I must state categorically that David Attenborough’s Life of Mammals absolutely and positively rocks. I just watched the one on insectivores, and while I could’ve gone to my grave without seeing thermal imaging of bat genitalia in action (on a female who was hibernating and the same color as the cave walls, which is evidentally a strategy the males use to avoid any chance of rejection–they wake up, have sex with a few snoring female bats, get a drink and go back to sleep) it is still a fabulous show. Golden moles! They’re unbelieveably cool! Why is there no golden mole art out there!? Should I introduce Goldie the mole as a completely gratuitous minor character simply to get equal time for golden moles? (This won’t happen. I suppose I could do a pin-up of a sexy golden mole…err…maybe not. But still! Must paint a golden mole!)

The good day continues, since our bill for James’s emergency room trip arrived, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared. A single commission oughta take care of it, and that is a Very Good Thing.

Also, lest the day become too perfect, I must bitch–I have now had three versions of some idiot’s public letter about how the Elfwood mods are meeeean to him inflicted upon me, through the various journals and one on woodchat. Even if I cared in the first place (I didn’t) this exercise in poor taste would have driven me to mild irritation. I mean, sheesh. Attempting to drag a private quarrel out into the public in the hopes that people will flock to you and there will be an outpouring of public opinion in your favor thus magically curing everything only works in musicals, and since nobody’s tap-danced by my desk singing “Seventy-Six Trombones” yet, I ain’t buying.

Crap, now I have “Seventy-Six Trombones” stuck in my head. My grandmother used to rent that video at least once a year…