Today's sponsor

Ads by Project Wonderful! Your ad here, right now: $0

Metadata

Blog entry 2010 of 2543.
· «· Permalink · »
· 7th January 2007

Tags:
church
~day
~folk.firinel
~gnome

Commenting is currently not enabled, but you can email me.

Copyright © 1997-2010
Thomas Thurman.
Site design by Firinel Thurman.
Photo by Alex Turner.
Validate.

Epiphany weekend

Happy birthday to Firinel the wonderful. Thank you for sharing life with me. It was Fin's birthday weekend, and we spent lots of time together cuddling, and it was happy.

I went to buy Fin some port from the state store. (You have to buy alcohol from the state in Pennsylvania.) I said to the assistant, "Where is the port?" She stared at me and said, "What's port?" I was reminded that I don't currently live in the most thriving cosmopolitan metropolis, or even Cambridge.

Today in church someone prayed for the diocese of Llanelwy; I think it was on a cycle of prayer. No, they didn't use its English name, they actually said the name in (some distant approximation to) Welsh; I'm not sure why. The intercessor had no idea how to say "Llanelwy", though; I found her afterwards and explained.

Also, as you know, our washing machine broke.

I am puzzled by the results of the libcm tests, but I still think the best answer will be releasing it and letting people play with it. There seem to be a lot of people around who think I know something about compositing window managers (just as some people think I know about washing machines), but I don't know a whole lot about either; I'm just trying to pull things together with what I can find out. There are a lot of people around who know far more than I do, I'm sure, and if they could help out some, that would be wonderful.

People liked the washing machine story so much that I think I might make a "Myfanwy teaches Josefina about Perl" photostory.

Here is a sonnet for you all to read, and criticise if you like.

Here from the hilltop down towards the dell

I'll wander till this evening, I don't care.

An afternoon all fertile with the spell

Still calling me: be still and drink the air.

And so I'll pause, and ponder as I hike,

I'll take my time before the valley floor,

And meditate, and maybe, if I like,

Climb back again and walk the path once more.

  Full twenty years I've walked this hillside trail,

  And every time it makes itself anew;

  Unveiling as I head towards the vale,

  A flower unseen, an unexpected view...

Again I lose my footing with a scream,

Fall forty feet, and drown beneath the stream.