(no subject)
I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled;
Not prone to overstated gushing praise
Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled
With overstretched opinions to rephrase;
But on the other hand, not fond of fools,
And thus, not fond of people, on the whole;
And holding to the sound and useful rules,
Not those that seek unjustified control.
I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least,
I think I am, and usually I'm right);
And when more ostentatious types have ceased,
I'm still around, and doing, still, alright.
In short, I'm calm and rational and stable -
Or, well, I am, as much as I am able. What Poetry Form Are You?
Just got home from the festival of lights at the zoo - it was cold as shyt, but beautiful. Had to go to the mall today for boots for the kids, which shattered my otherwise brilliant mood. Afterwards I came home and cried for half an hour, and tried to refuse to go to the zoo. I simply hate malls on a good day - and the weekend before Christmas is *not* a good day. This solidified for me why I hate shopping, and why I need to not enter stores between Thanksgiving and New Years day. Keerist.
Candle, I'm so glad the party went well, darling, I hope we can talk tomorrow. I miss ya. Misty, I'm glad James is ok. James, I'm glad you're ok. Pam, you've got my prayers. Elle, I'm sorry to hear about your family friend, but very glad your work function went well! Snuggs, I'm so sorry to hear about your kitty. Hang in there and remember, you'll see her again on the bridge. I think that's everyone, and if I missed anyone, blame it on my mall numbed, cold numbed brain. My love to you, all. *MWAH*