Sugar-Coated Pecans on Toucans in Tin Pan Alley for Supper Again

I was in the study/lab/front bedroom/junkroom composing a symphony (yes, writing mathematical formulae can feel like that - what is music, after all?).

"I was in..."

The start of the first sentence of this blog began a train of thought, not a beguine, and diverted me from the path I intended to take.

I wanted to express my thanks to those I have not thanked lately, like Jason and Danielle of South Side Swing and one of their swing dance students, Brianna, for bringing my wife and me into the world of 5-6-7-8 dance routines.

After 25 years of wildly thrashing on the dance floor, much to my wife's tolerance (if not impatience or embarrassment), I have joined the throngs of men who give in to their wives' demands to look like one half of a coordinated couple on the parquet.

We have learned, if not perfected, one of many swing styles, this one called Lindy, if I remember correctly.

Thanks to the folks at Alabama Youth Ballet for the use of their facilities.  It is interesting to learn to dance in a building where ballet and martial arts are taught at the same time.  Sometimes, I feel like I am hearing dancers in tutus being tortured by karate chops (or is that taekwondo* next door?).

Much to learn, much to learn.  I am at the newbie mercy of my dancing instructors.  Patience, little grasshopper, you will learn to swing without upsetting the rice mat.

[*the blogger dictionary wants to change this word to Wonderbra - interesting]

But as usual, I digress, my thought set compressed against but decompressing from the style of writers like Mary Roach, John Locke, James Joyce, Douglas Adams, etc., who wander far afield and may discuss the philosophy behind the design of portable toilets to highlight the need for better television remote control devices just to conclude that the random spread of tree limbs in a forest does not constitute the secret code of a group of nomad herders on the upper steppes of Nowheresville.

I suppose I will not return to the thought that attracted my body to the virtual thought set extension system of wireless keyboard and mouse to announce to you...

Oh yeah, that's it!

I have found, in a dusty old volume of chemical formula conversion tables, the necine bases needed for the internecine basis upon which that which cannot be told or mentioned can be written about in the first epic volume of an X-part set of technical manuals for translating the definition of materials which do not exist in the universe as we know it.

Exciting, is it not?

More as it develops.

I have my programmers running more "what if" scenarios about the changes to the 1000-year plan should we release the full description of the weave pattern that is fully exposed in and around us all the time, ripping apart the fabric of space and time as we see the universe today.

"Parallel universes"?  Ha!  What a childish concept.

Do I hear the Big Bang fizzling out?

But I get ahead of myself, as usual.