Euphorbia (Chamaesyce) hirta

Ray! What's wrong?

The criminals in the government of these Yorenited States have stole my property before I even got it. Snuffle.

Jeez Louise, Ray! I simply can not abide that snuffling. I have asked you repeatedly not to snuffle.

Hope. What in Cerridwen's Kettle is Ray carrying on about?

Oh My Goddess Rayetta!!! Ray has concluded that the Little Kinglet has stolen his mail that was coming all the way from Scotland and which same mail, Ray had so looked forward to receiving, not alone for the subject of the mail itself, but also due to the great distance over which the mail was to have traveled, before the Little Kinglet may have bushwhacked it, Ray's mail.

Mail from Scotland, why that was just some telescopery gizmo that I, Rayetta, actually recall approving the acquisition of. Why in one of the many names of the Great Goddess does Ray think the Little Kinglet bushwacked that particular mail?

I believe, to hear Ray tell it, that particular mail is long overdue and Red told Ray that these days the Little Kinglet is bushwhackin all the mail and just taking anything he pleases for himself, without a by yer leave, as it were.

Hmmmm. Ray! Blow yer nose for Goddess Sake and then, after you blow your nose, come over here.

Honk, snort, snort. All righty then, Rayetta.

Now listen up Ray. I don't believe the Little Kinglet has your mail. I think that your mail is on its way. It takes a while for mail to come all the way from Scotland. Show some patience. That particular mail will arrive, anon. Isn't that right, Hope?

You betcha Rayetta. That mail will arrive anon, potentially unopened and possibly not nastily fingered by the Little Kinglet or even by some among his great multitude of mindless minions.

Snuffle. Snuffle.

Ray! Stop that!!! And Hope, I am surprised at you, using such negative spells. Don't encourage Ray in this fixation. We'll be knee deep in snot if ye encourage him. Ray! your mail will certainly be here anon, and if it isn't here anon, I Rayetta will spell the proper authorities and put everything right. You will get your mail anon, for Goddess Sake.

Well alrighty then, Rayetta. If ye say so.

Now that's settled. What's tonight's lesson, Crumby?

Tonight's lesson is "More of the Same Difference", Rayetta.

Good. That sort of spell should be of sufficient complexity and interest so that all of us can take our minds off the merely mundane until such time as we all go to rest on the Bosom of the Goddess.

Yepper. Anyway, tonight's lesson "More of the Same Difference" is beans and peas. Many of the wise fer long ages have speculated on what is a bean and what is a pea. Yet, to this very day, no one knows fer sure, and the wise themselves, wearied of long disputation on this subtopic, have purty much given up, on beans and peas. So like the Druidry of Old, we conclude that they are the same difference, much like plant varieties and subspecies.

Nevertheless, a related leguminous subtopic continues to trouble. As you all know, the souls of humans and some of the proto humans seek refuge in beans, and peas also, maybe, since they, the beans and peas, are the same difference. And as you also know, a great many pinto beans have recently been et up by all of us here at RGVECB. Of course, ye also know that its Okie Dokie for us to eat the beans because Red has kept close pedigrees on all the beans produced in these parts and guarantees that none of the ones we are likely to eat up are our ancestors. So the only unresolved issues regarding bean and peas maybe, is the gas issue.

Ray. You cooked those beans. Explain to everyone the elaborate steps you took to siphon off the yelpin' of all those poor lyin' and gluttonous souls that were trapped in the beans as gas.

All righty then Crumby. First, I boiled them beans for awhile so that much of the gas would escape into the water, both the water's liquid and gaseous states. Then I poured off all that gas water and replenished the beans with fresh water. Once I got it all boilin' again, I dropped Clarence the forked carrot in so that he could absorb much of the gas. Then after awhile, I fished Clarence out and he's now restin' on the Bosom of the Goddess in the west fenceline recyclin' pile.

Thankee Ray. Them's all excellent precautionary steps. But even so, many of us are mitey afflicted, nonetheless, for the nonce with the gaseous emissions of those lyin' and gluttonous souls escapin' into the atmosphere where, the Goddess is no doubt havin' to corral them. And I conclude, therefore, that we may need to come up with some extra precautionary steps for addressin' this troublin' rectumatory issue.

All righty then. That's midgily fine Crumby. And a good suggestion too, that I, Red will work on in my spare time.

Now, I Red have a celestial body report to make. Thank's to Lomo's electric gizmo, I was enabled to enjoy leisurely looksees at the Seven Sisters and many of those young ladies' companions. Not only that, ol' Bran the Blessed is right under the Beehive. Ha! That ol talkin' head knows what the bees know, fer sure. But now, at last, I have an urge, to also see me a spurge. Whut's the spurge?

Tonight's spurge is dwellin' in these parts penultimately, but ultimately, it's originals come from Africa. Reportedly, it has some use in those parts as a poison, applied to dart tips and perhaps some poor monkey er two has thus been overcome. Penultimately, this one occurred in a flower pot, possibly a flower pot also containin' a mountain pea, at the Dig Up plant growing facility located right here in Travis County, and met me, and its doom, on September 13, 1998. The flowers occur in tight, what is known as glomerules, which means lots of and bunched up. That is a mashed down glomerule yer witnessin' nearby. Several seeds are more or less visible in the glomerule, but the one in the middle is the most in focus. The color of this one might be described, beggin' yer pardon ladies, as titty pink, underneath that whitish scurf.