Once again August has reared its sweaty head, and if you know me you know that I hate August.  I must vacate.  The restive French portion of my blood storms the Bastille of my soul and looses the convictions to post here.  This August is particularly nasty with my mood darker and more bitter than usual due to circumstances completely within my control.  Those of you who know me may infer that I will derive pleasure from this emotional weather because you know that wallowing in misery is a favorite hobby of mine. 

So, I am taking August off with a planned return at the onset of September.  This will make me more myself, for I am confident the lack of distraction will allow these moods to become powerfully entrenched, thereby generating a circumspection with such a tremendous centrifugal force as to make me bleed from the ears.

 Ah, the dog days.  Woof.