Sitting here watching the news, which was really not unexpected, I realize it's time for a change. I realize that both presidential candidates talked a lot about change, so that some might think we could expect change regardless of the outcome of the election. Cynics, on the the other hand, might think that neither candidate would actually deliver substantial change, and that it's likely to be business as usual. But I'm talking about change on a more local level. It was time to change the bumper stickers on my car, dubbed "The Protestmobile" by some of my friends.

As the presidential campaign enters its frantic final weeks with the outcome still in doubt, the amount of mail I'm getting from both campaigns continues at a steady pace. That's right, I said both campaigns. With all the new data-mining tools that politicians are now using to precisely target their appeals, it's a little surprising that both sides consider me a likely target. They probably don't really care about my vote. Kentucky is such a strongly red state that they don't waste time trying to pick up a few more votes here. But they still think there might be money in these here hills, and both sides think they have a shot at squeezing it some of it out of me.

This morning, I decided it was finally time to say Good-bye to Chowder. He had a pretty good life, at least in the dozen or so years that he spent brightening my life. His suspicion of strangers led me to believe that whatever life he had before mine might not always have been pleasant. But his life at Tatertown was mostly happy, until his quality of life started to decline recently.

We men are disgustingly fickle. It's hard to believe it has only been two years since I raved about the sleek, petite, figure of my latest infatuation. And now my attention has been stolen by one slightly less petite, but with unbelievable elegance and far more intelligence. I suppose even the most shallow man can only be captivated by empty beauty for so long before boredom sets in. Yes, it's true. I have abandoned my once-beloved Razr for a hot new iPhone.

Maybe it's Olympic fever in the air. Last weekend, Norm decided to display world-class athletic prowess. I'm not sure whether he was trying out for diving or eventing, but it was an impressive feat, even if I'm not sure it was completely intentional.

Browsing through the news, I noticed there's going to be a solar eclipse Friday morning, but it's not going to be visible here. I need an apricot scarf. And a Lear Jet, but that's just a minor detail. You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht. Your hat strategically dipped below one eye, your scarf it was apricot

About three years ago, I wrote about my less-than-happy experience with a gizmo that was supposed to allow my iPod to play through my car stereo. Eventually I gave up on it, and settled for listening to the same CD over and over until I got motivated to change it. Unfortunately, I was recently faced with another nuisance. The CD player has started skipping frequently, making it virtually unlistenable. Something had to be done.

It's been over three months since my last musings. I've had inquiries from readers hoping the hiatus was due only to writer's block and not some dire misfortune keeping me away from the keyboard. So I guess it's time to write something to put all fears to rest. My critters and I are indeed all alive and well. The lack of news here is due only to lack of anything interesting to write. Some might suggest that never stopped me before, so maybe I've just become more aware of not having anything interesting to write. In any case, interesting or not, I might as well sum up the last few months.

It's that time of year again. Birds are singing, grass is greening, flowers are blooming, navels are showing. That means yet another hunt season is drawing to a close. This season was cursed by some of the worst, wettest weather I can remember. We got off to a fairly good start in October. November was a little worse. December-March were the pits. I only hunted 10 times in those 4 months, because the ground was usually either too frozen or too muddy. But at least we managed to end with a pretty good day on Wednesday. Despite his lack of exercise, Crossbo was his usual super self. Have I ever mentioned I love my horse?

A couple of decades ago, my erstwhile sailing buddy and I were having deep philosophical discussion. The dialog had reached a level of profundity that can only be attained through ingestion of copious quantities of ethanol. Embarking on a radical new tangent, Dave suddenly blurted "J Matt, we need more dragons." This was somewhat confusing, as our lack of dragons didn't seem to be causing any immediate problems at the moment, but I astutely deducted that, given an opportunity, Dave would have an adequate explanation for this sudden need of which I was unaware.