I'm going on vacation for the next week.
By design, the beach-house we're renting -- in a part of the Outer Banks of North Carolina accessible only by four-wheel-drive vehicles or perhaps Bradley Fighting Vehicles -- doesn't have Net access, although I'm reliably informed that the water tastes like wine. Or was that vice versa? Better check the brochure...
This will be a period of Serious Disengagement from the World. I'm taking every volume of P. G. Wodehouse I own, a pair of good binoculars for birdwatching, and my camera. Maybe a change of clothes, but maybe not. And I am leaving the laptop at home.
Brave, I know.
I'm turning the keys of the Jingomobile over to a couple of goobers who may or may not choose to reveal their Secret Identities to you. I've left the decision up to them. I expect hijinks and japery to ensue. If they do not, the goobers will have the Empress of Blandings to answer to.
Catch you in a week.
PS: Four thousand Pharynguloids through here over the last two days reading about PowerPoint and the US military's planning for Iraq, and, like, two of you drop a comment? Yeesh! What's a guy gotta do? Slow month, I guess...