Where has the time gone?

Has it been three weeks since my last post?? Wow, time flies. My time was quite occupied by planning and executing a 40th birthday bash for my wife. So, if you've been checking in and have been disappointed (or relieved) to find no new post - my apologies, won't happen again until the next time it happens. Anyhoo, so I was driving to work this morning (I'm drafting this during lunch - no rest for the weary) I saw a dead raccoon by the side of the road, which is no big deal because this is a fairly common site round these parts. But then, about twenty feet later I saw a second one. So, naturally I'm thinking murder-suicide. One raccoon probably found out about the other raccoon's illicit affair with a squirrel and just lost it. In fact, it was probably quite the intricate plan by one of the raccoons. Because raccoons are very smart - the ones in my neighborhood manage to pull latches off of garbage cans, hoist each other up onto the cans and start a conga line/assembly line of food back to the woods. I mean, think about it - he (or she, I've never been that close to a raccoon to look for the obvious difference, but I'm assuming the murderer was a male. If the female raccoon caught the male raccoon cheating, she'd have probably just scratched his eyes out and taken his favorite garbage-eating spot) would have had to think up this elaborate rouse to get her to cross an extremely busy highway - probably told her there were dumpsters full of rotting food to forage through, and then convince her that they were waiting for this last car to go by before they made a run for it, then....BAM! a vicious shove right under the front wheel of a late model Ford Explorer XLT (you know, with the big off-road tires and extra suspension). And then, despondent about what he had done, he probably crawled out to the middle of the road to await his fate. Or maybe, it was a raccoon tragedy, sort of a raccoon Romeo-Juliet, unrequited love deal. Maybe one raccoon (let's go with the female this time in the interest of fairness) had arranged to meet the male raccoon at that spot, but the male raccoon had been picked off by a tractor trailer two minutes before she got there. Then, despondent, she offs herself. Is that how it played out? Or maybe they were the rat equivalent of Darwin Award winners (you know those people who die in the dumbest, most ridiculous ways possible). Maybe they got drunk on the residue of some whisky bottle in a trash bin and started daring each other do dodge cars. Oh well, they are just rats with better P.R. anyway; plenty more where they cam from. Like the ones who visit us every night and break into my garbage cans and throw trash all over my yard. Freaking parasites! Death is too good for them!!

Hey, speaking of my yard, why can't "ability to grow incredible amounts of weeds" be the envy of gardeners everywhere? Then I would be considered the best gardener alive. And I could give clinics and write books on 10 easy steps to grow tremendous weeds. And weed-growing companies would pay me gobs of money to be their spokesperson. I need to live in a world where weed-growing equates with success. Its my only hope.