A bientot placid setting.
Hello oddball Middling City.
Back from five or so day sojourn with Kennedy et al up there in the north next to a multi-bayed lake rimmed with rock and bass and tree life.
Was alarmed into abode and drifting away into Z-Land when *suddenly* there was a loud bang. I had my cellphone in the room and after my heart jumped out of my body and I listened for what might come next I knew I had to make a call. In lieu of 911 called my mother, who I knew would still be up reading.
I described the noise. Twice.
A LOUD BANG. Then I said Wait a minute, I want to be sure I don't hear anyone in the house.
My mother had me describe the sound and then offered this comforting question:
Do you think it was a shotgun blast.
Onwards.
Had to do some tech errands today and get a new surge protector as the dang-blamed thangs do not last for forever. I had a thought to replace its sealed lead battery but changed my mind once I saw the warning about electric shocks and the like.
Settling all sorts of client-tech problems or miasmas as well as feeding the lurking and feral cats. Are they responsible for the shotgun blast sound. I think not.
Could it be the nearby crackhouse.
Could it be the Rockin' for the Lord church.
Someone I spoke with today suggested weakly an earthquake.
Speaking of weather-related items, Karen informs me that her new home in LA (as in Louisiana, not the city of angelic rockstars) is not affected by that bitch Katrina.
And onwards again.

Love of mystery.