A sign of my age: I had no idea that Easter was upon us. I found out yesterday. That’s what happens to you when the kids grow up and the parents move to warmer climes. We’re not cooking anything. We’re not decorating. Nary a Peep. I’m too fat to fit in my suit, so I won’t be auditing a pew anywhere.

I had planned on trying to get to the firing range this weekend, but… Sunday the public ranges will be closed and Saturday we have a guy coming to give us a bid on new windows. Bah. Maybe we’ll drive out to the unmanned conservation area on Sunday and shoot with the other pagans.

The grass is starting to get shaggy, so I could apply my energies to getting the back forty groomed and de-dog pooped.

Or, hey. I could write. It could happen.

Best to you, my 25 faithful readers, and to your families, be they near or far.