Love, Choice, and Destiny knocked on your door; you were gone. Sold your world to keep it free. Are you lonely tonight, Mr. Gone?

Anybody know anything about grants? And/or writing grant letters?

All righty, Loyal Reader. Forty-four degrees is too damn cold. Time to fire up the woodstove. I can conserve pellets no longer. I will leave you with a lovely love story before beddy-bye time.