Rites of Spring

Though it's been decades since I followed Christianity, the holidays remain as tradition. So tomorrow I'll make dinner for Stevil and myself, and make a plate for my neighbor if she's alone (I try to keep some distance there). I have a fresh bone-in pork shoulder roast and will make sauteed asparagus, steamed Brussels sprouts and whipped sweet potatoes. Today I'll make a lemon sour cream pie (haven't made that in ages) after getting the household chores done. It's slow going today; whatever the "pain index" says, it's about a 7 from my hip index.

Hildebeest, like The Dude, abides. Since the cone's been off she's gained about 5 pounds in an eating frenzy. It seems to me that corrective measures to stop her obsessive biting herself only serve to cause more stress so I've backed off. What she needs to do is calm the hell down and being squirted or yelled at isn't going to do that. In time she will straighten out. It's stressful to me to see the chewed tail and clean up the hairball-gakking. But I'm supposedly the grown up human here so it's shut up and deal.

In other news, Special K has gotten a place here at The Shire. The buildings that were closed since the flood last August have been refurbished and are being reopened for habitation next month. Many of the former occupants won't be returning; they've gotten new apartments, or been sent to nursing homes, or have joined the Choir Eternal. So May and June will see a number of new faces around the Brandywine's banks. I've heard that only 4 of the original Hobbits will return to fill the 20 reopening cottages.

Speaking of cottages, Thomas Kinkade, painter of the insipid, has died. He was only 54. No word on what turned off his lights.

There's other news but it's mostly bad and I'm determined to celebrate Spring. I just wanted to pop in and wish everyone Happy Passover, Easter and whatever else may float your boat this weekend. Enjoy the blooming.

Dona nobis pacem.