I had to work Saturday, but we have Monday off for first day of buck season. I suppose I should feel guilty, having a holiday while thousands of Bambi's decendents take their first step towards venison burgers. But I don't. Call me callous, but I like venison. I doubt I'd ever take up hunting. I'd be too afraid of making a bad shot. I will accept any venison steaks anyone has in surplus though.

So last night started my weekend. I drove home in the midst of a gusty wind storm. The winds were so bad that a construction sign along the highway in front of my house blew into the street just ahead of the car before me. They made a nice job of avoiding it; had that been me I'd probably be crying into this journal now about the hundreds of dollars of damage the sign would have inflicted on my car. I had plenty of time to stop though, while the car in front of me made a very slick maneuver that took it off the road, halfway up a small embankment by the roadside, and then around and down back to the road surface. An SUV probably would have tipped on its side if it had tried that stunt, but the little Mercedes that accomplished this trick just kept on going without missing a beat.

More to say, but it'll keep. I need to rest up for my big day off tomorrow.