Picking Up The Pieces....

...if it can be called that, she said darkly, looking at the clock and wondering how long it was going to take her to get out of bed - only joking, she chirped, snuggling more deeply into the duvet and squinting at her laptop, wondering if she could blame it all on Ginger.

How's THAT for a post after a month and a half? I mean, just where DO you start when you've spent six weeks in bed watching fifty-year old English TV dramas on YouTube, admittedly getting up to play tennis for two hours a day five days a week with intermittent trips to Walmart and the post office but diving back into bed with Ginger the minute you get back to the house?

Without using capital letters for emphasis is the answer to that, says the ever-present voice in her head of Miss Chalk, English teacher at Grimsby Wintringham Grammar School for Girls somewhere back in the middle of the last century, but then she also said blue and green should never be seen, and that's my very favorite color combination of all, so what did she know?

Anywhere you like, is MY answer to the question, ha ha, which if you've forgotten was where on earth do you start posting to a blog called everydayastrology when your last post was forty-five days or so ago - back in the era of my beloved Sweet Pea who went out to do his business one Sunday morning when I left the house to play tennis and never returned - him, not me, because I was back at noon and knew immediately when he didn't show for his normal late breakfast that I was never going to see him again and that he'd - after four and a half blissful years of roaming the high desert of New Mexico, or at least the six acres of it around this house - succumbed to the fate of most domestic critters that roam the high desert of New Mexico and fallen victim to something higher up the food chain - karmic revenge, one might say if one were so inclined, for the baby rabbit tartare that was his breakfast three days in a row earlier in the summer.

And looking back to my last post on October third, I see it WASN'T in the era of my beloved Sweet Pea but that he had already met his maker - it was AFTER he'd been et and I wrote that the description of his end would be posted under Saturn Opposed to Venus or Pluto Back in Eight - WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG. As one of my most favorite New Yorker cartoon characters says to the vicar outside the church, "I know He moves in a mysterious way, but if I moved that mysteriously I'd be fired."