This is Major Tom to Ground Control. My circuit's dead. . . there's something wrong. I've been floating in a most peculiar way. It's been lonely out in space, and it seems like it's been a long, long time burning up my feed out here alone.
All this science I don't understand. It's not my job five days a week. Fingers and toes are crossed, with the wish that touchdown brings me 'round again to find that Stuart's hard work and the Feedburner work-around have tethered Blogger blogs back to Earth.
Speaking of Mars. . . er. . . Cornwall as the natives call it, it's not so bad here, and Esther is making progress too with seeing and being seen.
Commencing countdown, engines on. . .
Checking ignition. . .
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,
Four, three, two, one, liftoff. . .
I'm stepping through the Feedburner fix door.
I hope my spaceship knows which way to go.