.

RGVECB spells happy and safe for all those we both know and like. Especially, we spell safe and happy for those that are travelin' or we don't know where you are or what yer doin'. Goddess bless and a welcome before you.

Potential Safety Topic - environmental hazard -Freezin' Yer Brain

Christmas Bird Account

So here's an important Potential Safety Topic - environmental hazard - Freezin' Yer Brain for the Druidry in these parts.

You really can get so cold that you absolutely lose all conception of rational behavior. Even I, Crumby Ovate totally lost it on a boat ride Monday. I forgot to take warm clothes and nearly froze my noggin, but mostly I froze my feet and legs and genitals. Those diverse parts of me were so cold for an undetermined time that I lost rationality. All I wanted or cared about or could think about was getting warm. Even ladies falling in the water while they were trying to get in the boat failed to rouse me from my frozen torpor. I didn't even consider their plight. I couldn't because I was too cold to think about anything but being warm myself. That's all I wanted, was to be warm. But I was so cold and the circumstances seemed so hopeless that all I could do was shiver uncontrollably. Now sitting here where I'm fairly warm with a delicious mug of Chock Full O' Nuts instant coffee, as you can see for yourself, by reading this spell, I am restored to normal functionality, maybe.

These are the garments I had on Monday at the crack of dawn boarding that boat with a freezing cold 20 mph wind blowing from the north. A green wool jacket, a green cotton sweater, a green T-shirt; so far so good, but, Rustlers, Fruit O' the Loomies, cotton dress socks and boots were all that were on my down side. The photograph to the immediate east of this text illustrates those particular garments that adorned my down side. The ones on the north side are the ones that adorned me when I boarded that boat. The ones on the south side are the ones that saved me, along with a blue hat one of the ladies loaned me. I had to give that hat back, so it is not pictured.

As is clearly indicated above I was too cold to do anything except shiver the whole time I was on that boat. But some of the ladies got off the boat and walked around on land for awhile as I rode freezing on the boat. When we stopped the boat to pick the ladies up and put them back in the boat, two of the ladies fell in the river and their Wellies filled up with water. I was only barely concious of this event because I was so cold it had no significance, to me. Then when the wet cold ladies were all aboard we zoomed off in the boat again to the other side of the river where a van was parked and that van had a heater. So everyone got out of the boat and I went and sat in that van with the heater running and after about 10 minutes I began to think again, but mostly all I thought about was how cold I had just been and how I should not be cold any more that day. Then we had to go get gas for the van because it was nearly out of gas and everyone, especially me, thought it would be a good idea to get some coffee. So I was driven up to a gas station where I planned to lock the keys in the van so I could stay at the gas station for a few hours. But I couldn't pull that off because I was still not thinking clearly.

But then I thought clearly, epiphany like, perhaps this gas station has some garments I could purchase. And sure enough it did. Those green pants only cost $3.99 and the socks were only $1.00. Once I had those on in additon to my other garments, I was warm enough and rationality returned, to me.

So here's an important safety message for all the Druidry in these parts. If its really cold and windy outside and yer going to ride around in a motor boat, be sure to have on plenty of warm clothes. Do this even if you think you have lost your wallet, maybe, while you are packing up for the trip. Cause if you get too cold, you won't be able to think.

Get yourself some of those green pants. They are reasonably priced, a nice color and very warm.

Ray's Thought for the Day

As is usual during this particular time of our journey on the semi-great circle we are goin' off on an adventure. Soooooo, Action may take precedent over Thought for a little while.

Here's a song that dogs really like, but most humans and even some proto humans find annoying. It may be the repetition that annoys the primates. If you would like to have a CD of me, Ray singing this song fer yer dogs, send about a hunerd dollars cash to Red Ears at RGVECB.

Little Dogs in a Little While

little dogs in a little while
little dogs in a little while

little dogs in a little while
little dogs in a little while

little dogs in a little while
little dogs in a little while

little dogs in a little while
little dogs in a little while

etc.
_____
PS

Fer an extra fifty, I can intersperse some coyote imitations, fer ye, but the coyote imitations do not have the same calming effects on the dogs as the rest of the song, does. And then fer an additional sawbuck we will glue a copy of the picture located immediately east of this text to the CD cover. But that's not all you may get. As a big additional bonus you may also get to hear me, Ray sing "They Run Around all over Town, But They Never Take Their Woolies Down" a very popular tune in these parts.

By the way, that very valuable picture noted somewhere previously shows not only a simulation of me, Ray in my coyote metamorphosis, but some curly mesquite prairie at the CB and also that somebody in these parts didn't police up all the empties.

Ray on The Adventures of Etain

I, Ray would like to have a Scarlet Fly er two. The sight of one of them nourishes a person and its buzzing puts one to sleep after a weary day. Also, if anyone should try and sneak up on me while I was sleeping that did not love me, my Fly would awaken me. All these attributes of these particular Flies seem entirely useful, to me. Especially since I am prone to having an intermittently nervous disposition, though I would hasten to add that I am normally placid. It does indeed seem like having a Scarlet Fly could have the effect of making me continuously placid as opposed to intermittently placid.

Hope, does Nancy market any Scarlet Flies?

No, I'm so sorry Ray. I'm afraid the only flies Nancy vends are those ones in the ice cubes and they don't buzz. However, I'm sure if you looked high and low you could maybe find a Scarlet Fly somewhere. Or perhaps you could adopt a kitten. They buzz, sort of. Or perhaps you could adopt a puppy and a kitten for a puppy will awaken you if anyone approaches whether they love you or are just sneaking up on you. Or perhaps you could adopt a skunk and keep it with you always.

Why would I want to adopt a skunk?

I believe they go off when they are startled and that would possibly alert you to the danger of some evil doer sneaking up when you are sleeping. That would be helpful, wouldn't it?

Wouldn't the skunk odour get on me too?

Perhaps the first few times it would Ray. But I bet you could train the skunk over time to point away from you when it goes off.

Hmph. You know I talked to a skunk a while back and it seemed a reasonable fellow, but I don't know if it would consider being adopted. It seemed to be about its own business pretty seriously and we barely got through our bye yer leaves before it went snuffling along on its way. Those skunks seem kind of individualistic. I'm not sure a skunk would want to be a pet.

Well Ray, you are possibly aware that there are several different kinds of skunks and some may be more sociable than others. Then too, you might find a particular skunk that really likes you and would be willing to help you out. I suggest that if you wish to pursue this solution to your dilemma, you should try to make the acquaintance of a great many skunks and see which one might suit your needs and be agreeable to a pet-like arrangement.

Yepper, maybe. But I still would rather have a Fly.

Then I hope you find one Ray. Just remember, there's always hope.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Agonizing Archaeology

All righty then. I, Ray Pistrum have, in lieu of engaging with an onerous task that much offends me, an activity that has its roots in shoat skitter wrangling in fact, have opted to do the forthcoming, for the nonce, alternatively.

As previously noted, I intended to re-read the article with the amusing subtitle “The Agonizing Dilemma of Modern Archaeology”. Now I have done just that, re-read it. So now I believe myself as ready as I’ll ever be, to spell further. In fact, I intend to completely spell my guts out on this particular subtopic so that the spell will then be complete and I will have done with it, forever. Oh, by the way, the title of the article is “Science, Social Science and Common Sense”, by R.C. Dunnell.

Archaeology, as I understand the term is a systematic study of human and proto human artifacts, perhaps to include evidence of human or proto human impacts to their environments of a non-artifactual nature. I include the latter in deference to an archaeologist colleague who studies snail shells found at archaeological sites. I’ve been meaning to ask if any of those snail shells had human bite marks on them, but this may be crossing over into cultural anthropology or some such related field and I don’t want to raise a fuss.

Now I, Ray the normally curious, have never had the slightest interest in human artifacts. I don’t even find valuable antiques interesting. But that’s all just personal prejudice, for my focus has historically been elsewhere. However, when Rayetta and me were wandering the countryside for all those years, ornithologizing and botanizing and naturalizing in general, we discovered that one could fluff up a plant list by checking out the vicinity of historic human habitations because of the propensity of humans to surround those habitations with botanical oddities from foreign parts. That’s how we first made the acquaintance of (Zizyphus zizyphus) formerly (Zizyphus jujube), or just jujube. (Why is it that changes in scientific nomenclature trend to becoming less, instead of more, interesting?) Apparently. this phenomena of finding odd plants in the vicinity of human habitations also may apply to prehistoric humans as well. For example, wild tobaccos, Nicotiana species, often turn up in the immediate vicinity of rock shelters, although, come to think of it, smoking, bygone Native Americans may be only one hypothesis potentially accounting for such a distributional pattern. And Great Goddess, what might an ethno-botanical study of the distributional pattern of big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) conclude a hundred years from now if sample points included the immediate environs of the homesteads of the Druidry in these parts.

Yikes! I spelled hypothesis. Yikes!

Why is it that everyone engaged in a systematic study of something or other wants to be called a scientist? Perhaps, back when all this agonizing was on-going among the archaeologists, a scientist had more potential access to other peoples’ resources than they do now, so the archaeologists felt obliged to be scientists if they were going to compete with scientists for funding. In hindsight, with the passage of the National Antiquities Act, this problem went away because instead of having to become scientists, archaeologists could find employment as participants in cultural resource management, just as hoards of sort of biologists became integrated into various facets of natural resource management. I know lots of archaeologists who are cultural resource managers in one sense or another. In fact, those are the only kind I do know.

So if you are an archaeologist working in the general vicinity of cultural resource manager, you spend all your time and energy trying to protect the antiquities you know about, while simultaneously cataloging the ones you don’t know about, keeping one step ahead of the bulldozer. This aint science, but it may be generally useful in a societal sense and could be interesting, I surmise, at least some of the time.

But getting back to, or perhaps on to, that article. There were several terms used that I could not figure out the context of the use. The first of these was the author’s use of the term, nomothetic, as in “When the idea of archaeology as a nomothetic science first appeared as an explicit goal, its advocates were few.” Hmmm. Archaeology did not in those days attempt to foist abstract, universal statements of law on an incomprehending public with regard to the systematic digging up of artifacts. That’s a bad thing?

Then there’s the troubling “It is precisely for this reason that I have argued for a phenomenological/ideational distinction in formulating a scientific archaeology.” After reading this statement, I realized this was a joke article much like a similar article published years ago in some dubious wildlife journal that purported to detail black bear behavior resulting from exposure of the black bears to used tampons. The joke hypothesis was confirmed further along when the subtopic common sense was broached, but immediately and unfairly shifted to a discussion of common senses.

Now, I am tired out by this particular spell and can spell no more, on it. Furthermore, even spelling on it to begin with shows that I am less a Man of Action than the Crumby Ovate, or even, Goddess Bless, Rayetta.
______
It really pisses me off that ornithologizing is not a real word. Well, we’ll soon see about that just like we’ll soon see about a lot of stuff that aint right.

Ray Pistrum
____

Go Ray!

Hope
_____

It's nice to see that Ray and Hope are getting along and cooperating.

The Arkdruid

Ray's Thought for the Day - Where'd They Go?

Last night I was makin' a resolute effort to keep my chin up while reading an article from the Journal of Anthropological Research. That particular article, a 1996 reprint originally publbished in 1982, has the subtitle "The Agonizing Dilemma of Modern Archaeology". If I can fit it to my busy schedule, I shall read that article again today, for it tugged at my heartstrings. Apparently the archaeologists of that time and place were troubled about whether archaeology is scientific. Some of them apparently wanted to be scientists, but some of them apparently didn't care if they were scientists or not, and some of them wanted to be different kinds of scientists than others. So far that's all I've figured out, maybe, or remember about that article, which is why la, la, la.

Anyway, since I may have found a arrowhead or two during this iteration and I actually read most of "Stonehenge Decoded" by G.S. Hawkins, I know about as much about archaeology as the numerous experts in landscape ecology that can reliably identify less than 10 plants species know about the environment. So I am an expert on this general subtopic and feel obliged to spell about it now and perhaps anon, after I re-read that article, maybe.

So what happened to all the blue stones that are missing from Stonehenge? According to Mr. Hawkins, at least by inference, a great many of them have been hauled off because they were there at the site at one time, but now they are not at the site. Where'd they go? These are substantial stones that, unless they were busted up in situ and then hauled off, should be easy to track down. Britain is fairly little, tales spell,and it should be easy to find great big stones in such a little countryside. Is there any evidence that some of them were busted up in situ? That should be detectable. Right?

So what I would do if I was an archaeologist in Britian is, I would spend my entire life and other peoples' resources in tracking down those missing stones, assuming they didn't get busted up. Then I would make sure that every last one of the intact ones got put back where it's supposed to go. If a castle or two needed to be pulled down to get at those stones, so much the better.
_____

to be revised anon by Ray Pistrum, maybe, and don't miss the next iteration of "The Adventures of Etain".

Ray's Thought for the Day

Perhaps, it should be called little redstem (Schizachryium rhodostemeo). This is what the camera saw when me and the camera were sitting in it at the CB. It seems redder than usual this year.

Crumby Ovate on The Adventures of Etain

The job of ovates is to memorize stuff. Once enough stuff is memorized the next job for ovates is too discern patterns. That's what ovates do, memorize and discern patterns. Even the stupidest ovates can do these jobs with the help of the WG because if the ovate is a good boy or girl, She will hep out with comforting dreams, revelations and epiphanies. That bit of Druid reiteration out of the way, here's some more. It's all about patterns.

If you were a big shot, say King Ailill of the Ulaid, and you had something that all the boys wanted; the most enchanting, beautiful, graceful, lovely, wonderful, variable, diversely intriguing daughter that anyone had ever seen, ever, what would it take for you to part, with her? For after she is gone, you will have no recourse and you will be stuck with what you traded her for.

Time has a way of slippin' by, over the ruts of our lives it will fly, and if you don't love me now, set me free, for old memories mean nothing to me.

Maybe Ailill had a thought like that a time or two after he traded Etain.

What dowry did Ailill obtain, for the Ulaid? Easy that,

Twelve lands that are nothing but "desert" and forest are to be cleared so that cattle may graze on them and men dwell there at all times, so that they may be suitable for games and assemblies and meetings and fortifications. Twelve great rivers also shall be diverted from the land to the sea that are in springs and bogs and moors.

And what dowry did Ailill obtain for Ailill? Easy that,

Etain's weight in gold and silver.

Reckon how much gold and silver we are talkin' about here? Not easy to assay that.

In 1647 the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland recommended that the old religion (Druidry), which was allegedly believed by spokesmen of the General Assembly to have survived "Pope Worship" or "Popery" or "Papism", should be finally rooted out from the Scots hinterlands. In 1649, the church program for eradicating the last vestiges of paganism was launched. The method of attack was tripartite.

1) expansion of the parochial schools into the backwoods, a Bible in every household and the "inmates" taught to read

2) banning of the holiday fire festivals at Samuin, Beltane, etc.

3)cultivation of all the old places which had continued for thousands of years, untilled and which were thought to provide habitat for faeries and suchlike

It is 3) that interests the Druidry in these parts, these days. Because apparently, the same land speculators that were running the Church of Scotland in those days have now turned up here in Texas.
_____

Yikes!

The Adventures of Etain

to be continued

Rayetta on "The Adventures of Etain"

Lo and behold, I, Rayetta have not led an idle life. On the other hand, I have been workin', as in detectin'.

First for Hope, the spells of Fuamnach are no spooky Goddess Magic. Who came with Fuamnach to the House of Mider to protect her? Easy that, besides the Dagdae, came Lug and Ogmae Sunface. Who are these latter two? Easy that, Sungods! So we see that Fuamnach is a heretic, actually a surrogate heretic, manipulated by men to assault the WG as manifested in Her iteration, Etain. Truly, the Druidry of those times in that place avowed wickedness. They were wicked, wicked, wicked. But the WG has got them now and they are paying dearly for their wickedness.
____

Oh WG, I'm so sorry I was bad.

I am the WG and I don't believe you are sincere. Actually, I think you are lying and that you are not sorry at all. I do, however, think you are sorry that you got caught. And since you persist with this insincerity, you can gradually rot some more for a great long while. Now I must away for your odour much offends me.

Nooooooo! Please don't leave me here to rot. Sob. I am truly sorry.
_____

But of course, it's too late. For the WG has gone on to other important duties and totally forgotten about that particular, rotting, worm infested sinner.
_____

Next for Brother Ray, and his curiosity on the subtopic, sizes. To begin, Mider is so beautiful that his beauty astonishes onlookers. Sooooooo, I think we may be capable of deciding that Mider was the handsomest man in Eriu, personal preferences and minor disputations fulminating from ignorance and vulgarity aside. That settled, what was the size of Mider's head, and by inference the size of the scarlet fly. Easy that, the sizes could vary in time and space so that on one occasion Mider's head or the scarlet fly could appear larger and on another occasion, diminutive.

Certain it is Ray, that you should know this truth, from personal anatomical experience.
______

"The Adventures of Etain"

to be continued

Adventures II - Well, I Swan!

Goodness gracious sakes alive. What a foolish fellow am I. Fortunately, no harm has been done by this particular foolishness, unless to briefly stay my march to glory. I have just made such a happy discovery. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Yep, the Goddess smiled on me just now. Yepper, all righty then, you betchum.

What's the inner diameter of the tubes on my Roosian dissecting microscope the eyepieces fit in. Ha! Easy that, about 32mm. What does 32mm equal. Easy that, about 1.25". Do you know what that means? Welllllllllllll. Do you know? Do you believe in the Power of the Goddess?

I do and that's why wonderful events occur, fer me. That's why I have revelations and epiphanies and interesting dreams. That's why my telescope eyepieces will fit in my Roosian microscope. I already tried one in it and that particular 25 mm plossl worked like a champ. Oh happy days, oh happy days.

This also means that my 5, that's correctomundo, 5 Roosian microscope eyepieces will also fit in the telescopes and one of those is a reticle eyepiece. I can now grid the sky though I don't know why, I'd want to. Hold it. Maybe I might want to grid the spheres. Yepper. Maybe I would.

But better yet. Har, har, har, har, har, har, har, har, har, har! Yip! Yip!

I can take pictures with my digital camera through the dissecting microscope and all the telescopes with a single group of gizmos, some of which are already in the posession of RGVECB.

Yepper, the WG loves me, fer sure.

Ray's Thought for the Day

The Seed Collectin' Song

Seed collectin's lotsa fun
makes ye think yer full Injun
out on the ROW, gatherin up
different kinds of seed

what did we gather today let's see
muhlys two kinds fer company
out on the ROW, gatherin up
different kinds of seed

what else did we gather today let's see
gayfeather, little goldenrod,
dropseeds, a grama and long spike tridens
lotsa fun

lotsa fun
now we know new places
all these can grow to be
not on the ROW but at the old CB

native seed native seed
native spells chase the weeds
_____

Whoa! Where's that Bouteloua? It's separated itself, from me. Where's that dang Bouteloua? I think it's probably B. barbata, but where'd it go? Is it still in the car? Did I drop it? Dad gum it!

This Ol' Kitty

This ol kitty is 13 years old, at least. He apparently thinks he has it made, set up with that bowl of delicious crunchy victuals. And look at that nice kitty door for ingress egress. But what does this ol kitty have to look forward to outside, in his other kitty dish?
Easy that, a slimy slug, a tawny garden slug (Limax flavus) to be specific. This is one of at least two introduced slugs in the Austin area and yet another reason for you not to move here. These tawny ones also like to crawl into baby cribs at night and, oh no, I can't spell what they do! It's too gusdusting.

Hope on "The Adventures of Etain"

This is most curious and yet I can make little sense, of it. For Etain has little or no adventure, but it is Mider or his surrogate Oegnus perhaps that does most of the adventuring perchance. Goodness. Well, I presume that becoming a fly is something of an adventure. These transmigrations are odd though. First a pool of water, then a maggot, then a fly. This is not very nice at all. The water heats up to make the maggot! Yikes! Too much like invertebrate lab, fer me, not at all like unto one of Nancy's grow yer whatevers. I never knew one of Nancy's whatevers to do a metamorphosis either. This business with Etain is Goddess Magic. Spooky Goddess Magic, maybe, by someone not supposed to be spelling with it. How did Fuamnach learn to do that, the spells, and the motivation to learn those spells? The tales spell she had trainin' from Bresal. But why would he teach her such spells, that should be left to the WG. Those Tuatha are something else again, maybe.

Another troubling aspect of all this is the silence of Etain. I Hope, would have squeaked plenty if all this had happened, to me. Metamorphed by a stranger into a fly, blown hither and yon all over Eriu, swallowed for Goddess Sake out of tumbler by another stranger, then born again, a panoply of crazy boyfriends and husbands all trying to steal me away from the others, what a very nearly hopeless scenario and yet nary a squeak from Etain. Is she just a dumb blonde, or what, enigmatic?

Hope in enigma, there's a concept, fer ye.
_______

Er Hope. I, Ray would like to interject something that I believe is important about this adventurous tale.

All right Ray. I need to stop and think for the nonce anyway.

All righty then. Ladies and the Crumby Ovate. I have discovered something about all this that aint right. You know when Etain as the Scarlet Fly falls into the golden vessel situated in Etar's hand and then Etar drinks off the golden vessel and swallows Etain not knowing there is a fly in her drink. Well my point is, how the heck did Etar happen to miss a fly in her drink as big as the handsomest man in Eriu's head. That's mighty strange, to me. How big a head are we discussin' here? Was Etar a giantess with a tub fer a tumbler? Or was the handsomest man in Eriu a wondrous tiny person, or perhaps a regular sized person with a really tiny head?

Good point Ray. I recall when my old granny swallowed a June bug with her ice tea. That particular coincidence jump started a fuss, and granny sure knew she had gulped down a June bug and everybody in those parts at that time knew it, too.

All righty you two. Stop that chortling and sniggering. It's not funny when someone swallows a June bug. June bug swallowing is a Potential Safety Topic - environmental hazard and you Crumby, of all people, should know that better than anyone. Nevertheless, Ray's questions are not easy to answer. And Hope's conjectures are also puzzling. We should sleep on it and ask the WG her opinions.

All righty then.

All righty then.
_____

The Adventures of Etain, a collective endeavor by RGVECB

to be continued

_____

I thought it was a collaborative effort?

Noper. Collective endeavor.

Noper, it got spelled first as a collaborative effort!

Jeez Louise, it's the same difference. Now go to bed!

All righty then.

All righty then.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Blue Sky natural soda waters are delicious. I particularly like the truly orange and the raspberry ones. Perhaps the Blue Sky Soda Water Company would like to have me, Ray Pistrum as their spokesperson. I could then tell everyone how delicious their particular soda waters are.

Another company I would have no problem advertising for is Lazy Boy. I have two Lazy Boy recliners. One of them is brown and the other one is tan. I have always felt better sitting in those particular Lazy Boy recliners that in any other chairs anywhere, anytime.

Another product that I really like is my Nikon 10x42 SE binoculars. I can see out of those particular binoculars very well. And speaking of optical products, all RGVECB endorses the University Optics lines of Konig and Orthoscopic telescope eyepieces. They are most excellent for discerning stray chickens from ducks at far distances.

Then there are those cinnamon buns I get almost every Saturday, but I can't ever remember the name of the vendor. Nevertheless, I endorse those cinnamon buns.

And let's not forget the Golden Field Guide series of field guides, especially the out of print one concerning Amphibians. I lost my personal copy of that field guide on some halfwit outing long ago, but I still recall that field guide fondly.

These are all products I, Ray Pistrum recommend unreservedly. If any of the vendors of these products could find it in their obviously magnanimous hearts to send me some money, I should wax still more unreserved in my praise, extolling the virtues of these products, shamelessly.

Oh, I just thought of another one, Negra Modelo ale. Those Negra Modelos are almost as delicious as Dolmen Stouts.

And one more, a recent acquisition, is the Celestron heavy duty alt/az tripod which I have only got to use once, but I can tell from that one experience that I can also recommend it without shame.
______

The Adventures of Etain

Etain was the most beautiful human or proto human manifestation of the WG in the old Eriu of her day. For that reason, and not the less because she came of a good family, (her father Ailill was King of the Ulaid), Etaine was much sought after as a wife, even by those who were not mere mortals. Besides her heart-rending beauty, Etain had these characteristics; she was the most graceful server at table to have ever been seen, ever, and she was a fair nurse. And as if all that was not sufficient, consider the fact that even when Etain was transformed into a large fly, she made all the boys feel swell.
______

All righty Ray. That is quite enough.

Huh? I'm just gettin' started, tyin' up loose ends, as it were.

Um hmmmmmmmmm. But aren't you forgetting that "The Adventures of Etain" was to be a collaborative effort. Several of us wish to participate, and here you have begun without us.

Well not actually, I was just spelling out loud.

Yes you were doing just that Ray, spelling out loud without the rest of us. And I suppose you know a great deal about Etain?

Easy that, quite a bit!

Don't take that tone with me Ray. Nancy will send along something worse than a bosom asp just to yer attention if ye continue in that tone.

She will?

Yepper, fer sure. Now let's all sit down for some nice treats and discuss this like civilized Druids.

_____

The Adventures of Etain, a Collaborative Effort by RGVECB

to be continued

Adventures II - Political Commentary is Boring to Read

Also, if you read it and disagree with it, you may be annoyed. But since this venue is for my emergencies, not yours, much like my cell phone, so what.

In the male comfort station at the Deep Eddy Cabaret, a bar that I have frequented infrquently since Heck was a pup, there is written on the wall in what appears to be Sharpie indelible the spell "Being a conservative means you don't have to care about anything." Of course, designations other than conservative have been marked out, but that's what was there last Friday night when my beer soaked, maudlin self wound up in that comfort station, comforting myself.

The spell indicated above is not especially interesting so I will get back to it in a minute. But first I need to touch on the very interesting comfort station spells that were on display at Texas A&M University (TAMU) during my tenure in those hallowed halls. Those spells were very interesting because, extraordinarily, a great many of them featured the subtopic, bestiality. Perhaps this should not surprise, because TAMU is a land grant college and still, to this very day, although with much less empahsis than afore, retains some bucolic charm.

Anyway, lots of the graffiti over there at that time featured commentary and illustration in support of having sex with domesticated animals. Some of the illustrations were clever and showed evidence of creativity in the vicinity of how to. I regret to this day that I didn't take the time to photograph some of that bestiality graffiti so I would have it now to share with everyone. Perhaps, I will go back to those hallowed halls and see if any of it remains, or if that tradition continues, and this time I will have the digital camera handy. Baaaaaah! We are in danger of losing so much of our cultural history. And now, with bird flu drills in the White House, whatever will become of our long love affair with the chicken.

But back to the boring political graffiti. Unlike you, probably, I am intensely curious about the spell "Being a conservative means you don't have to care about anything." I am intensely curious regarding the motivations of the author. Is he using conservatism as a cover for his own nihilism? Does he really believe conservatives don't care about anything? Is he condemning/extolling them?

Jeez Louise, I just noticed how great it is to refer to the masculine tense and not have to fret over it. Of course, I am assuming that a woman didn't sneak into the male comfort station and write that particular spell.

Penultimately, what do I personally think of the spell? Well, it was on a comfort station wall and thus received some readership, so that's a good thing. But then, is my response to the spell what the author intended? Am I doing now precisely what he wanted me to do as a result of my encountering his spell? Cosmic questions these!

Finally, here's my spell. The rich and powerful who describe themselves as conservatives are merely rich and powerful. So they do what they want with few constraints. In a democracy, it is the duty of the rest of us to constrain them, as best we can.

Adventures II - Commodities

What do we have at this park? Well, at this park we have the natural and cultural history of this particular patch of the land on display, maybe. We also have what's here now in this time and place on display, maybe.

Many moons past there was a woodcock fooling around in the woods at Palmetto State Park. I was lucky enough to get to watch it for a minute or two. I never forgot that particular woodcock because it was the first one I ever saw. If I went back over there now, I might be able to find the very spot I saw that woodcock, maybe. Maybe I will do just that.

Just a few moons past I was talking with another old man as we were hiking along intermittently at a good pace, still, who recalled the only fire (it was apparently set by kids messing around) that broke out in his neck of the woods within recent memory. The place that burned is now part of a preserve for the Golden-cheeked Warbler, but it wasn't a preserve back then, many moons past. So after the fire he went out on the place to fool around and look at stuff because he was curious to see what the fire had done. And to record his adventure, he hefted a big chunk of Glen Rose limestone on to a burned juniper stump and there it reposed to that very day.

What's any of this worth? We Druids get that question a lot, from those who would feature natural history as a commodity. Do you think people would pay to come here and see a woodcock? If not a woodcock, what would they pay to come and see? Find something they would pay to come and see! Because if you don't find something, we are going to sell this park!

Sadly, these questions come from those who care enough to ask. The really forward thinkers don't ask these questions. They only look at blueprints and clocks. They are in a big hurry. Their question is, How long will it take to sweep all these obstacles out of my way? I have a plan of action! Time is money!

It's not easy to argue that a burnt up juniper stump or a woodcock is worth more than a plan of action. Noper.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Four maybe five. That seems a rather large number given the context. I should have asked more questions right then while I had the chance. Jeez Louise, I missed the opportunity to explore a really interesting subtopic.

But never mind that for the nonce.

I, Ray have been instructed to clear the deck, so that's precisely what I will be doing, fer awhile. There is much deck clearing to do, and I will clear the deck anon. I will begin just as soon as I am calmed down. The cleared deck will have room for new stuff to be put on the deck because it will be clear of the old stuff. So now I must evaluate the old stuff and see what I want to do with it. That's what I have to do first in the deck clearing process. Hopefully this deck clearing won't take too much of my valuable time and won't interfere with my cinnamon bun tomorrow.

Actually, clear the deck may be a poor metaphor. What I really mean is that I need to tie up loose ends. Yepper. That way, what's on deck now will be bundled up and there will be more room for new stuff without actually clearing the deck. Because clearing the deck might piss someone off at me. So tying up loose ends is a lot better solution and metaphor, maybe.

Let me see. What loose ends need tying up? I shall have to backtrack and discover where we unraveled various stuff. What was spelled and what was left unspelled?

Yikes. Enough of this silliness. It's time to win a war. But first, a nice rest.
____

Noper. Too tired to rest. Too exhausted in the noggin. What I need to do is foretell a bit. In the next little while, perhaps tomorrow after I have had my cinnamon bun, or the next day after I have thoroughly digested my cinnamon bun, I will go and look at some birds, long distance, with the RGVECB telescopery apparatii. The further off those birds are, in line of sight, the better.

Now let's see. This could be a serious expedition, miles away from the Cow Barn, so I will probably need to take along some extra underwears. How much of the apparatii gets to go along? Easy that, all of it. Lomo can come along too and help pack it around. Hold it. I was supposed to do something botanical anon also. Lucky, fer me, the Crumby Ovate is now available to assume a portion of these myriad responsibilities. He might even finish that dang CB plant list fer me, Goddess Willing. That's just what the CO needs now, another nice nerve tonic of a plant list to work on while I, Ray also have a short rest, ornithologically speaking.

Self Amuse

This medium certainly does lend itself to tickling yerself silly. But anon, and after a weekend of clarifications, Goddess Willing, I, the Crumby Ovate, and with the hep of the WG and Ray's cooperation, and with the full authority of RGVECB, shall spell away from self amuse somewhat. For on this globe there's phenomena funnier than me, to me.

The Blood Red Men Who Lied to the Shee Queen

How would you like to be blood red all over, even yer teeth, hair and fingernails? How would you like yer clothes to be all blood red, and yer car too, inside and out, everywhere? There you'd be, blood red, and all ye could do, ever, is drive around in yer blood red car.

Brrrrrrrrr!

It's actually purty cold today, but not so cold that it's freezin' the horns off the Billy goats.

Some must venture forth anon. Some must not. Some must contend with the pangs of indecision.

Crumby Ovate is among those who must contend with the pangs of indecision.

Should he go or should he stay
What will other people say

The Crumby Ovate can take the 4x peecup out in the cold. That particular peecup has a heater. Also, because that peecup is 4x, he has a better chance of contending with potential icy conditions on the thoroughfares than if it wasn't 4x, maybe. That's the theory, anyway. Also, he doesn't have to go very far, 8-9 miles, maybe. However, on one occasion it took the CO 1.5 hours, approximately, to go that far over precisely the same route he is contemplatin' this mornin', while laborin' in the pangs of indecision.

The pangs of indecision are similar to, but not identical with, the Labour Pains of the Ulaid, which were spelled under a a previous subtopic. How are they similar? Easy that, they both keep a Man of Action, inert.

Brrrrr!

The Crumby Ovate has been out scrapin' ice off the CB motor pool vehicles. Due to his Manly Action, together with the efficiency of the vehicle defroster devices, some have departed. The CO may himself depart anon. Unless he becomes distracted.

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Cow Barn Needs a Canary

The Crumby Ovate and I, Ray have decided we require a canary er two. We might, we have also decided, even require more than two. Fer canaries are cheerful little birds that sing well and often. Hence the expression, sing like a canary.

In addition to their abilities to carry a tune, canaries are, much like shrews, overtly respondent to environmental perturbations. Principally, they are employed in this capacity as methane gas detectors, dropping dead off their perches from the most minuscule exposures.

With regard to this latter characteristic I, Ray am evolving a plan to dispel Hope. What I am going to do is use a canary to expose her wickedness. This is the plan I have. When she goes to sleep I will sneak into her room and put the canary in its cage next to her bed. Then when she farts, that particular fart will kill my pet canary. Then I will cry aloud to everyone, "Hope has killed my pet canary! She has murdered my poor little bird who only ever wanted to sing his heart out for joy and happiness! And now he's dead!"
_______

Ray most assuredly will not do such a dastardly deed, maybe. In any event, a day of reckoning is just around the corner. Never forget, never forgive, always do payback.

The Arkdruid

What's Ray Doin'?

I don't know Ray. That may not be very scary.

Ooooooo! Oooooooooooooo!

Cut it out Ray, yer not scarin' me. It looks like yer bein' arrested by a telescope.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Also, those underwears have a bunch of holes in 'em. You know we're supposed to only use the underwears that get holes in 'em, fer rags.

Move Over Ray

Move over Ray Pistrum. Move over Ray Pistrum. Move over Ray Pistrum. Yer in my way.

Today, let it be recorded in the annals of RGVECB that I, Crumby Ovate succumbed to being creeped out and quit my job. I am, fer the nonce, umemployed. But as has been discussed previously under a variety of subtopics, I, Crumby Ovate, am a Man of Action. So after this spell is completed I will be fixing to take a bath and go to bed. Just always remember!

If you were a newt you wouldn't give a hoot, you'd never have to bathe.
You'd be in the water. You'd be in the water.

And thematically speaking, If you were a bear, covered up with hair, you'd never have to shave.

Actually, I have to go back to that job each day through the upcomin' Friday. But after that I can relax and wear my Fruities O the Loom on my head where they belong, fer a nonce er two. Ye probably know how ye can fix the leg holes over yer eyes so ye can see out, maybe. Right Ray?

That's right CO. But what I really like to do is put my arms through the leg holes and pull the crotch over my face. Then I make oooo, oooo noises and scare everone.

Jeez Louise, Ray. We got to get a picture of ye doin' that.

All righty then. Let's do 'er. Boy howdy.
______

And the moon rises over the bosom companions, Ray Pistrum and Crumby Ovate.

Ray's Thought for the Day

These Yorenited States require an independent Civil Service dedicated to the enforcement of laws and rules. Otherwise, the rich and powerful will be putting stuff in the peanut butter, like groundup glass, maybe.

Sir, why did you put that ground up glass in the peanut butter?

I was just recyclin' it baby, you know recyclin' to hep the environment.

Well sir, just for puttin' ground up glass in the peanut butter, but more particularly for lyin' about why you did it, we are going to send you to prison, confiscate yer property and auction yer family off in Saudi Arabia. What do you say to that?

Boo hoo hoo. I sure am sorry I got caught.
_____

Then too I have been thinking about asbestos for some reason or other. If ye fool around with asbestos ye might get bestasstus. Oh my goodness. This is the bestasstus in the whole wide world.
_____

Another thought I had today concerned the practice of raking leaves. Once I was in the company of several adult men, myself an adult man among them, and we were all raking leaves. The leaves were falling from the trees almost as fast as we could rake 'em up and some of 'em were blowing off the piles of leaves we had already raked. This led one of the men, who called himself Robert, to distinguish himself from the rest of us, to foretell, "Ye caint get 'em all." And sure enough, he was right.
_____

Ray did not think the above up all by himself. Ray had hep.

The Arkdruid

Preserving the Color of Specimink Plants

I found this today in Collecting and Preseving Plants and Animals by J.W. Knudsen, 1966.

Paraphrasing - Make color notes when you collect the plant. However, Scully (1937) gives a recipe for preseving colors if you want to try. Place specimink in a vial with a 5% copper subflate solution for 24 hours to set the color. Remove the specimink and wash it several times. then put the specimink in a vial containing 16 cc of sulfuric acid and 21 grams of sodium sulfite in 1000 cc of water. This works well on yellow flowers, but less well on pink, blue, red or purple ones.

There's another recipe on the same page for chlorophyll retention, but the chemical names are too tedius to spell here.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Today, and for the first time ever, maybe, the Crumby Ovate is here intrudin' on my thought for the day and we are gonna share a thought together. Welcome Crumby Ovate.

Hey. Ray. Did you do that spell on naughty Druidesses? I got to know.

Sure don't remember doin' it. You betchum I sure thought it though after that event with the bosom asp. Was that mean or what? Jeez Louise.

I don't know Ray. Somebody spelled that out and Red's the only sleep speller in these parts and he didn't do it.

I, Ray don't remember doin' it. Maybe you did it. Yer hysterical this time of year. Maybe you did it due to prolonged hysteria.

Hmmm. Maybe I did do it. Anyway, I want to help spell about Etain. OK.

Sure. Seems like the whole CB wants in on this one. The more the merrier I say and less work for Ray.

Ray Returns

Hey there Lomo ol buddy. Que paso?

Rayetta say come see Rayetta.

And where might her ladyship be ensconced for the nonce?

All ladies in den.

Um hmm. Did Rayetta say why she wants to see me, perchance?

No.

Um hmm. Well all righty then. Here I go, to the den.

Pistol packin pooters pack them pistols round
pistol packin pooters pistol cracks resound

Ray stop mutterin' and hummin ' around out there and get in here. We have somewhat to discuss with ye.

Yes'm.

Ray can you explain yer spell of early this morning fer everyone?

What spell would that be?

Don't play dumb Ray, you know very well what spell?

Actually, I don't remember any spell at all from early this morning. My thought for the day has been delayed by other chores.

No. No spell about naughty Druidesses. You don't remember that particular spell?

Naughty Druidesses? Can't say I do. But I might add that that one sittin' over there, Hope, qualifies in that category?

Nonsense Ray, that business with the asp was just to teach you a lesson. Now stop changin' the subject. Look here's yer spell of this mornin', spelled out, with yer name on it and the date.

I see. Well there are some obvious possibilites to account for this documink.

1) It is a forgery.
2) I did it subconciously and can not be held accountable.

Ray just admit you did this spell.

No. I didn't do it. It's not my fault. And if I did do it I was asleep.

Ray, after giving this spell some thought we think it's a good idea and we want to help you with the Adventures of Etain.

You do?

Yeppers, we do. We will all have lotsa fun spelling about Etain together.

We will?

Ray, you really should try not to repeat everything. Now run along and do your thought for the day. It's getting late.

Rayetta's Discovery of the Morning

Yikes! Clearly, Ray requires watchin', 24/7. Hmmm. What's he up to here? Fuamnach, scarlet fly, Hope, bosom asp, naughty Druidesses! Whoa, the subtopic "naughty Druidesses" is fixing to get nipped in the bud this minute.

RAY

RA - AY

Lomo do you know where Ray is?

Ray go Phillips 66 to seek inspiration from Great Goddess. Also buy gas.

Okie Dokie. Well when he gets back, if you see him before I do, tell Ray that his sister is looking for him. OK.

Lomo tell Ray, OK.

Etain

The Adventures of Etain are confusing to the Druidry in these parts. But we shall undertake to spell of them anon, heedless of our confusion. Perhaps the truth will spell out.

This scarlet fly was the size of the head of the handsomest man in the land, and the sound of its voice and the beating of its wings were sweeter than pipes and harps and horns. Its eyes shone like precious stones in the dark and its color and fragrance could sate hunger and quench thirst in any man; moreover, a sprinkling of drops it shed from its wings could cure every sickness and affliction and disease.

Yikes! The first time Red told this story I was totally creeped out. Cause a Druidess of the Tuatha, Fuamnach, caused this scarlet fly to be. And that particular Druidess was especially naughty. What bothers me especially about this is the coincidence of insects and naughty Druidesses then and now, the other naughty one being Hope with her pet bosom asps.

Wide Awake Ray

Ray has Shown the Way

and in tribute to the normally placid Ray,

The Good Bye to Shoat Skitters Song

Good bye to shoat skitter wranglin'
Farewell to temporary tails
I'm gonna go away and leave you lay
Never gonna smell you any
Never gonna smell you any

I'm gonna shuck off these rubber boots
I'm gonna throw away my pail
I'm gonna bury all my overalls
Never gonna sniff em any
Never gonna sniff em any

I'm gonna take the clothes pin off my nose
I'm gonna take a bath
I'm gonna wink at every sphincter blink
Never gonna step and fetch it
Never gonna step and fetch it

I'm gonna ride upon a faerie boat, never to return again

So it's goodbye, farewell, stink on forever
Goodbye my fine shoat skitters
Goodbye my fine shoat skitters
Goodbye my dollar and my di- i -ime

Ray's Thought for the Day

Inquiring minds want to know what is meant by the spell, shoat skitter wrangler (ssw). Is the spell metaphorical or is it something else again? Easy that, ssw is metaphorical as well as something else again depending on the cirumstances. If yer standing in yer wellies on a hot day hosing the skitters along the parlor floor and in the general direction of the shoat skitter lagoon, that is something else again. If you merely have tasks to do at yer job that are very similar too, but not exactly like that, the spell is metaphorical.

I Ray, am very, very happy that I am not a shoat skitter wrangler in a metaphorical or in a something else again capacity. You may recall the recent bad scare I got on that very subtopic, having to resume wranglin'. Noper, wranglins not for me.

But onto a more pleasant topic, cinnamon buns. It is my custom to go to the Farmer's Market on Saturday mornin' to purchase a cinnamon bun for myself. The particular cinnamon buns that I purchase suit my palate perfectly. They are delicious, fer me. Sometimes I eat my cinnamon bun before I can get it back to the Cow Barn on account of those buns being so delicious.

Last Saturday I went over there to the Farmer's Market, but the cinnamon bun vendor wasn't there and I didn't get my cinnamon bun last Saturday. So this week I went back with great anticipation since I hadn't had a cinnamon bun fer two weeks. Sure enough they were back. This cinnamon bun vendor allows the customer to pick out a cinnamon bun. Usually the one I Ray want is in the middle of a group of other cinnamon buns. It is attached to the other cinnamon buns on its sides and also is stuck to the bottom of the tray. So the cinnamon bun vendor always has trouble separating my cinnamon bun that I have picked out from the rest of 'em. The reason for the trouble is that the vendor is obliged not to touch the cinnamon buns with fingers. Ordinarily, I would just wait patiently while the vendor fumbled around looking for utensils and also wait around patiently while the vendor fumbled around trying to extract my cinnamon bun from its contagion with the inferior cinnamon buns I didn't want.

But today, because I hadn't had a cinnamon bun fer two weeks, through no fault of my own, I grew impatient and grabbed up my cinnamon bun bare handed while the cinnamon bun vendors back was turned. "Lookee here, I have already retrieved my cinnamon bun" I told the vendor. So all that remained was for the vendor to sack my cinnamon bun up, and away I went, with it. This time, even though my mouth was watering the whole trip, I got it back to the Cow Barn. As usual, that cinnamon bun was delicious.

But on the way from the cinnamon bun vendors to the Cow Barn I was accosted by strangers that wanted to rub my back. They also asked me some very personal direct questions. Because I am a Druid and obliged to answer direct questions truthfully I tried to give them some of my valuable time and provide honest answers to the questions, but my focus was actually on my cinnamon bun the whole time so I may have been short with those strangers.

These are the questions they asked together with my answers.

Would you like a back rub? No.

Do you think you are in good health? Maybe.

Do you ever have tension? Yes, I have tension because I'm nervous.

Don't you think a rub down could help your nerves? No, because I'm nervous because I think about killin'(censored) too much. They make me nervous.

Don't you think a rubdown could help you with thinking like that? No.

And then, Goddess Excuse Me, I put an end to their presumptiousness and walked off.

You see these strangers really wanted to rub on me and I don't know why and they were delaying my quality time with my cinnamon bun. Go figure!