Recently returned from a visit to my family in the homeland, where I argued with my father about Obama & drones 
not the bees, bought a bicycle which will hang idle for 51 weeks of the year, observed endless car commercials and mounting national hysteria about gas prices, grooved on flat country roads, visited the Toledo art museum, inadvertently led some guy on, and rediscovered the largely out-of-print Cleveland author Don Robertson, one of the greatest things since sliced bread. There is a story in all of these, but I’m still working towards the World’s Least Prolific Blogger title.
Miss Margaret Ridpath is a creation of Robertson. I haven’t finished the book, so I don’t yet know how the universe meets its fate.