The short version . . .

A quick Sunday (afternoon? How did it get to be afternoon?) update. There will be a lot more to come, I hope because it's been a thoroughly exciting and exhausting three days.

The highlights include the two Dropkick Murphys concerts yesterday, complete with me bawling my eyes out on "Fields of Athenry," covers of "Maggie May" and "Teenage Wasteland," and evilnicola kicking into an asthma attack (she's OK) after singing her lungs out on the "Spicy McHaggis Jig" and "Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced."

There were a number of other important things between Friday and today, and I hope to get to those later.

Running into bhairavi and her beau on the way home was pretty spiffy, too. Finding out she'll be living her again in a couple weeks was even better.

By the way, on the hawk front, the hawk is much better. I figured this out as early as Wednesday, when she tried to take two fingers instead of a mousicle. I have adjusted my feeding techniques, and I can still count to 10.

I am currently on track to take the "clean the room" line off my to-do list that has been there since, well, January.

Sunday night puttering around . . .

1. Opening Day is two weeks from tomorrow. Just sayin' is all.

2. Last week seemed really long, and this week's gonna be the same, but at least I am not going to any week-night concerts. National Honor Society induction is Wednesday, and I will feel better when that's over. Then we start really hitting the fund-raising for the April trip for Habitat for Humanity.

3. One of the influences that alethea_eastrid is having on me is the migration of my radio dial from Country & Western (there's only two kinds of music) to folk. Now, I don't here a lot of pickups, ex-wives and dogs under the porch, but there are a lot of great pieces about Cats! Go down to the last song for lysrics like this, from a song that does indeed include dogs:

The Doberman of entropy is drooling in the gloom
And slinking through the vestibule the Wiener Dog of doom
The Labrador of loneliness is looking doubly bleak
The Poodle of depression licks the Pekingese of pique

4. This is the kind of thing you would only see in Glorious Aethelmearc