Friday afternoon this lady fought her way through a stiff breeze with her hard-won booty from a lifetime of hollow birthday celebrations festooned with grocery-store-bought balloons whose material is just one of the bounteous results of the space program. Language alert: the word 'booty' is used in the pirate sense, not the hippity-hop one. So, anyway: I'm glad I wasn't out distributing flower petals and skipping and all that stuff, because Mother Nature pulled another fast one on me. Is Mother Nature in the Bible? Is she a saint or something? I forget. How do Christians explain her away, huh? I can just picture Bertrand Russell casting a gimlet eye at them, and then on its return declaiming: "All right, you lot: what about Mother Nature then? What?" Speaking of skipping, have you tried it lately? It's a remarkably efficient way to travel fast. It's almost as fast as running, and you never seem to get winded. I can skip all the way to work in half the time it takes me to walk. Granted, I have to put up with some jeering, but I get a certain amount of that in any case. And it's better cause this way I can say people are jeering at me cause I'm skipping and not just because I'm me. Speaking of skipping, we sure have covered a lot of topics today, haven't we? You could probably get some kind of high-school equivalency credit for reading this.