Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

Lordy, I got the screamin'-muscles-the-day-after-the-first-bout-with-mowin'-the-yard-and-weedin'-the-flower-beds-blues -- da dum, da dum!

But, I can hold my head up in the neighborhood and in Manworld again -- or, as I malapropped talkin' to Dr. ER on the phone last night, I can hold my man up in Headworld, to which she snorted, "I didn't know it had gotten that big."

Har har har.

The front yard was such a challenge because, one again, I have neglected my nuts. The new mower mulched 'em pretty good, but I'm going to have to give 'em a good scrapin' tomorrow.

There was a sad -- and gross moment -- out back, when I finally remembered to remove and discard the drip pan from my trusty Weber, which was plumb full and sloshy with goose grease from the last time I used the grill, which was before Mama took a turn for the worse.

That day, she was in a hospital suite, not just a room, and was alert and pretty much knew what was up. I'd told her all week that I was going to roast a goose for New Year's on my grill and bring her some, and she pooh-poohed the idea.

But when I brought it, she liked it in spite of herself, and actually ate quite a bit, enough to impress her nurse. And I'm stopping now because damn it to hell, I miss my mama.

Here. Go read Dr. ER's "Open Letter to President Bush." It's a repeat, but timelier than ever.

--ER