I was looking out of the second story office window this morning and commented that there was still snow piled along the west side of the driveway.
I looked again after getting home this afternoon. Mindlessly looking around I noticed a robin playing in the grass along the same side of the driveway. Then I noticed: No Snow!
It has been a long winter. I hope I didn’t just jinx it.
The snow tires come off on Saturday!!!
Occasionally, when a fit hits me and I reorganize my home office; I come across long buried memorabilia.
This time is was a wire ringed notebook of poems I wrote just before leaving for my stint in the Marine Corps, during same and a few years after.
What was I thinking? With what was I thinking, (Don’t go there!)
Who was this self-importantly bloated bit of pure pomposity? Certainly not me… Can’t deny it. It was handwritten in my once readable handwriting. Dribble, Dribble, double-Dribble.
The temptation is to burn it, or shred it first and then burn it.
Did I? Of course not. I put it back in its layer, like a bone, for some future archeologist to find and THEN shred and burn as they mumble to themselves, “Dribble, Dribble, double-Dribble.”
The moral here is to never clean the office again. Who knows what might be find in this box or that?
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In a day and a half over half a million people have watched this talk, at the TED website and on YouTube.
I am so proud of her.
The Art of Asking
Sun, 03 Mar 2013 10:59:00 GMT
Above is the beginning of Neil Gaiman’s latest blog entry. I have great empathy for him because I am as well very proud of my wife in the good work that she does in supporting children and the families of children with special learning needs.
So far this well touted blizzard has been very well mannered. Two PM was its scheduled time.
I find seeing questions on the various weather related sites as to the “scheduled” time for this natural phenomenon to arrive.
We are so attuned to seeing the world through the eyes of one lens or another, and there are SO many more lenses out there of late, that we have come to see the world as a scheduled event.
The close-by passage of an asteroid in the very near future is being posted with the times it will be visible with hand held magnification.
It takes away a little of the wonder, a little of the mystery of the world. Consider the mythology that would be written if our less electronically connected ancestors looked up and saw a rock flying really close to the earth. Now our reference point is it will pass inside not only the orbit of the moon but inside the orbit of communications satellites.
The glad tidings reported is that it isn’t “scheduled” to hit either the earth, the moon, and most important, any communications satellite. And we go about our business sure in the veracity of that information.
Posted in Musing
A hashtag on twitter is an indexing tool that allows users who don’t normally follow each other to open a discussion, add to a poll, or just add to the graffiti/noise. Don’t get me wrong here. Graffiti can be art and noise can be music when mindfully created and presented.
Paper.li is promoting the ongoing hashtag #Blogchat on twitter this month. They’ve broken the topics down starting each Sunday. The one beginning this Sunday is” Email + Blogging – This is always a fun topic, we’ll explore ways that email can help us grow our blogs.”
The one thing this hashtag has done is inspire us to take a poke at setting up a Paper.li newsletter. We did that at Belltowernews Daily.
I don’t plan to come near pumpkin pie until the family gets together again for the Christmas Holiday. I don’t love it, but I ate this pie twice a year for more than six decades. Twisted logic says this trend must continue.
Connected as we are in the beginning of the 2nd decade of the 21st century, it has become hard to be truly on vacation. I have tried to accomplish this by leaving my work cell phone in its charging station @ home.
A weak gesture, I know but the anxiety of not having it with me hasn’t diminished on this fifth of ten days off. Home is three states away.
My home phone rings through to one of our cell phones that work in patches of this, the rocky coast of Maine. But would work even think to call me at home? I know my home number is on noone’s speed-dial.
There are probably at least a half dozen ways to reach me, but without the direct umbilical i still feel disconnected.