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I guess it's past time to record my observations and frustrations and the rare appreciation of my life in general. One aspect of the new forum changes I have noticed is a dramatic slump in the PMs I would receive. The Buddy List thing (B-Mental has the honor of inviting me on board months before it became the 'thing' to do) has replaced truly personal contact with even some of my particular favorites.

Slight pause while Litnetters check to see how many times Logos has contacted the grumpy dinosaur on the Buddy List.

Additional pause while Litnetters check HER Buddy List for several lame attempts to get a phone number.

Another pause while most Litnetters breathe a sigh of relief--some things on the forum are still as they ought to be.

The blog makeover reminds me of the James Bond movie problem. Roger Moore is JUST not Sean Connery and no one pretends he is. Just adapt and it will grow on you. Well that took the third Movie The Spy Who Loved Me to accomplish that. So we are still dealing with the George Lazenby syndrome--nice change of pace. Now bring Connery back. But Diamonds Are Forever was no Thunderball and you can't go home again. Just like some Tarzan novels Burroughs should have thought twice about adding to the canon--Tarzan and the Mad Man anyone??

Two days ago I completed the final Spurgeon sermon from Able to the Uttermost (The Lost Sermons). 3568 days in a row since 1 January 1999. The drama queen was only slightly disappointed I didn't keel over in a coma upon completion. I felt a bittersweet joy that a daily routine had come to an end. What to do next? Matthew Henry was a temptation but my eyes alighted on William Jenkins' Commentary on Jude (1652). I have had this book for over 30 years and have picked it up once or twice. It's a large hard cover with 360 pages of double-column THIN print with Latin notes in the margins. There was a five page chart breaking down the 25 verses to the Book of Jude that took me two days to sift through my head in a whirl. Goal is a page a day or two with the idea of spending a year on it. By then I may have finally bought Calvin's Commentaries and make those the last great read of my life at my advancing age.

Virgil is wondering how The Avengers are doing. Have 311 issues with 192 to go. Recently knocked the Young Avengers series off the list or I would have had a few more.

Kizzo waits breathlessly for news of Snap Jaws. Well we have a surprise for her. Double bonus day. Snap Jaws and my traitorous dog Onyx sandbagged me last week. They formed an unholy alliance and sent me to the couch in a dither. Having stalled a week longer then I should have I waited for Ruth to go to work and knocked out the front yard which is generally 10-15 minutes tops. Snap Jaws was the usual cranky self getting started but he chews well if not under protest. I had him firmly in my grasp and he knew who was in charge.

My mistake was letting Onyx join me in the back yard. He's on his chain and suspiciously NOT getting in my way while mowing the dreaded 40 minute labor of no gain for marriage benefits rewards. Snap Jaws would hang up on some low ground portions of the yard and snicker. I had about 10 minutes to go when the Lawnmower of Doom made his move. He hung up about 30 feet from Onyx who I discovered was in the process of regurgitating grass so helpfully prepared by old Snappy in delectable bite size chunks made for grazing. Who knew grass could be green and yellow and not having eaten all day what little was in my stomach hit the ground and Snap Jaws stalled letting out a hiss of delighted malice. Onyx seemed to wink at me and went back to chewing.

I decided 90 percent of a yard mowed was better then none and sat on the couch contemplating the sad state of my stomach. And to think I used to be able to watch burn victims and bleeding military guys without a problem and saw all three guttersnipes being born (though I cheated -- I kept glancing away from the mirror and comparing having babies to making pancakes with blackberry cherry sauce. No fainting in the medical room for this gift of God to no woman I tell you.

NEXT: Stories for Mother Hubbard about the latest AAA madness.