In the time when man reckoned his life by season and snow, it was called the hunter's moon. The hunter's moon meant many things, sinking low in the sky, gravid with the promise of winter; the time to procure the beast and fowl that, preserved, would be the mainstay of winter.

In the time of rapidly shifting electrons, it is nothing more than an impediment to the Leonids.

Not exactly a site change, not exactly a sleazy update: nautilus-blue.net is now open for business. I strongly suspect that none of you will care, and if so, then I've done things right.

I'd said some time ago that I was thinking of putting together a second site that does nothing but provide a home for the linkfood I run across as part of my daily reading. The posts just don't fit on cat.net, but I was getting really tired of bookmarking and bookmarking and bookmarking endless sites.

You just thought I was teasing you with a subject line such as "eggbeater Jesus." Trust me. I'm not.

You know how every town has its share of odd and bizarre landmarks? We've got our share. If you ask most residents about the most memorable landmark in Huntsville, anyone who has been here for five minutes will tell you that the full-sized rockets standing upright by the Space & Rocket Center are the most memorable sights in Huntsville.

*Anyone who has been here for five years will laugh at the idea of Sprocket being the most memorable landmark in town. Any old town, they'll tell you, can put up a fake rocket (see also, that little visitor's center on I-65 at the Alabama/Tennessee border just north of here). They'll drive you down I-565, turn south on Memorial Parkway, take the Governors Drive exit, and tell you to keep looking to your left.

It takes a truly special town to have an Eggbeater Jesus.

It's just criminal, these days - a girl can't even settle in to write a good chunk of PHP without being asked if she wants to have an affair. Whatever is the world coming to? How will I ever manage to get this silly alphabetizing function to work properly?

Today's winner is Yahoo account jon4hotfunn, whose profile (or complete and utter lack of it) can be found here - perhaps we should all say hello?

Past the "recently on winamp" list, I rarely acknowledge when a particular piece of music is flooding through my mind as I write, despite the fact that it happens often. Tonight—an exception. You can pick up an MP3 copy of "Story of Your Bones" at jennifernettles.com (it's under 'media'). She's an independent artist based in Georgia. Might not be to your taste, but it's worth pointing out.

Our heating system contains a timer. If I'm up past eleven p.m., which I often am these days, it's usually the chill in my toes that tell me of the drop in temperature. My hair—probably close to two feet long now—serves as a slight blanket of warmth around my ears and shoulders, but my naturally chilly toes (a feature, not a bug, my family assures me, though Jeff may disagree) require a bit of help in staying warm.

Last night I lay in bed, half-watching the softly-blue moonlight as it filtered through the slats of the miniblinds and settled over Edmund, who lay with me, snuggled in the covers of the guest bed. The light flowed, soft, indirect, over white whisker and orange stripe alike.I could not sleep. There was no point in tossing and turning in a bed shared with Jeff. He needed his sleep. Better to keep my insomnia to myself, and let at least one of us wake up rested in the morning.