pre-bagel ramblings

The bullet point update.

• Adam is sadly neglected at home, but has managed to console himself by taking the dog to different parks and buying Halo 2.
• I am in rehearsals for Mu's Midsummer Night's Dream, which is going well.
• My work is going well: I have started giving 4th/5th grade tours, and am writing a tour for a group of college finance students.
• The dog continues to grow and has been celebrating his first Spring by digging holes in the yard. Destruction wears a cute puppy face.
• The dining room continues to be a source of mess and frustration. A few more weeks should see us ready to prime, though, and then paint, after which we will return to the question of how to refinish the trim.

It's hard to believe that the first quarter of 2006 is almost over, but I am looking forward to summer dinners eaten on the front porch.

Haiku for Tuesday

Oh, puppy, not that!
Why don't you chew on a stick?
Now that bowl has holes.
splace
It was warm enough this weekend that I put a plastic tub outside with water for Arrow. This morning, I came out of the house, and he was laying on the lawn chewing on it. When I grabbed it from him, he looked so pathetically sad that I gave it back. And now you must picture the dog running joyfully around the yard carrying a big Gladware tub. Laughter starts the day off right!

Love in the time of rain

In honor of rainy April being National Poetry Month, here is the the un-official favorite love poem of Thorne House:

Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

--Edna St Vincent Millay


Post your favorite poem in the comments.