Hello, Mom, and hello sibs all! Forgive me; I have been carving my way back to cyber space through a dense forest of man-eating Bekins Boxes (boxius Bekinses) who will grab a man by the wrist and snap his spine with one twist of gravity, drain the life blood from his like a child-bearing copperhead, and leave him him limp and wasted fearing to move until dawn. M y steadfast Leatherman at hand, I carved and tore at the frabjous foe. Box after box, after box. And still they came.

And as if that weren't enough I was beset bya plague of Internet Connectivity Wobblies whose fearsome screams can strike terror into the stoutest heart. They, too, I conquered, thanks to my trusty iPhone and my deadly tongue and keen wit.

The Frumptious Buyer beleaguered me, and the Gross american Lender nearly undid me (usuruous Americanus) with his time-stealing breath.

Now, we have every box unboxed and most furniture has found a place for now, and after carving open sixty-two cases of books, I have managed to connect my beloved puter to the new Internet of the South (Timus Warnerus Southronitus) and make my way, scarred, aching, exhausted, bruised, battered, bloodied and limping but unbowed, mind you, back to Mom's welcoming bosom.

The house is everything we hoped--the ancient (1859) stairs creak with the ghostly memories of antebellum merchants and fiery rebellious youths and their beloveds from long ago, now returned to dust in form, but still alive in the eaves of spirit. It is large and comfortable, with a wholly redone infrastructure from foundation up, modern appliances, tastefully integrated into the original aura of the old place so that the ancient and the brand-new combine in harmonious decorum.

Wife, son and myself are very happy with the town, the neighbors, the street, the house, and the dog is delighted with her expansive domain, a large fenced-in back yard where she can cavort. I played a set at the nearby Nash Strreet tavern last night, where Mayor Tom is a regular, and he 'llowed as it was pretyy darn good and I should consider myself a local now.

Thanks a million to Stilly for her kind hospitality, from which we slipped away all too soon. It was one helluva Nodyssey, let me tell ya, but we have landed safe and found our haven port at last. I sahll never move house again, even if the Trumps move to Hillsborough,.