Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,300 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 38 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

If you’ve read many of the posts here on Live from the Lizard Lounge about my flora, you know that I’m partial to my banana plants and fear the dreaded cold snaps we’ve been experiencing here in Central Florida the past few years. Bananas are not very cold hardy. Freezing temperatures will kill the leaves, while temperatures in the high 20s will kill the plant to the ground. This has been the fate suffered by my younger plants the past several years.

Each year, freezing temps have resulted in ‘nanner death to a small stand of young plants on the northern edge of my back yard. Although, as is typical for bananas, new plants sprout from the rhizome (underground banana root-like thingy) each spring and grow to about 2′-3′ over the summer, come winter they invariably get struck down in the prime of life just like their brethren and sistren from the previous year (see the photo to the right).

To help this year’s crop of bananas avoid this fate and survive the cold, the night it was projected to freeze I created a makeshift greenhouse with a big sheet of plastic I happened to have on hand (not sure why), some saw horses, a couple of lengths of cast-off lumber, and a big ol’ outdoor light bulb for heat.

Trust me when I tell you it wasn’t pretty. (See for yourself in the photo to the left.) It was kind of a low-slung, amorphous, glowing hulk of polyvinyl chloride anchored down by chunks of lumber and flower pots, with blurry images of toasty little green banana plants intermittently visible through the translucent plastic.

Although it was white-trashy looking, I have to proclaim it a resounding success. So far, no tell-tale leaf browning is visible on any of my banana babies.

Such a proud papa.

For the record, New Year’s resolution are for the birds.

Come on – you know you’re with me on that.

Last January, I determinedly posted a list of 11 home and garden projects that I intended to complete here at the Lizard Lounge this past year, complete with photographic documentation of their current needy state.

At final count, I finished five of them.

In my defense… Oh forget it – there really isn’t a good defense.

Actually, as it turns out I’m ahead of the curve. Out of the 45% of Americans who set New Year’s resolutions, about half have “infrequent success”. (My apologies to my readers in Yugoslavia – I’m still looking for statistics for you guys.) I would call completing 5 out of 11 projects infrequently successful.

Plus, that number doesn’t count all the non-documented projects I completed around here. I repaired a leaking washing machine, installed a new ice maker, bought a new stove, deep-cleaned my garbage disposal, and totally reorganized all my Christmas stuff. (While that may seem a simple task, you can read here, here, here, and here to see how many deck-o-rations I have.) I also read the Bible all the way through and survived twice daily traffic on I-4. That’s gotta count for something.

Maybe the problem lies in the whole idea of actually writing one’s resolutions down and putting them out there for everyone to see. The closer to the end of the year you get without much being done the more it sort of sucks the joy right out of it for you.

Or maybe resolutions ought to be more personally and spiritually beneficial, like actually limiting Facebook time to just once a week and filling those previously squandered hours with writing and arranging music and starting that second blog that’s been on my heart for some time now and flossing. Not that by putting any of these things in writing am I committing to actually fulfilling them in 2012 or anything. (Don’t wanna go down that road again…)

Anyway, at least I’ve already got the jump on six projects I may (or may not) complete next year around here. No promises.

As far as 2011 projects, in addition to a new window seat cushion, a new front door (I know, I know – those two really just involved shopping and writing a check to someone else, even though my friend Katy tried to make me feel like less of a loser by trying to convince me that shopping for fabric can be extremely trying. I love that gal…), and a new piano bench, I also finished painting all the unpainted spots on the exterior of the Lounge, and got my bookcase clutter under control.

Cornered

I’ll start with the painting project.

My key learning (as we like to say at work) when painting the corner of the house shown in the photo (to the right) is that cheap-o foam paint brushes from Walmart are great for painting brick. You can easily shove paint in all the cracks and crevices, and, once you’re finished, just toss what’s left of the brush in the garbage; no clean up is necessary. (Unless, like me, you end up just pulling the sponge part off the handle and using your fingers to squish the paint in place.)

In addition to the new coat of exterior paint, I also remulched and added some river pebbles to that corner planting bed and installed a fountain, given to me by my dear friend George.

The interesting thing to me, though, as I compared the before and after photos, is how much that Chinese Fan Palm has grown this past year. (I especially noticed that as I tried to climb back there to paint.) If it had been this tall last January, I may not have bothered. Just sayin’…

Case Closed

My final project involves the bookcases in my… well, bookcase room. (You may recall that I built these in the wake of Hurricane Charlie a few years ago.) I’m really pleased with how they turned out, even though it was really tedious and a potential safety hazard.

I had decided that, in addition to busting all the clutter that had accumulated, I would paint the backs a shade darker than the wall color (see the photo at the top and to the right). This involved taking everything off the shelves, taping the sides up so they wouldn’t get painted along with the backs, and removing the shelves themselves. Imagine all those books (many of which I’ve since donated to my church library and Goodwill) and shelves lying about in precarious stacks on the floor throughout that room. When George came down on Thanksgiving, I issued him a GPS and a survival kit in case he got lost on the way to the kitchen.

I’m really pleased with the way the bookcases turned out, though. However, once I got rid of all that no-longer-needed stuff, I discovered I have way more shelves than books.

I guess I’ll need to add “shop for shelf merchandise” to next year’s resolution list.

Or not.

A moment better than those (and both of those rank up there on my list of classic moments).

It’s the moment in A Charlie Brown Christmas during rehearsal for the Christmas pageant when, frustrated by the materialism and commercialisation of Christmas, Charlie Brown cries out in desperation, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”

In response, Linus – quirky, philosophical, security blanket-toting Linus – answers, “Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.”

He steps downstage, blanket in tow, and calls out, “Lights, please.” The unseen but obedient lighting technician brings all the lights down to nothing but a spotlight on Linus.

He says (I’m tearing up just thinking about it):

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

“‘And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’

“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’”

Linus collects his blanket and walks back to his frustrated friend. “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

Indeed it is.

Tonight was the Christmas Eve service at my church – a night of carols, communion, and candlelight, three of my favorite church-related “C’s”.

Everyone was given a candle when they entered the church. At the end of the service, the pastor lit his candle from the large Christ candle on the stage. He then lit the executive pastor’s candle, who lit someone else’s candle, who lit someone else’s, until the light was passed throughout the packed sanctuary of several hundred people. The house lights gradually were turned out as the room was filled with the strains of “Silent Night”, sung by candlelight.

The beauty of that moment ranked right up there with Linus reciting the Christmas story from the book of Luke.

As I watched the pastor’s single tiny flame multiply to fill the room, I couldn’t help but be struck by the thought that what I was witnessing was very much like the spread of the gospel.

It all started with Jesus, the light of the world, who spread His gospel message to the apostles; who, in turn, spread that message to “all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Those had to have been amazing, heady times in the life of the church.

But 2000 years later, that light hasn’t died or stopped spreading. No doubt it’s a bit dimmer in these troubled times than it was during that first century; but the light has never been in danger of being extinguished – and never will be.

So on this Christmas Eve, don’t leave the Christ child in the manger. That image is miraculous and sweet and a key part of God’s plan, but it was just the beginning of the story of His grace and His gift of salvation through the birth, life, and death of His son.

And if you know Him as your savior then you know that the best is yet to come.

Merry Christmas from “Live from the Lizard Lounge”.

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Here are some Christmas haiku I wrote. Actually, they’re haiku only because they have the proper number of syllables per line (5 for the first line, 7 for the second line, and 5 for the third line) and will never be a threat to the ancient art of haiku writing.

Still – they made my day merry and bright (and hopefully yours, too)!

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Ho, Santa, you elf –
Where’s my Blu-ray Disc player?
I wrote you last May…

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Nativity scene,
With painted figurines. Wait –
The dog ate Mary.

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Oh dear, Tannenbaum –
An entire string has burned out.
(Where is my receipt?)

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White Christmas dreaming?
Not here at the Lizard Lounge –
Temperatures rise.

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More cards in the mail.
There is glitter everywhere –
There’s some on my nose.

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“Un-decking” the halls
Feels fa-la-la-la lousy.
(Is that more glitter?)

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As for the graphic,
A little visual pun:
“No L” (or “Noel”).

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Thank you for reading.
Christmas haiku? Kind of fun.
On to twenty-twelve!

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I know completing the piano bench looks like a simple project, but it included upholstering and mitering and pocket screw joinery and really careful measuring, so I’m gonna up the difficulty rating to at least a “4″ – maybe a “5″. (It’s my list and my rating scale – I have carte blanche to do that.) Regardless of the effort, I finally have a nice soft place to sit and play the piano and arrange, two of my most treasured pastimes.

Here is a video of me playing during the offertory at church recently (I’m not using my new bench, though). I’m playing a piano arrangement I wrote of two beautiful old hymns: “I Need Thee Every Hour” and “Grace Greater Than Our Sin”.

As you can imagine, I love to play the piano and have been doing so for almost a half-century.

Of course, I didn’t start out playing like the recording above. I had humble beginnings, playing such classics as “Yankee Doodle” with one finger and “Chopsticks” with two, as well as a lot of unrecognizable picking and pecking, but it was enough to whet my appetite for more.

I recall my mother putting little squares of white bandage tape on the keys of our small spinet piano and writing the names of the notes on them: “A”, “B”, “C”, and so on. I could still only pick out “Yankee Doodle” with one finger, but at least I knew that finger was playing C-C-D-E-C-E-D.

Once I was able to take a few lessons, though, and make the connection between what I was playing and the notes on the page, it was a whole new world. You couldn’t keep me off the piano. What with all the banging and experimentation, I’m glad my parents were longsuffering and supportive. (At least I was playing the piano and not the drums.)

All told, I probably only took about four years of lessons. Some people take piano lessons for years and vow they can’t play a note. For me I suppose my ability can only be described as a gift. (I have a friend from college who could twirl 50 hula hoops at once, all choreographed to music. Now that’s a gift.)

As soon as I was able, I began to play piano in church. Back then (he says, waxing nostalgic) everything we sang came from the hymnal. Since I had that arranger mentality even then, I seldom (OK – never) stuck to what was written. As you can imagine, there was a heaping helping of re-harmonization and ad-libbing going on. But since everyone in our church sang the melody (except for three or four altos) a new harmonic structure was no problem. Taught me a lot about music…

Suffice it to say, I love the hymns and spiritual songs I grew up with. Of course, now that I’m back in church and playing the piano again, I’m discovering there’s a whole new world of sacred music out there. I’m loving jamming on the more contemporary praise and worship tunes and can’t wait to sit in with the band, choir, and orchestra, all led by our gifted and talented worship pastor on Sunday morning. (And I promise it has nothing to do with the enormous Baldwin grand piano I’m sitting at in the video above.)

For me, serving in church is important, especially with the talent God has given me. Luke quotes Jesus as saying, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” (Luke 12:48 NIV)

I take that passage personally. Although I’ve been the one sitting on the piano bench all these years playing and practicing, I have no delusion that I developed that ability on my own. Even during those years when I would definitely describe myself as being at extreme apogee as far as a relationship with God, I readily admitted that He was the source of my musical ability. Now that I’ve turned mind, soul, and body over to Him, I can’t imagine not taking advantage of every opportunity to use what He’s given me for His honor and glory.

That’s why you’ll always find me wherever that gifted and talented worship pastor of mine asks me to be, doing whatever he needs me to do, whenever he needs me to do it.

What a shame it would be to be “benched” by the Lord for failing to offer back to Him the ability He gave me in the first place…

The sad thing is, both of my accomplishments so far have accounted to little more than shopping. And a little painting. And test naps. And admiring (someone else’s work – not mine…). So I guess you’d be hard pressed to call it “DIY” – more like “DIBHSE” (Do it by hiring someone else).

Nevertheless, I’m more than a little tickled with my new window seat cushion (article here if you missed it the first time) and now my latest addition, a new front door. (Click here for a “before” picture.)

Love the door – love it. The light it lets into the formerly dark living room is amazing. Plus, thanks to the superb installation by Kevin Ballard and Don Courson, extraordinary craftsmen, conscientious workers, and friends from church, I no longer have to body slam the door just to get it to close tightly. After he and Don finished, Kevin and I both stood there opening and closing it over-and-over again just to hear that solid “thunk”. Kevin was satisfied and so am I.

Before my friend Larry, a fellow worship band member from church (and an extraordinary musician), hooked me up with Kevin, I thought about trying to install the door myself. Being the methodical learner that I am, I immediately did what I do best – I Googled.

Quelle surprise! There was a YouTube video detailing the whole door replacement process step-by-step. It looked straightforward enough – level, shim, caulk – I could do that. Piece o’ cake.

Then the reality set in.

My YouTube “instructor” had installed a door in a wood frame house, not a concrete block house. How different was it? (Very, as it turns out.) Plus, what if I got the old door out but couldn’t get the new door in? There I would be with a big gaping hole in my living room, a situation that’s wrong on multiple levels.

As I watched Kevin and Don work that day, I realized there were a few key gaps in my door installation information that would have proven disastrous had I tried it by myself. Thankfully, I had the wisdom to solicit the help of someone who knew what they were doing. As it turns out, there’s a big difference between having information and having wisdom.

Proverbs chapter 8, verse 34 in the Bible has a great verse that I find appropriate to this particular door-related post. It says “Blessed is the man who listens to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.”

In this particular chapter of Proverbs, Solomon (“the wise” and author of the book) is actually talking about wisdom, speaking of it is as though it were a person. So when he says “Blessed is the man who listens to me [Wisdom]…waiting at my doorway,” it puts me in the mind of a student or scholar arriving early for class, eager to enter as soon as the door is opened so as not to miss a word.

My pastor at church has had us praying a prayer for the past 40 days asking God for a double portion of various things, such as joy, growth for our church, etc. The part of the prayer that I (figuratively) circle and put in bold letters when I pray it (so the Lord will be sure and notice) is the part that asks God to double my wisdom.

Again, being the methodical learner that I am, I’m great with studying my Bible and researching and reading theological commentary. What I most desire, though, is wisdom.

Jesus’ brother James says, “If any of you lacks wisdom he should ask God…and it will be given to him.”

So even though the 40-day double-portion prayer period has ended, I’m not through with it yet. I’m still gonna be waiting at Wisdom’s doorway, knock, knock, knockin’ on Heaven’s door asking for twice as much – in bold, with a circle around it.

Now excuse me – I have to go admire Kevin and Don’s handiwork.

*Thunk*

The only thing that can make a visit to a Disney theme park even more fun is to take someone who hasn’t been. And if those someones played a key role in the most significant event in your life, then even better.

Recently, Johnny and Judy Tucker (or Bro. Johnny and Mrs. Judy if you’re an old Southern Baptist boy like me) visited Central Florida and gave me the chance to spend time with them and host them as my guests at some of the theme parks of the Walt Disney World^® Resort. Bro. Johnny’s father pastored the church in which I grew up in North Alabama, so the Tuckers and I have a long history. Bro. Johnny is a full-time evangelist and Judy helps manage the daily working of his ministry, whether traveling with him domestically or abroad on mission trips to the Philippines or Guatemala.

They started their week in Orlando by joining me for church on Sunday morning, after which we made short shrift of Ling’s Buffet, a local favorite for Asian cuisine. From conversations we’ve had since, both were hits: starting with my pastor for presenting God’s word with his usual veracity and ending with Ling’s.

Biblical truth and fried rice make a great combination.

In addition to the abundant selection of sushi and stir fried delicacies at Ling’s, we also played “spot the white beard”. You’d be surprised at how many we saw in one lunch period. (I got the impression Bro. Johnny would love to sport a face full of whiskers but his mama won’t let him.)

The next morning, I used my entrance pass to get them into the Magic Kingdom^® Park for the day, after which I went on in to work. (There’s something so wrong about the end of that sentence…) They had been to the Magic Kingdom before, but I still left them with a few suggestions of some things I thought they would enjoy. They also hopped on the monorail and traveled the highway in the sky to Epcot^® for part of the day. From what I understand (as I, of course, was toiling away at work while they played and wasn’t actually there to witness it) they had a great time.

A Day at Disney

Wednesday I met them at their resort in nearby Kissimmee. After a quick breakfast, we started the morning at Disney’s Animal Kingdom^® Theme Park. Our first stop was to see Festival of the Lion King in the Camp Minnie-Mickey section of the park. This colorful and energetic production features a quartet of human singers who perform most of the songs from the movie The Lion King along with a huge cast of dancers, acrobats, and stilt-walkers dressed in stylized animal costumes. As is typical with anyone I take to Animal Kingdom, the show was a highlight of the day.

The rest of our day in the park was spent watching the various species of animals, eating ribs and barbecued chicken, and enjoying Finding Nemo – The Musical.

A couple of events tend to stand out, though…

While taking one of the self-guided animal tours in the park, Judy and I both got a little present in the bird enclosure from one of its feathered denizens. Either he couldn’t make it to the little bird’s room in time or it was just his way of saying “howdy”, but out of the blue something warm and sticky hit my shoulder and then ricocheted off and landed on Judy’s foot. From the looks of things, it appeared as though the bird had eaten biscuits and gravy with asparagus shortly before we arrived. And, of course, I was wearing a black shirt.

I managed to tidy up in one of the nearby water fountains, but I’m sure I heard some birds giggling behind their wings afterward.

Later, we had to drag Bro. Johnny out of the gorilla house. He and one of the gorillas seemed to make some sort of male-bonding connection – or maybe he just wanted to share the leaves he was munching on (the gorilla, not Bro. Johnny).

Although the day was hot and we ended up “plum Tuckered out”, we still found the energy to have a long and deep philosophical discussion back at their condo (one of my favorite things to do). It was a great day and we had a most delightful visit.

This was actually the second year we were able to spend some time together at Disney. A little history on that…

On the Road – the Wrong One

Just a skosh over a year ago in June of 2010, I was hurtling hard and fast down the “path that evil men have trod”, as Job so poetically described it. Even though I was a nice guy and may not have seemed as evil as, say, Mr. Osama Bin Laden, I was every bit as lost and bound for hell. During the preceding four or five months, God, in His unfathomable love, eternal patience, and amazing grace, had begun to make me keenly aware just how lost and hell-bound I was. You see, I had been pinning my hopes for eternity on an experience I had when I was nine years old, an experience that, as it turns out, had pretty much been exposed as null and void based on the life I had led since then.

Coincidentally though, the Tuckers gave me a call right about that time (after not being in touch with me for several years) to tell me that, coincidentally, they were going to be in Central Florida and, coincidentally, would like to have breakfast with me.

The date of their visit coincided – coincidentally – with my nearing the breaking point on that colossal internal tug-o’-war I was having between continuing on in my current lost and lonely life or doing a total about-face and surrendering all that I had – heart, soul, and mind – to God. (You know, saying it like that makes it seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it? However, the tug-o’-war side rooting for lost and lonely had somehow managed to make a compelling case for suppressing that conviction for change for a lot of years.)

Hopefully you’ve figured out the ending by now; events that line up so beautifully that only a sovereign God could orchestrate them are no coincidence.

Although, as the old hymn goes, “I Love To Tell the Story” because it speaks to the depths to which God will go to keep someone from being cut off from Him for eternity, I’ll cut to the chase (especially since that morning in June was months and years in the making). Suffice it to say that my (now) Heavenly Father arranged for me to have a breakfast date with Johnny and Judy Tucker, two of His kind, compassionate servants, at the moment of my greatest need; folks who, after that breakfast, sat under a shady arbor at one of the Disney resorts and held my hand; supplied me with tissues, answers, words of encouragement, and prayer; and became salt and light for me, leading me to accept Jesus as my Savior that morning.

God could have sent anyone to be His ambassadors that day; but, in His sovereign wisdom, He chose to send Bro. Johnny and Mrs. Judy Tucker, people I trusted and respected. And the cool thing was, they had no idea they had arranged a date to guide me to salvation. They were just planning to have breakfast.

They will always be special and precious to me because of that morning, and I count them among my greatest friends and as extended family members.

Free to All

Even though the who, what, when, and where of my personal salvation experience are unique to me, the gift of salvation by God’s grace is not – anyone can have it. Plus, there are no pre-conditions you have to meet. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve been through tremendous and amazing change since I became a Christian, but God didn’t ask me to make those changes before He would consider saving me; He took me right where I was.

No doubt you’re familiar with verse 16 in the third chapter of the Gospel of John in the Bible. (Even if you’re not familiar with the verse, you’ve probably seen someone holding up a sign at a sporting event with “John 3:16″ written on it in big letters.) In that verse, John tells us that God loves us so much – all of us, whether we’re nice girls who love puppies and kittens or bad guys who do their best to destroy others (like the now deceased Mr. Osama Bin Ladin) – that He provided a way for us to escape an eternity in the torment of hell paying for our sinful nature. He sent someone to die in our place, as our proxy; and not just any someone, but His son, the only one who could possibly manage to live a sinless, perfect life here on Earth.

That act of dying as me and as you was a gift – there were not strings attached. John tells us that anyone who believes that Jesus died for them and accepts that free gift will live for eternity in God’s presence. It doesn’t say that anyone who first gives up drinking, or cheating on his taxes, or gossiping about her co-workers, or sleeping around and then believes that Jesus died for them will spend eternity with God. In John’s own (inspired) words, he simply says:

“…anyone who believes in Him will not die but have eternal life.” (NIRV)

There are no other conditions listed. That’s grace, pure and simple.

If you haven’t received that gift, leave a comment and let me know – I’ll be glad to share what I know and help you find the resources for the rest.

Bonus

As promised, here is your bonus for reading to the end. As we were making our way through the Africa section of Animal Kingdom, we stopped to watch a group of musicians and dancers perform. To encourage a little audience participation, one of the guys circulated through the audience grabbing poor souls who were unable to protest enough to avoid public humiliation. Unlike me, Judy was able to elude capture, but she didn’t waste any time kicking her camera into video mode.

Although my performance went on for what seemed like hours, fortunately her camera only had enough memory to capture these few seconds of me shaking my groove thang:

What can I say? When the big guy grabs your wrist and says “dance!”, you dance…

However, this year’s crape myrtle post isn’t devoted to clever wordplays or boasts about bargain-basement horticulture, but to the beauty of God’s creation gracing the grounds of the Lizard Lounge right now.

It also brings to mind these words from Jesus, as reported by Matthew in chapter 6, verse 29: “…Not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.”

Jesus talks a lot about getting our priorities straight in this chapter, going on to tell us in verse 30 not to worry about any of our needs, including food and clothing, because God already knows we need these things. And, just like these beautiful crape myrtles, He says that if “that is how God clothes the grass of the field…will he not much more clothe you?”

Although the trappings of the day-to-day can sometimes seem insurmountable, as always, Jesus makes it really simple. In verse 33 He says to just “seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

Kind of takes the stress out of the day and leaves lots of time to stop and enjoy life here at the Lizard Lounge…

That didn’t last long. I quickly discovered they have a proclivity for munching on my Philodendron and Bougainvillea, leaving ragged, skeletal, decidedly un-ornamental leaves like those seen in the photo below.

Of course you know me and my flora – that meant war.

If you’re squeamish – or Buddhist – you might not want to read any further.

After discovering they’re all but impervious to pesticides, my extermination method of choice became stalking my planting beds with a pair of garden shears in my hand and…you know…don’t make me say it. (It rhymes with zecapitation.) Partly because that’s just the best way to get rid of them and partly because it’s very satisfying. Messy, but satisfying.

So by summer’s end, the mounds of lubber carcases in my yard led me to believe I had single-handedly rid much of central Florida of this eating menace. Foolish, that.

As the blond, diminutive, children-of-the-corn waif with the Margaret Keane eyes sing-songedly proclaimed in front of the static-y TV in Poltergeist II, “They’re b-a-a-a-a-ck.”

A week or so ago I discovered a fresh crop of these heinous, Hadean hoppers. So once again I’m spending a goodly portion of my (what should be pleasant and relaxing) outdoor time patrolling the yard, looking to vivisect a few of these guys. Or gals. Doesn’t matter – I’m neither misogyn- nor misandr-istic in my hatred for them.

I have no doubt that, had the snake been busy or refused the job in the Garden of Eden, the Lubber would have been next in line (except his mouth would have been so full of plant life that Eve would have been like “What?”).

I mean, I love the hymn “All Creatures of Our God and King” and all, but this particular creature has got to go.

It’s shear madness…