I am not always right, but I guess on the subject of frequently posting: I am supremely right. You know, it used to be that I didn't get everything done just because my brain works like a spoiled 3-year old: occasionally and only with bribery or threats, and even then it usually will wander off to do something else like color or nap. Now, I'm not getting all my work done because there honestly isn't enough time to do it all. Finally, it has come to this critical-mass point; ironically I know this isn't even half as bad as it's going to be. Today is a week away from last entry. I spent the weekend on a field trip for Non-Vascular plants up at Shoals Marine Lab in new england.

New England is a funny place, and definitely a bit spooky; I kept hoping I'd run into Stephen King at a grocery store, like this kid in third grade once claimed to have done. THAT would have been pretty neat. But after getting run over by a van, perhaps someone else makes the excursions for him. This summer was a Stephen King summer, as I read several more of his works. You know, he really is a good writer, despite what anyone says. No frills, no fuss, just blood, gore, kinky sex scenes, and nostalgia. . .oh so much nostalgia. Oh well, the week is buzzing all over again, and I can't bear to go over the details again, it's tedious enough.