So [I] Must Become Derelict

Really- you have to resort to name-calling... or perhaps apt identification? If you miss me that much you should draw me from my dormancy with affection and flattery. Not that it would work. I am only saying that is what you should do- or have done in this case.

Still- I would only emerge from my sleep when the time was right. Apparently that time is now. I can't say why exactly the time is right. Some convergence of Puto's status change, Steve Irwin's death, Suri's revelation, the commemoration of the World Trade Center attacks overshadowing the celebration of the emergence of Satyagraha, Project Runway's elimination of Vincent, my thriving pepper plants, the lengthening shadows, the cooler evenings and so many other things stewing together and bubbling over into a return to my blog.

And what of me? What was I up to throughout my summer hiatus? You'll have to be satisfied with the broadest strokes.

I grew a beard.
I discovered there is a place called Big Bone Lick.
I learned Brown is a color some of America cannot yet categorize but responds to within a range from bewilderment to fear.
I joined the iPod'd class.
I became big in Japan.
I saw there are at least enough Bible wax museums in the Midwest that one has to distinguish itself as the largest.
I saw that some churches in the South have been designed and decorated by Siegfried and Roy on a cocaine binge.
I learned L' Oreal Paris is made in Northern Arkansas, not far from the Remington ammo factory.
I suspect I know why people with the ambition and wherewithal to escape other parts of the country come to California and don't leave.
I overcame my fear of Cracker Barrels and developed a fondness for Waffle Houses.
I found there is a gap between what I care about and what might be communicated in a dissertation prospectus.
I became a concrete universal to Serrano and Habanero chiles.
And more.

How's that for a pupal stage?