My fusty old lobe has been warmed by the welcoming response of the blaming community to my coming-out-of-retirement announcement. It’s great to be back. I think all I needed was a little breather. I’m feeling pretty goddam blamerly again. A new aunt.
So let me hip you to the new situation.
To facilitate my agrarian conceits (see Dreadful Acres), I have hired a new assistant, Dusty. Dusty is an awesome 18-year-old horse-crazy horsegirl who loves horses, and she’ll be taking over my farm chores twice a week. Theoretically this will free up two whole afternoons for me, so I can biff off to town for lunch and/or write a blog post, like every week.
I say “theoretically” because Dusty, though excellent in all other respects, has come down with the flu, and can’t come to work this week at all. She so informed me by phone this morning at 7:15, using the thin, frail flu-voice that I invented when I was a teenager for the purpose of conveying to an employer a sense of the devastating extent of my infirmity. It’s gratifying that the flu-voice is still seeing some action.
Anyway, although I occasionally might be able to swing it more often, I can pretty much promise at least one post a week, once young Dusty is restored to her former vigor. Not as frequent as when I was in my blogging prime, to be sure, but like I always say, you get what you pay for at I Blame the Patriarchy.
And now it’s back to the salt mines for me. Those horse feet aren’t going to pick themselves.