Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Eat your sausage — it's Ground Hog Day

Yes, I've returned, despite all your fervent hopes to the contrary.

Sorry I've been out of touch for the last few days, but I had to dash out of town and haven't had access to the 'Net. I can't tell you until next week where I went or why, but trust me on this — there's a story in it that you'll want to hear. Drop around on Monday for the first juicy tidbit.

In the meantime, we'll have plenty to ramble about the rest of this week, just as soon as I get my ducks back in a row. (The fact that ducks refuse to stay in a row when so ordered is proof that waterfowl are basically anarchist. That, and they're more than a little miffed about the whole foie gras thing.) More posts coming later today.

If you're looking for some light reading while I shuffle things about, one of my favorite bloggers — the ineffably cool Janet, whose blog The Art of Getting By (not to be confused with The Art of Getting Some, which I don't think is a blog, but perhaps should be) satisfies my Recommended Daily Allowance for thoughtful humor between two slices of wry, and always makes me crave kippers for breakfast — wrote charming things about us recently. So go show Janet some love, already. Tell her your Uncle Swan sent you.

Then hurry back. I'll have whipped those mallards into shape by then.

3 insisted on sticking two cents in:

Blogger Janet offered these pearls of wisdom...

You've returned! For a minute there, I thought the swan had sung his song.:)

2:06 PM  
Blogger Katie offered these pearls of wisdom...

Found you via Janet, actually, and am very intrigued to read what a freelance writer chooses to write about in his non-freelance time.

Will check in for the followup post!

2:46 PM  
Blogger SwanShadow offered these pearls of wisdom...

Don't fret, Janet; you'll not be rid of me that easily. I'm like "Funkytown," or the Blue Swede version of "Hooked on a Feeling" — once I insinuate myself into your consciousness, I'm in there to stay.

And welcome to the schizoid madness, PLD. Delighted to have you aboard the mystery train. (I can't call you "Pink," because that's already in use, my daughter tells me. "Diva" is yet another of Frank Zappa's oddly monickered offspring, so that was a non-starter. And calling you "Lemonade" seemed simultaneously silly and rude. "PLD" sounds like a condition requiring pharmaceutical intervention, but it's all I had left.)

3:41 PM  

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