"Though they go mad, they shall be sane..."
A modest sort of St. Patrick's Day. I hung an trídhathach in the window, as I've done every year since - I'm not even sure I can recall. Maybe as far back as 1994.
A beautiful sunny spring day.
I spent almost four hours rewriting the geology section for the macrobaenid paper - again - which left me exhausted and oddly frustrated. I sent it away to Sandy and Jun Ebersole. Jun wrote back, pointing out a rather bone-headed mistake I had made. I did not have the heart to make the correction today. I'm taking a break from it tomorrow to work on fiction, on "Night Fishing," then making the last round of corrections on Saturday. Then sending it off to Drew Gentry and Jim Parham, my coauthors, and it'll probably be out of my hands until it comes back from peer review of the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, which will be many months from now, most likely.
The package from the Yale Peabody Museum, which I have been waiting on since November, arrived at McWane this morning, but I will not be able to open it until Monday.
The afternoon's comfort film was Steven Soderbergh's brilliant Solaris (2002).
Which is why Dylan Thomas is in my head.
Anyway, in the evening I got a little ill, which sort of spoiled dinner. I listened to the Pogues and the Dubliners and the Irish Rovers. I watched television.
And that, my kittens, was today.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
9:16 a.m.
A beautiful sunny spring day.
I spent almost four hours rewriting the geology section for the macrobaenid paper - again - which left me exhausted and oddly frustrated. I sent it away to Sandy and Jun Ebersole. Jun wrote back, pointing out a rather bone-headed mistake I had made. I did not have the heart to make the correction today. I'm taking a break from it tomorrow to work on fiction, on "Night Fishing," then making the last round of corrections on Saturday. Then sending it off to Drew Gentry and Jim Parham, my coauthors, and it'll probably be out of my hands until it comes back from peer review of the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, which will be many months from now, most likely.
The package from the Yale Peabody Museum, which I have been waiting on since November, arrived at McWane this morning, but I will not be able to open it until Monday.
The afternoon's comfort film was Steven Soderbergh's brilliant Solaris (2002).
Which is why Dylan Thomas is in my head.
Anyway, in the evening I got a little ill, which sort of spoiled dinner. I listened to the Pogues and the Dubliners and the Irish Rovers. I watched television.
And that, my kittens, was today.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
9:16 a.m.