The birds were lined up on the fence Sunday afternoon as if they were waiting for Suzanne Pleshette. This is 1/5th of the total number. Not hearing any schoolchildren singing a repetitive song, they eventually flew away.

"It wasn't Suzanne Pleshette," said the Giant Swede, who was having coffee and a cigar as payment for his stone-moving assistance. "It was a blonde."

"That was Tippi Hendron. Pleshette was the teacher who was a lesser part of the town's sudden surge of bird-disturbing sexual tension."

"Oh, right."

Stones? you ask. Rocks. Boulders. Saturday my Wife called the place that was supposed to deliver the stones to the house last Sunday. They had not answered any phone calls during the week. We realized we'd been calling the number of the delivery person who'd called last Sunday, and called the store's main number. This time someone picked up, and I heard her describe the situation. The owner did not remember us from last Sunday. It is a dull man who does not remember my wife. It is a duller man who does not remember my wife buying large rocks. Not flowers or mulch, but rocks. When she mentioned that I had accompanied her, he remembered. I must have cut quite a figure. That settled, she asked when the stones might be delivered. Pause.

“What?” she said. “Well, they weren’t delivered here.”

Long story short: they delivered them, all right! Odd we didn’t see them. Driver wasn’t in, might not remember where he dropped them off. Guess he runs all over town dropping off rocks, and no one keeps any thing like "business records."

I decided to take action, and drove up and down the street looking for the rocks. Of course, half the houses have stones in the front. He could've dropped them anywhere, and they'd just blend in. None of them called out as being our rocks. Where had they gone? It's a two-block street! Someone got three big stones, and thought Perhaps the Stone Fairy left them. No, too heavy for a fairy. Well, they have powers. Stone Gnomes? No, Gnomes have no powers.

A few hours later the driver showed up, drove up and down the street, and his memory was sufficiently nudged. He found them down at the end of the street, drove back to the store, drove a Bobcat to the house - a wooden pallet in the forks - and transported the rocks up the street to our house.

So Sunday would be stone-lifting action, in the 90s. At least I wouldn’t have to mow the lawn, because the lawn gets stressed when it’s really hot and it’s just been mowed and we haven’t had rain of any quantity in a while.

Yeah, that’s the reason.

Sunday comes and I realize that our plan - getting them up via Radio Flyer wagon - is ill-advised. I’d best call the Giant Swede and get a two-wheeler. But wife is insistent we give it a try, and sure enough, I’m able to get the first (smallest) rock to the first location (lowest on the hill) which means it’s possible. But there is a difference between putting a rocket in the troposphere and landing one on the moon. The second rock is probably 125 pounds. I roll it off the pallet into the tipped-over wagon, taking care when I right the wagon that the handle does not whip up and hit my head with concussive force, then I get it up the hill. I get it to the right place. Then something happened, and I’m not sure what, except that the rock is out of the wagon and rolling down the hill. It knocks off a chunk of the Kasota stone landscaping and comes to rest on the sidewalk. It is here I decide to call the Giant Swede and see if I can have the use of his two-wheel dolly.

As it turns out he came over to assist, and it was done in 15 minutes, at the most. There are now three rocks where previously there was not three rocks. I told my wife it brought a certain intentionality to the landscaping, and she agreed.

Now the weekend is at an end, and it is soupy with heat and humidity. The week begins (shakes fist, cursing) and I am still readjusting my metrics. Different deadlines, different duties. All I know is that I don't really know at all.

Our new Monday feature! The Gazettes provide a look at the commercial vernacular from 90 years ago. Sometimes they look forward, and just as often as not they reach back decades for a familiar look.

More whiskey!

One web hit: an old bottle with the Diodora name, 1910s, made by Jack Cranston. And it was corn liquor then.

Guess Jack didn't keep his trademark current.

You know, I don’t think anyone actually drew up papers of incorporation.

The obligatory train episode:

To bring you up to speed: Dick was in a boat that hit another boat and went kerblewie, as these things go. He was knocked out, too! Into nthe blue tent with you, Tracy. There’s a lot of boat action in this one, which isn’t particularly Traceyesque, but none of this seems like Comic Strip Dick.

Usually you think “they shot this day for night,” but this is like lunar-eclipse night for night.

Now Dick sets up a trap to get the Ghost, and he’s going to use the gold as bait. Word has leaked out that it’s going by train, because someone saw the title credits! But Tracy, smart ace that he is, decides to send it by armored car, and let the Ghost attack the train. He tells this to one of the members of the League of Plutocrats, or whatever the industrialists are called, and this gets right back to the Ghost, who goes invisible and steaks the truck. How? He gets in the truck and uses Onion Breath! It’s super effective!

Surprise: Tracy’s in the armored car! We go to an “abandoned barn” I swear we’ve seen blow up a few times.

The good guys show up, and it’s shoot-out. Serial shootouts are usually boring, but in this case one of the henchmen realizes Tracy is inside the armored car, shooting out, and so he comes up with a brilliant scheme.

Note the difficulty posed by heavy boxes of gold, impeding Tracy’s egress:

Turns out it was a ruse! The gold was in the train all along! So the Ghost’s men rush to THE TRAIN because there is A TRAIN that’s easily found in 1942. At this point Tracy is already en route by plane, and he has to warn the train guys! It’s not very effective:

Better go down and tell them in person, then. And so we have a rather unexpected cliffhanger:

I think ep 9’s title gets without saying.

Free version Monday at 10 AM CST. Gaffe fixed, I believe - turns out everything scheduled was going to Drafts, despite the little banners that said everything was scheduled to go out in ten hours, or such. Will keep a close eye on it this week.

And, of course, the Diner.

That'll do. Matchbooks await.