This post has even less content than usual
I'm stopping in to say that I'm about to drop off the face of the online planet for the next 10-12 days or so, so to people I owe emails (especially joandarck and 
ghost_lingering!), don't expect anything prior to then. (Other things I swear I'm going to do when I return: respond to comments! Especially the ones on the 2000th LJ post, which I am enjoying.) In the meantime, if you need anything urgently (though I can't imagine why), you can contact brynnmck, who knows how to text me, since I won't have email access for at least half that time. (Or if you know my cell, you can also text me. Whatevs!)
ANYWAY.
Before I go, a few items:
Via
pacifi_cant, an extensive Castle pimping post.
And here is a fun article on Castle as well.
The Avett Brothers & Matt Pond PA are on notice for coming to Seattle the two weekends in the entire summer that I am already busy and can't cancel. THANKS, GUYS. THANKS A BUNCH.
Finally, April is National Poetry Month and many on my flist have been sharing beautiful poems. I'm not good with poetry - I don't have the patience or the brains, often, to understand it, and I admire people who do. But sometimes they come in forms even I can understand, like this one.
Song For A Fifth Child by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
D'aww.
Barring something unforeseen that I must share with y'all IMMEDIATELY, I'm off! Keep the Internets going while I'm gone. *g*
This entry was cross-posted at my Dreamwidth account. Please comment here or there.
ghost_lingering!), don't expect anything prior to then. (Other things I swear I'm going to do when I return: respond to comments! Especially the ones on the 2000th LJ post, which I am enjoying.) In the meantime, if you need anything urgently (though I can't imagine why), you can contact brynnmck, who knows how to text me, since I won't have email access for at least half that time. (Or if you know my cell, you can also text me. Whatevs!)
ANYWAY.
Before I go, a few items:
Via
pacifi_cant, an extensive Castle pimping post.
And here is a fun article on Castle as well.
The Avett Brothers & Matt Pond PA are on notice for coming to Seattle the two weekends in the entire summer that I am already busy and can't cancel. THANKS, GUYS. THANKS A BUNCH.
Finally, April is National Poetry Month and many on my flist have been sharing beautiful poems. I'm not good with poetry - I don't have the patience or the brains, often, to understand it, and I admire people who do. But sometimes they come in forms even I can understand, like this one.
Song For A Fifth Child by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
D'aww.
Barring something unforeseen that I must share with y'all IMMEDIATELY, I'm off! Keep the Internets going while I'm gone. *g*
This entry was cross-posted at my Dreamwidth account. Please comment here or there.