Rural gazettes

I walked through Exchange Park, clutching a newspaper that purported to be the New of all Rural Texas, reading about cows and upcoming bluegrass festivals. I saw a swamp rabbit skittering away through the bushes. I had always wondered if it were truly possible for me to tell a swamp rabbit from a mere cottontail, but there was not doubt about what it was today. I saw another one on my way from the park, confirming my diagnosis.

Mockingbirds sang, but I have no idea whose song they mocked. I like the idea of an avian cover artist.

I found myself driven to discouraging words by my efforts to sign onto my new high speed internet access at home. My tolerance for new software is low at best, but some red needle tolerance is exceeded when the system asks for me to set my username, then freezes, and on second try, advises me it must reboot, does so, and then does nothing. I am a bit sheepish about the colorful language which emitted from me. I hope I get the high-speed to work soon.

My pennysaver ad has pulled up a couple of dividends in terms of chess players rather than chess sites, but I will take enthusiasm where I find it.

I'm beginning to daydream about another trip, perhaps in July. I am looking forward to another day off, though, and then four days of work.