Yesterday, I bought potpourri for the first time ever, and Rob cooked dinner for my parents and grandfather.

I also received this poem from Crash, who, amused by some nitwit’s comment about my nonexistent “Byronic locks,” tried to envision what I would have written had I been Lord Byron himself:

She Walks on Four Legs

She walks on four legs, not upright
Which for a dog would be unwise;
And both the colors, black and white
Meet on her face around her eyes:
That countenence inspires fright
When sleepy squirrels she doth surprise.

I also received this photo from Wayne, entitled “Gobby”:

Also, Goblin tried to eat the potpourri.