A Single Layer

I was going to give you a small simple poem about a coward and a king's son, but then I looked at it and said to myself 'whatever for? just because I feel like typing?' Here's one with merit: a Sonnet, by William Wordsworth The World is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses of Proteus rising from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

In case no one noticed, I changed the title of this blog yesterday. Was that yesterday? I think so... Anyway, that sort of thing happens now and then. It's nothing to worry about; I just have a gypsy for a heart, Romany bones. Cannot settle in a single self. Mebbe that just means I'm from California. or America. or Earth. The desert sky is bright with clouds. The fish wish for more water, and my hair needs some managing. I think it's time to get going. Day.

Peter and the Starcatchers by Ridley Pearson and Dave Barry Absolutely worth your while. While it's hardly a work of transcendently mystical childhood magic, it's a remarkably original - but consistent - take on Barrie's curious classic. I have heard from a book-shopping child-reader that the third in the series, Peter and the Secret of Rundoon, isn't nearly as good as the first two. But the first was pretty darn good, so that leaves 'not as good' to be rather not that bad. Pearson and Barry depict the old familiars (Smee, Hook, the Lost Boys) with creative flair. It does not feel like they are rewriting them as much as shedding new light on their origins. Which was, incidentally, the point. Though I will admit that the ending felt a bit too tidily wrapped up. Knowing that there are sequels, I couldn't help but feel that some things could have been saved for later - the bit about Peter flying and his youth and the chomping of Mr Grin. None of this will make

Girls' Day Out at the county fair today. My mum bought be a magical magnetic anklet that will hopefully help with my mysterious circulation dysfunctions. I ate gyros and baklava, the latter originally in utter forgetfulness of my sugar 'vows' - and after originally, in disappointed resignation. There will hopefully be some interesting photos in the future portraying a unique response to my first ever consumption of an entire date. Minus the seed, of course. Duh. And then there were the sheep and the goats, presently side by side, but soon to be sifted and divided in the auction on the 23rd. I said 'hello Banjo!' to most of them, so Banjo the goat was greeted whichever one he was.

let me not be dissolved into a world without particularity becoming god who is all and nothing and moderately neither presumption Let me be the daughter of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Rightly honouring the distinction of distinctiveness. and the distinctiveness of Him who has named you particularly among all the stars.

B: What, no ruminations on Ash Wednesday? M: Apparently not. B: Did you learn nothing? Experience nothing? Feel nothing? M: No. I mean, yes. I mean... whatever. How is it your business? B: So, you don't want to talk about it? M: I don't mind talking about it, but what's there to say? There are the ashes, penitence, prayers... B: What are you giving up for Lent? M: None of your business. B: Geez. Touchy. Sorry I asked. M: I mean, it's not like it's a secret... except, since it's supposed to be a kind of fast, I suppose it is. Isn't it? B: Sure, whatever. M: No, really? Is it secret or not secret? B: You're not supposed to announce it to the world like it's a big sacrifice, and you're certainly not supposed to complain about it. But if you gave up meat or something and someone offered you a pork chop, it would be better to say 'I'm not eating meat during Lent' than 'Oh, no thank you, I've eaten.' Because the last could be bo

I know the reason that we celebrate Groundhog's Day is that they faithfully predict the persistence of winter or the coming-on of spring. What I don't understand is why this sort of thing is a celebration. Or, rather, why it gets a spot on our calendars, a fixture in our stores, and lovely plush toys like the one featured here (left). But then, I suppose I don't understand most holidays that aren't actually Holy Days. Mother's and Father's days I get, but it hardly bears mentioning that those should be far more frequent than once a year. I have a soft spot for Thanksgiving, but it is all too easy for that day to mean little more than socially-approved gluttony. So, while I do love it, I am hesitant to give it whole-hearted approval. Presidents Day, Memorial Day, etc.: these are good reasons to get out of school or work, but I don't think I have ever actually observed them according to their original purposes. Though, when I think about it, the only holiday I