Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Return to Civilization

No internet. For several days. Yikes.

This, of course, is the man of my dreams. Jack, I think was his name. Opened my laundry room doors, poked around the wall a bit and shook his head. "Nope, you're not connected." I kind of knew that, it's why I called him and all. He went straight to work. A few beeps later, the slight rattling of a toolbox and some wires lying around and...the green light came on. Literally. The green DSL light which invites me to throw a scarf around my neck, jump on the 'net and start cruising the web with the wind in my hair again. A return to civilization as I have come to know it.

Honey's, I'm home!!!!

Monday, September 12, 2011

The Daffodils

by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
   That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
   A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
   And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
   Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
   Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee:
A Poet could not but be gay,
   In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
   In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
   Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Ten Years Later.

I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.
(Abraham Lincoln)

Friday, September 09, 2011

Moving Day

Moving day. My life in a trailer.

Correction. OUR life. Mr. Binks is a veteran mover and yet he still faces the day with a bit of trepidation expressed as only Mr. Binks can ~ gutteral, truckstop meowing ~ a widdy-biddy little paw reaching out through the carrier bars. He woulda preferred to ride in the back window.

There. Is. No. Food. Here. Who picked this place, anyway??????

Not quite sweet yet.
But it's home.