A Spo-fan or two occasionally ask about ‘loose ends” viz. I bring up things and there is no follow-up or resolution. Life is like that I tell them. However, as I am obliging as a democratic drawbridge, going down for everybody, here are a few loose ends tied up.

The GI upset/food poisoning is passing, leaving me with a sense of fatigue and need for sleep. Yesterday I went right home from work to bed. I don’t remember a thing, not even when Someone came home.

The agave is located on the far west side of the front yard, looking like it has always been there. No signs of movement in the night. It is too soon to relax but I am hopeful.

The mystery author in my Mother’s story about great-grandfather isn’t Walt Whitman but a fellow named Eugene Field. There is a collection of his work, including a handwritten note and poem. These must be valuable; I should find out if there is a Eugen Fields Society who may want them.

I’ve had no tornado dreams as of late.

I’ve had no time to work on my recipe book, or updating my blog entries prior to publishing.


I’ve smoked no opium.

I’ve sucked no toads.

I remain well over four feet.