
There hasn’t been much time for bloggery lately, with Herself’s sisters in town for an extended visit.
Having four females in the house, a fella hardly gets a minute to catch his breath, much less his thoughts.
To be fair, Miss Mia Sopaipilla likewise found her routine disrupted. The three sisters held their morning war councils at the kitchen table, which is the second step of Miss Mia’s ascension to the countertop, the first step being a stool. So instead of being all cute on the countertop she’d find some acoustically appropriate corner of El Rancho Pendejo to announce her annoyance.
Man, does her voice ever carry. Miss Mia may be a senior citizen, but she can still hit the high notes.
Anyway, that’s my excuse for the lack of “content” around here lately. (The fine weather for cycling may have played some small role.) We’re down one sister as of this morning — Heather flew back to Tennessee — but Beth will be with us for a couple more days, so I anticipate a continuing hitch in my digital gitalong.
The good news is, you can fill the lonely hours with the latest from Hal Walter, who is collaborating with son Harrison on a project that is something of a work in progress. “The Blur Goes to College: Full Tilt Boogie Too” is intended to be a book, eventually; in the meantime, they’re rolling it out on Substack, in serial form. Writes Hal:
It’s part comedy and part tragedy, part train wreck, part triumph. Moreover, this is a story of empathy and compassion, and exploring the rights of people with so-called “intellectual disabilities.” We wanted to get the story out as soon as possible. We hope you enjoy this serialized rollout on Substack as we finish the book and eventually get it into print.
If you enjoy what you see, you can subscribe to have chapters delivered by email. If you’d like to support the project, donations are gratefully accepted via Venmo @Hal-Walter (phone# 8756).

Blessed are the husbands who care for the sisters. They will dwell in the house of no flats and their front derailleurs will never need adjustment. The wind will always be at their backs, especially on climbs. Their guitars will always be in tune, and they shall never forget lyrics.
Also, check your messages, because your musical doppelgänger is a song writer.
I’ve been plagued with flats lately, Paddy me boyo. Gives me something to do in the downtime when women aren’t barking orders at me.
Good tune there from the oulde fellahs, hey?
Those guys have been doing it fir decades. When Andy saw it, we Facetimed with him and Liz yesterday, he said, “That guy looks like Patrick!” Anyway, “they are grabbing the pussies in Springfield.”
A couple of witty fellers, for sure. John plays the piano better than I do, too.
And I can’t believe that Tom Paxton is still at it! That dude is like the Energizer Bunny.
Autumnal equinox: Marks the beginning of America’s favorite marital competition, Capture the Thermostat, where husbands and wives sneak around behind each other, cranking the dial all the way this way or that.
We had the doors and windows wide open yesterday and the A/C never came on. It was Number One.
The almighty’s thermometer up here seems to have gotten the message that it is the autumnal equinox. It didn’t even hit 70 today in Fanta Se. I was on a ride, given I wanted to get a ride in on the first day of fall, and noted that if it had been any colder, I would have wanted a long sleeve jersey and perhaps knickers.
Well, so it goes. Another round of saying toodles to the Sun for another year.
Fiddy degrees this morning at stupid-thirty. I wore arm and knee warmers on yesterday’s ride, but shed the arm warmers after a while. Before long it will be knickers and long sleeves and tuques, o my!
45 up here right now. Brrrrr