If you're reading this, you already know: I did it. I've been threatening to do it for a long time, and now, finally, it's being done. By me.

I'm not yet prepared to say what "it" will be; hubris inheres in seeking to define a thing at its nativity. Or, as they say in the military, "Plan early, plan twice."

I can promise you this: it will be random. Random, from the Middle French randon (as in de randon, a randon - with speed, disorder, impetuosity) and the Old French randir, to gallop. Randir, by which the Old French took rand, a Bavarian spin on the Old High German rennen, and, literally, ran with it. Which is sort of like what I'm trying to do here.

Thanks especially to No-ray-ray*, my most loving and encouraging whip-cracker, for pointing out that even the most haphazard course is a move in the right direction.

* Her "G" name.