Spring is coming. Where I live there are no new leaves, but aye, buds on some of the trees. The quince bulbs are insistently pink even as it rains and glooms. Soon there will appear a little white orb in the sky, one scored by the looping helix of red stitching. Take a moment from your snow shoveling to think of the accidental genius of that stitching, providing just enough irritation against air travel for the gangly pitcher to impart sensible “english”…
I’ve started another phase of my enterprise, and another and another. Imagine a rolled-up sleeves guy with a magazine-proletarian wrench pulling all he can muster against the nut of a phantasmagorical wheel. Everything takes time, but the plan is to offer you a quicker, easier, and cheaper way to purchase RallyBird Baseball. What a mogul I am! I could grow a twirl-able mustache, but then I’d be just another posturing hipster instead of Truly Special (which is now plain).
While I wait I’m investigating the further steps for the RallyBird Baseball Board Game. Fear not! That horrible process lies safely below the horizon (flat or round?–Controversial). Spring is coming. I reloaded the bird feeder and immediately fat, round birds started whacking at it with their ax-beaks. Whack, whack!
Thanks for your patience.