The life of the Great Jomoe has recently become more serene. Which is a good thing. Life was starting to make references to "Jomoe souffle," "Vinaigrette a la Jomoe," etc., which was a deplorable state of affairs. However, with certain democratic niceties out of the way, along with public exhibitions of the frequency modulation capabilities of his larynx, Jomoe is now doing much better. His life, as he views it through his own eyes is much improved, although various impending dooms await another day. These will be weathered in their time. Life as it stands at the moment is worth living, and the faery or phantom of Bob seems to grace or haunt my abode more oft of late. "Silently the morning mist is lying on the water, captive moonlight, waiting for the dawn. And silently a baby's breath, a breeze, begins to whisper, 'the sun is coming; quick you must be gone.' All the flowers open up to gather in the sunshine, I do believe Summer's (Spring is the forerunner) here to stay...