dchenes: (katana)
Went whale watching yesterday. I swear I run on salt-water batteries, because I'm always happier when I've been on (or in) the ocean for a while. (See "Have Me" by Carl Sandburg and "The Sea and the Hills" by Rudyard Kipling.) And there were a mess of whales to be watched, too. The only part I didn't like was the standing up for 45 minutes in the line to get on the boat and then standing up for four hours on the boat after somebody's lady friend crowded me off the end of the bench. But there were whales! One doing barrel rolls and sticking a flipper up in the air and waving it. Who says you need to be human to be silly? Come to think of it, who says you need to be a mammal?

I brought my camera, but the battery wasn't having any. That's probably just as well because I would have been taking a lot of pictures of people taking pictures of whales. And I find that it's more fun looking at whales with the eyeballs rather than with the camera screen. I really ought to remember to do that once a summer or so. (Particularly when I've forgotten that there's more to weekends than laundry and grocery shopping and things of that nature. I couldn't get my act together enough on Saturday to do anything more than grocery shopping. Sigh.)

One down: I've gone downstairs and had my night guard adjusted. Now maybe I won't wake up every morning with my tongue crammed into the back of it. For the first week or so, my first thought on waking up was "Why can't I feel my teeth? There's something in the way."

HUNGRY. Back to 155 lb for no apparent reason, too. This is getting annoying.
dchenes: (Default)
The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.
dchenes: (Default)
Today's awesome: it didn't freeze last night after it rained, so the sidewalk I scraped the slush off last night was pretty much clear this morning. (It helps that I live on a hill.) And I get to have dinner with my sister tonight.

The rest of today is shaping up to be difficult. I have to get the Longer Service materials posted today for the meeting next Tuesday, and I'm waiting on ten cases that might be approved. The person who's supposed to be giving me these is in back to back to back meetings between now and 6:00. I have no idea how this is going to work, but I did mention I had dinner plans and was told I was absolutely going to keep them.

I guess if we're going to get another 6" of snow on Friday, I've failed in my attempt to keep the weather nice for the rest of the winter. I did try, though. (I finally bought myself a pair of snowshoes on Monday.)

In celebration of A.A. Milne's birthday, yesterday, and in anticipation (by which I mean dread) of the weather:

The more it SNOWS, tiddley-pom,
The more it GOES, tiddley-pom,
The more it GOES, tiddley-pom,
On
Snowing.
dchenes: (Default)
I use posts like the last one to remind me on days like this one that there's more to life than going to work, coming home, and falling over.

Last Tuesday I had a 13-hour work day, 8:30 - 9:30. Today was a 12-hour day, 6:30 - 6:30. Next Tuesday will be an 11-hour day starting at 6:30, and I hope I can manage not to have another long day before next Tuesday. I haven't done any grocery shopping worth speaking of in at least a week and a half, and I never got around to finishing the laundry last weekend.

This is why I am taking Friday off. Since we have Thursday off anyway for Veterans Day, I get a four-day weekend. If the Hairy Beasts didn't have vet appointments on Friday, I'd maybe get out of Dodge for a while. (Granted, the appointments are on Friday morning, and the Hairy Beasts will probably be quite happy not to have anything to do with me until at least dinnertime, so I could probably bring them back home and then go off elsewhere for the weekend. But I ain't. That would involve planning, and I ain't got the brain for planning lately.)

In which I wax philosophical )
dchenes: (Default)
The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.

sacrilege

May. 22nd, 2009 10:04 am
dchenes: (Default)
Last night I arrived at the conclusion that Carl Sandburg probably never owned a couple of cats. If he'd ever been run over by two cats chasing each other, he would've equated little cat feet with jackhammers, and I have yet to see fog come in like a jackhammer. Even when it drops on you all of a sudden, it's not all that hard.

Well, I was amused, anyway. (And I do like Carl Sandburg's poetry, but that particular poem has been done to death.)
dchenes: (Default)
The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.
dchenes: (Default)
The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.
dchenes: (Default)
The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.
dchenes: (Default)
Shel Silverstein wrote this ages and ages ago, but if you squint at it hard enough, it describes the GOP last week:

This boat that we built is just fine,
And don't try to tell us it's not.
The sides and the back are divine;
It's the bottom I guess we forgot...
dchenes: (Default)
Since there's nothing worth writing about going on here, and since my head is full of silly things, I present the following (which I have no idea as to the authors of):

What a wonderful bird the frog are.
When he stand he sit almost,
When he hop he fly almost.

He ain't got no sense hardly;
He ain't got no tail hardly either.
When he sit, he sit on what he ain't got almost.

and

When in danger,
When in doubt,
Run in circles,
Scream and shout.

If it can't be Friday, it can at least be silly. Because I said so. So there.
dchenes: (Default)
I posted this last February 14, and I think it's silly enough to do it again this year.


The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.
dchenes: (Default)
I just realized that I won't be home for dinner for the next three nights. Messiah tomorrow, Diesel on Tuesday and project night on Wednesday. Egads. That's a lot more going out than I've done since I've been back in Boston.

Just for the sake of being silly, I present the following, by the immortal poet Anonymous:

It was an evening in November,
As I very well remember,
I was strolling down the street in drunken pride,
But my knees were all a-flutter,
And I landed in the gutter,
And a pig came up and lay down by my side.

Yes, I lay there in the gutter
Thinking thoughts I could not utter,
When a colleen passing by did softly say
"You can tell a man who boozes
By the company he chooses"-
And the pig got up and slowly walked away.


What do you mean, thunderstorm? Isn't it November?
dchenes: (Default)
Every so often, a fragment of poetry I've read will take over my brain for a while. For the last two weeks, it's been "The Charm of the Bisara", which is a chapter heading from Plain Tales from the Hills by Rudyard Kipling.

Little Blind Fsh, thou art marvellous wise,
Little Blind Fish, who put out thy eyes?
Open thy ears while I whisper my wish -
Bring me a lover, thou Little Blind Fish.

It's not the subject, and it's not the imagery; it's the language. Something about the way the words go together, and damned if I know what it is, won't leave my brain alone.

For a while I kept a collection of poems that grabbed me like that. At least then when I got something stuck in my head, I knew where I could go look it up. I should start that again, if I can find the collection I already had.
dchenes: (Default)
Ocean, or lack thereof )

I wanted to get all sorts of things done today, and so far I haven't. I've got case study work and CLD work to do. Last night I went looking for parallel texts for the CLD stuff, and didn't find any exact parallels and damn few remotely close parallels. I hate that, because it's very hard to prove usage that way. So far this semester I've had a miserable time with CLD parallel texts, but I seem to be getting away with it. I wonder why?

I've probably got enough good high-octane coffee left for two more weekends, and then I'll be out of coffee entirely. I've taken to drinking high-octane coffee, but only on weekends, when it's a choice rather than a necessity. I don't know why that makes such a difference to me, but it does. My brain is a rather odd place sometimes.
dchenes: (Default)
White bird featherless flew from paradise,
Lit on the castle wall;
Along came lord landless,
Took it up handless,
Rode away horseless to the king's white hall.

It's still snowing. I don't think it's stopped since yesterday morning, but we've only got something like 7". The last time I saw an estimate, it said 1" today and 6-12" total, but I'm not sure I believe that.

Last night's project management meeting was about two hours long, and I really hope we get enough done on Thursday night so we don't have to have a meeting on Saturday. This can't be as difficult as we're making it out to be. Some of it is probably inexperience, but some of the rest of it is probably the fact that this is a group project. We don't argue, but we certainly discuss everything to death. We're trying to come up with a scope document for a mythical localization project, following which we have to bid against the other groups to actually be awarded the contract. Every week, e-mail, meeting and lecture reinforces the belief that I really, truly do not want to be a project manager.

I got a fair bit of glossary work done yesterday, mostly because I said To hell with the paper sources and started looking for French definitions and English contexts and definitions online. The articles I'm using as parallel texts all assume that their readers already know what apoptosis is; I didn't. I guess it just goes to prove that a translator isn't looking for this stuff to understand the content, but rather to see how the terminology is applied and how the language goes together.

I should go to the lab and mess around with web pages and word count. It only took me about ten minutes last night to discover that it's possible to either convert HTML to RTF or just do word counts on the HTML directly. (I should have known translators would want a utility for that. Silly me.)

I wonder how hard it would be to create a mixed US-International and US Standard keyboard layout? I like what the US-International layout does with diacritical marks, but I wish it wouldn't do what it does with apostrophes and quotation marks. I suppose I should add that to the list of things to look into when I have nothing better to do, which is a completely different list from the one of things to do when I have income again.
dchenes: (Default)
Because I'm silly, I present:

The Strange Case of Mr. Ballantine's Valentine, by Ogden Nash


Once upon a time there was an attorney named Mr. Ballantine.

He lived in the spacious gracious days of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Ballantine didn't know they were spacious and gracious.

He thought they were terrible.

The reason he thought they were terrible was that love had passed him by.

Mr. Ballantine had never received a valentine.

He said to his partner, My name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

His partner said, Well my name is Mr. Bogardus and I have received plenty of valentines and I just as soon wouldn't.

He said Mr. Ballantine didn't know when he was well off.

Mr. Ballantine said, I know my heart, I know my mind, I know I long for a valentine.

He said here it was St. Valentine's day and when he sat down at his desk what did he find?

Valentines?

No.

I find affidavits, said Mr. Ballantine.

That's the kind of valentine I get, said Mr. Ballantine.

Mr. Bogardus said that affidavit was better than no bread.

Mr. Ballantine said that affidavit, affidavit, affidavit onward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

Mr. Bogardus said that any man who would rhyme "onward" with "six hundred" didn't deserve any affidavits at all.

Mr. Ballantine said coldly that he was an attorney, not a poet, and Mr. Bogardus had better take the matter up directly with Lord Tennyson.

Mr. Bogardus said Oh all right, and speaking of lords, he couldn't remember who was the king before David, but Solomon was the king affidavit.

Mr. Ballantine buried Mr. Bogardus in the cellar and went out in search of love.

Towards evening he encountered a maiden named Herculena, the Strongest Woman in the World.

He said, Madam my name is Mr. Ballantine and I have never received a valentine.

Herculena was delighted.

Mr. Ballantine nearly burst with joy.

She flexed her biceps.

She asked Mr. Ballantine to pinch her muscle.

Mr. Ballantine recovered consciousness just in time to observe the vernal equinox.

He thought she said bustle.

She said, My name is Herculena the Strongest Woman in the World, and I have never received a valentine either.

Mr. Ballantine and Herculena decided to be each other's valentine.

All was merry as a marriage bell.
dchenes: (Default)
I posted a comment elsewhere that made me think I should post this here and see if anyone agrees with me. I think it could very easily apply to the US today, even though it was written by Kipling in 1909.

The City of Brass )
dchenes: (Default)
I have no parents:
I make the heavens and earth my parents.
I have no home:
I make awareness my home.
I have no life or death:
I make the tides of breathing my life and death.
I have no divine power:
I make honesty my divine power.
I have no means:
I make understanding my means.
I have no magic secrets:
I make character my magic secret.
I have no body:
I make endurance my body.
I have no eyes:
I make the flash of lightning my eyes.
I have no ears:
I make sensibility my ears.
I have no limbs:
I make promptness my limbs.
I have no strategy:
I make "unshadowed by thought" my strategy.
I have no designs:
I make "seizing opportunity by the forelock" my design.
I have no miracles:
I make right-action my miracles.
I have no principles:
I make adaptibility to all circumstances my principles.
I have no tactics:
I make emptiness and fullness my tactics.
I have no talent:
I make ready wit my talent.
I have no friends:
I make my mind my friend.
I have no enemy:
I make carelessness my enemy.
I have no armor:
I make benevolence and righteousness my armor.
I have no castle:
I make immovable-mind my castle.
I have no sword:
I make absence of self my sword.

Anonymous samurai, 14th century
dchenes: (Default)
Last night I made broccoli and oyster sauce. Apparently it was exactly what I wanted. Ahhhh. Much better...

I had a very strange dream this morning that managed to mix up the five years from 1999 to the present, and deliver them in a fashion that actually made sense at the time. People I know from completely different things were all together and all acting like there was nothing unusual about it.

I wish it would rain if it's going to. It rained yesterday while I was at the grocery store. In fact, it poured, but only for about five minutes. A downpour hitting a supermarket roof is louder than I expected. Anyway, by the time I got through the checkout, the sun was out again. (Lucky for me, since I made it to the store before it rained and got to come home after it was done raining.)

Time is a very strange thing. I keep worrying about buying plane tickets as if August was next month, and then I remember that it is in fact almost three months from now, and it starts to seem like ages away. Part of that is probably due to the fact that the next real benchmark of time for me is my birthday, which isn't until July, so all the rest of the time until then is fluid. June used to be graduation dinner month, and now it's just a month between now and July. Which reminds me of a poem by Walt Kelly, to wit:

"H" is not for Herman, not for Holly, not for Heart;
"H" is just a letter keeping G and I apart.

Brain? What brain? I haven't got any brain...at least not today...
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