In need of something...

Yesterday, I left the office feeling really blue and decided I needed a long walk and some trees to hug.

I walked and walked and walked.

I spotted more deer that you could shake a stick at - at least fourty of them. I took a bunch of pictures of them - the better two of the lot are on the Flickr photostream on the right.

Unusually though, the deer didn't do much for my mood.

And then I remembered Sherri over at Matter of Fact had run a contest called "Caption My Picture" which is now over. Her picture has this ... luminous glory ... and you can see it (here). The photo was taken during a camping trip she took with her family and that story which includes some awesome outdoor photographs is told (here).

So with the sun setting quickly behind me as I hobbled homeward - my legs were aching badly from the roughness of the trail I had taken earlier - I decided to turn around from time to time to see if I could capture a photograph like Sherri's.

I didn't succeed - but I enjoyed trying.


Trailside


Buttonwood Bridge

Perhaps you'd like to caption these? I hope you will visit Sherri's place too.

Thanks for the Crabs, Chester!

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by...


And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.


I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;


And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.


I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

"Sea-Fever"
By John Masefield (1878-1967)

The flags flying at Rolph's Wharf on the Chester River (Chesapeake Bay) near Chestertown, Maryland are an interesting group. From left to right, under the Star Spangled Banner, "Don't Tread on Me", Republic of China (pre-WWII), Bulgaria, Turkey, and the Jolly Roger (which is actually on the Thomas J). The owner of Rolph's Wharf is an emigree from Turkey, having left there to find religious freedom in the USA. The other flags (excepting the Jolly Roger) are for his wife (Bulgaria) and his employees (China and the USA).


Chester the Peacock
You may remember the story of the injured Peacock chick (here) that my boat-door neighbor has as a pet. This is the woman that has only one leg but goes boating and swimming and everything despite the challenges. Mama Peacock had eight little babies back in June and one of them had a hurt leg. The hurt leg meant that he wasn't able to keep up with his siblings and Mama Peacock was getting more and more upset as she couldn't keep her little flock together. So the hurt little chick got to go to the wharf and enjoy rocking around in their boat. He's been growing pretty fast and he has a name now.

You'd think, Chester... Chester River, Chestertown... but noooooooooooo....

It's short for Chester Goode. Now some of you... ummm... more mature readers may remember the long (nearly forever) running TV show named "Gunsmoke" but the rest of you will be like me and scratching their heads, "Huh?"

James Arness played the lead role of Marshal Matt Dillon; Dennis Weaver played his limping sidekick, Chester Goode; and Amanda Blake starred as Miss Kitty Russell, owner of the Long Branch Saloon. So the trio in the boat next door are Captain Dillon, Miss Kitty and the limping Peacock, Chester Goode.


Doesn't that take the cake? Well, I thought so - until I saw the three of them take a boat out and go crabbing where they soon began hauling in some blueclaw crabs for dinner. They caught enough that they shared some with me! Thanks Chester! Enjoy playing with your Daddy's tail feather!

Its Party Time!

...We interrupt our regular programming with this breaking news from the Pie-In-The-Sky newsroom. Here now is Talkinhead Hypespewer.

Talkinhead: Good evening folks! This just in. Minutes ago, we received word that it might be some one's birthday next week. This is an unsubstantiated rumor and we are trying to get confirmation as we speak. We go now to the Beauty Queenies headquarters building and our reporter Dishy Dullfacts for details!


Dishy Dullfacts: Thank you, Talkinhead, I am at the scene of the alleged birthday party where you can clearly see, they have set out the "Caution Party Zone" Cone!

We see in attendence Little Iggy, Pointy Hair Boss, Multo and Miss Georgia, Miss New York, Miss Louisanna, Miss Confusion and even Miss Illinois who have gathered for a wild birthday party celebration. I've asked Miss Confusion to tell me just who the party is for, and she just says, "Hey, like, its for some, really like, cool chick, you know?" and then she blew her noisemaker in my face.

Talkinhead: Dishy? Is that really Miss Illinois? And is she smoking a joint?!

Dishy Dullfacts: Yes, Talkinhead, Miss Illinois is really here and she claims that the smoke is strictly medicinal to calm her nerves. I tried to ask her a couple questions but only I only got as far as, "I'd like to get to the bottom of where you have been..." when she started screaming, so I've not been able to find out anything just yet. Little Iggy? Can I ask you some questions?

Little Iggy: Oh wow, am I on TV? Can I give a shout out to some of my peeps?

Dishy Dullfacts: Little Iggy, just for whom is this birthday party?

Little Iggy: Hi Mom! Hi Harold! Did you see me in that Superbowl Depends for OCHA ad?!

Dishy Dullfacts: Ummm... lets try talking to someone else. Miss New York? Are you free for some words? Oh good, here is Miss New York. Hi there! And congratulations on being runner-up at first annual Miss America Conehead pageant!

Miss New York: *Giggles* Thank you Dishy! Isn't this the bestest party ever?!

Dishy Dullfacts: Who's the birthday person?

Miss New York: *Giggles* Oh! Its LadyStyx's birthday!! She's 29 again!!

Dishy Dullfacts: Oh! Happy 29th Birthday LadyStyx! All of us here at Pie-In-The-Sky news want to wish her the very best and hope she has many more!

There you have it Talkinhead! Back to you!


My thanks to Alice Kay for the "Caution: Party Zone" cone! :)

64 Years Ago Today

Note: I didn't write any of this article.

On the foggy morning of Saturday, July 28, 1945, Lt. Colonel William Smith flew a U.S. Army B-25 bomber through New York City. He was on his way to Newark Airport but for some reason he showed up over LaGuardia Airport and asked for a weather report. Because of the poor visibility, the LaGuardia tower wanted to him to land, but Smith requested and received permission from the military to continue on to Newark. The last transmission from the LaGuardia tower to the plane was a foreboding warning: "From where I'm sitting, I can't see the top of the Empire State Building."

Confronted with dense fog, Smith flew low to regain visibility, where he found himself in the middle of Manhattan, surrounded by skyscrapers. At first, the bomber was headed directly for the New York Central Building but at the last minute, Smith was able to bank west and miss it. Unfortunately, this put him in line for another skyscraper. Smith managed to miss several skyscrapers until he was headed for the Empire State Building. At the last minute, Smith tried to get the bomber to climb and twist away, but it was too late.

At 9:49 a.m., the ten-ton, B-25 bomber smashed into the north side of the Empire State Building. The majority of the plane hit the 79th floor, creating a hole in the building eighteen feet wide and twenty feet high. The plane's high-octane fuel exploded, hurtling flames down the side of the building and inside through hallways and stairwells all the way down to the 75th floor.

World War II had caused many to shift to a six-day work week; thus there were many people at work in the Empire State Building that Saturday. The plane crashed into the offices of the War Relief Services of the National Catholic Welfare Conference. Catherine O'Connor described the crash:

The plane exploded within the building. There were five or six seconds - I was tottering on my feet trying to keep my balance - and three-quarters of the office was instantaneously consumed in this sheet of flame. One man was standing inside the flame. I could see him. It was a co-worker, Joe Fountain. His whole body was on fire. I kept calling to him, "Come on, Joe; come on, Joe." He walked out of it.

Joe Fountain died several days later. Eleven of the office workers were burned to death, some still sitting at their desks, others while trying to run from the flames.

One of the engines and part of the landing gear hurtled across the 79th floor, through wall partitions and two fire walls, and out the south wall's windows to fall onto a twelve-story building across 33rd Street. The other engine flew into an elevator shaft and landed on an elevator car. The car began to plummet, slowed somewhat by emergency safety devices. Miraculously, when help arrived at the remains of the elevator car in the basement, the two women inside the car were still alive.

Some debris from the crash fell to the streets below, sending pedestrians scurrying for cover. The bulk of the wreckage remained stuck in the side of the building. After the flames were extinguished and the remains of the victims removed, the rest of the wreckage was removed through the building.

The plane crash killed 14 people (11 office workers and the three crewmen) plus injured 26 others. Though the integrity of the Empire State Building was not affected, the cost of the damage done by the crash was $1 million.

Source

Slatington, Pennsylvania

Martha from Meandering Martha has been posting "monochrome" pictures. Some of them are simply inspired!

I saw this black and white picture in a book called "Alco's to Allentown" by Thomas A. Biery and found it rather haunting. Its really amazing what you can do with black and white. I'm going to try getting some B&W shots with my camera.

In 1737, Nicholas Kern was the first white settler in what would become Slatington. Kern established a sawmill shortly after arriving. In 1756, Benjamin Franklin wrote that he had procured boards and timber from Kern's sawmill. In the 19th century two Welshman, who recognized its properties and importance from being used in Europe, discovered slate. A quarry was set up in 1845, and, in 1847, a factory was erected. In 1846, Slatington was incorporated into a Borough of Pennsylvania.


Please click on the image to make it bigger
Built in 1862, a year before Lincoln's Gettysburg address, Slatington's Lehigh Valley Railroad station was one of the oldest structures on the original section of the railroad built between Easton and Jim Thorpe.

The Lehigh Valley Railroad later ran from Oak Island, New Jersey (in the Meadowlands across the Hudson River from New York City) an Buffalo, New York via Towanda, PA and with a secondary line that ran through Monroeton, PA.

The sign reads 109.5 miles to New York City on left end and 338.1 miles to Buffalo, New York on the other end.

The station was destroyed by a high-speed freight train derailment on February 1, 1969. An old no-longer-used 6 inch water main used to supply steam trains with water burst in the basement of the station from the force of the impact of 31 freight cars scattering across the countryside - some of them going by way of the station's front door.

Otto Orkin, founder of Orkin pest-control is probably the best known native Slatingtonian.

Additional information about Slatington can be found here

The Name is Bond... James Bond

This weekend, I re-read a children's book titled, "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" when I noticed the author's name was Ian Fleming.

As you probably know, Ian Fleming (May 28, 1908 – August 12, 1964) was an English author and journalist. Fleming is best remembered for creating the character of James Bond and chronicling Bond's adventures his novels.

Initially Fleming's Bond novels were not bestsellers in America, but when President John F. Kennedy included From Russia With Love on a list of his favorite books, sales quickly took off. Fleming wrote 14 Bond books in all: Casino Royale, Live and Let Die, Moonraker, Diamonds Are Forever, From Russia with Love, Dr. No, Goldfinger, For Your Eyes Only, Thunderball, The Spy Who Loved Me, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, You Only Live Twice, The Man with the Golden Gun, Octopussy and The Living Daylights.

In 1961, he sold the film rights to his already published as well as future James Bond novels and short stories to Harry Saltzman, who, with Albert R. "Cubby" Broccoli, co-produced the film version of Dr. No. Neither Saltzman nor Broccoli expected Dr. No to be much of a success, but it was an instant sensation and sparked a spy craze through the rest of the 1960s. The successful Dr. No was followed by From Russia with Love, the second and last James Bond movie that Ian Fleming personally saw.


In an odd twist of historical fate, James Bond's name came from famed ornithologist James Bond, the son of the Bond family who allowed Ian Fleming the use of their estate in Jamaica to write his novels. The Bonds were wealthy manufacturers whose estate outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania eventually became the grounds of the Gwynedd Mercy College.

My Mother is a Gwynedd Mercy College graduate. Go Griffins!

What is your favorite "Bond" movie and who is your favorite James Bond?

For more on Ian Fleming

Bluebirds At Heebner Park

Sometime this week, exactly which day I don't remember, I stopped to walk around Heebner Green Space Park to see if I could get some photographs for a blog idea I had. That idea will have to wait until the creative moose swings by my neighborhood once more.

I didn't come away empty-handed or whatever the equivalent expression would be for "without an exposure or two on digital film".

I sat on a bench - which is unusual for me - and waited for whatever might come along. In the meantime, I enjoyed the pseudo-wildflowers at my feet.


Some butterflies passed my way and then with a flutter of wing beats, a Bluebird arrived on top of a nesting box about twenty feet in front of me. He looked at me.


And looked at me some more. For several minutes he eyed me, uncertain if he should enter the nesting box with me watching. I watched him closely too - wanting him to turn around so I could photograph his brilliant blue feathers.


The standoff continued for several more minutes until the Bluebird decided that he couldn't enter the nesting box with me quite so close. So off he flew - so suddenly I missed the shot of his blue feathers when he darted away to sit on a top of a nearby soccer goal post.


I at last could see his blue feathers but now he was too far away for a clear picture. Mildly frustrated, I got up and walked away past the nesting box. As I did so, the Bluebird flew over my head and swooped in onto the top of the box.


I quickly took his picture - and while it is still a bit fuzzy, the Bluebird of Happiness was with me. I quickly moved the camera setting to video and got him entering the nesting box to feed his children.



May the Bluebird of Happiness be with all of you this weekend.

This entry is dedicated to Queenie Jeannie.

Dear Diary - Difficult Words

"Why are we in Afghanistan?"

Recently I asked someone in comment whom I'll leave unnamed because I've not given them a chance to first comment on what I am saying here - "Why are we in Afghanistan?" and subsequently, "Is it worth the cost/price?"

My intent was to ask someone in a military family what our mission there was.

My thinking for doing so is admittedly muddled. I have grown cynical and mistrust the media hype and spin piled on top of the political babble [yes that is the nice word for what I really mean] that comes from the slimy spin artists and self-serving liars in Washington DC - So in part, my thinking was - go directly to the source - doing so was actually a sign of respect in that I trust and believe this person's response, if they were give me one.

I am without question, due to an upbringing in an Amish and Quaker environment of pacifism, anti-war. My ideal world would mean everyone leaving everyone else alone to live how they wish without interference. Our increasingly interconnected world today, however, makes this ideology ever more untenable and ever more difficult to put into practice.

I am not by any means spineless or anti-self defense. And with increased global mobility, the concept of self-defense and its limits have admittedly become a vague and difficult proposition in regards to where the line should be drawn.

However that said, I hold Veterans that have served honorably in the highest regard - many of them are in fact, my role models and heroes.

When I typed my comment I was thinking from with in my world view box. My mistake was to not consider the other person's world view.

They have suffered considerably as a family with a member in the military. They have experienced years of separation with its full spectrum hellish agony while he was on duty (for us and for ME). They also experienced being heckled by people here in the USA for being involved in a very unpopular war.

While I personally believe that particular war was an immoral war, mainly because it was fought under false pretext, fighting that war was not this person and their family's choice nor of course, was it any of their doing.

And as immoral or misguided as that war might be (and only the passing of years and history may eventually prove this contention right or wrong) - The other person's (and mine and ours) soldier's service or any other honorable soldier was and never will be called into question or be belittled in slightness way by me.

I personally cannot conceive of the American people not supporting American soldiers under ANY condition - those soldiers have a difficult duty to do what the our country's President in his role as Commander in Chief (C-in-C) orders them to do to their best of their abilities within the constraints of their own world views and morality all the while knowing they could be injured, maimed or killed.

If the public (which includes me) has a problem with that or any war - they need to take their opinions and questions to top of the chain of command. The onus and responsibility of addressing those opinions and answering those questions truthfully lies with the C-in-C and NO where else.

So with my comment with my ... unconsidered question... that I naively "spoke," I opened up all the hurts, deprivations, and even terrors that this person holds inside.

And for that I apologized. Profusely. I know not what more I can do - my desire to "un-speak" the comment and "un-ask" the question - and put back things I unwittingly opened up - can't be done.

My questioning did the very thing that runs contrary to beliefs I hold deeply within me. I hurt someone - someone sensitive, creative, and talented - and bearing the crushing load that comes with being a military spouse.

While the hurt person may or may not forgive me - I'm not the sort that easily lets himself "off the hook" - I need to better watch what I say and type - and to be more considerate of the other person's point of view.

That is after all, the fundamental basis of the ideal the Founding Fathers of our country had when spoke of "tolerance" and my own hometown's founding ideal of "Brotherly Love".

It is my hope - that this (one-sided) dialogue brings about a some understanding, tolerance and indeed, brotherly love.

And perhaps even more so, at an idealistic level, a furthering of those ideas that I believe in - while I struggle to better understand them myself.

My Hands

Tonight, I put myself in the figurative "timeout chair" and took a long walk to re-think about something that had transpired earlier in the day.

After a while - I got hot and sweaty - I saw some deer - and really didn't look at them much - being lost in thought - I was nearly run over by some people on bikes - but I really didn't look at them much either.


I ended up looking at my hands. They have been with me for a while now and they have been to many places and through a lot.

They have been mistreated - forced to hold a credit card and scrape ice from a windshield until they bled - been burned by spilled battery acid - have oozed from poison ivy rash - been seared by a soldering iron - stapled to a roof by a power shingle gun - and hacked by a wood shop power saw.

They, somehow through all that - remember textures - the soft pillow case at night - the rough permanence of a rocky wall - the smooth gloss of a polished piece of wood - the pleasant soak of warm water while washing dishes - the cooling touches of falling rain drops - and the silky softness of a dog's ear being rubbed.

They often wave - sometimes hello - sometimes goodbye - and sometimes with only one finger - be it the "we are number one" finger or the other finger that says something else entirely.

They sometimes shake - be it from nervous excitement - the cold - or clasped in a handshake.


They are often swollen and vacillate between numbness and sharp stabbing pain - they have no great skill or exceptional ability - the piano mocks them - painting even with a roller challenges them - sign language leaves them "tongue tied" - tying knots at the dock frequently baffles them - and sometimes just holding up a box or a drinking glass takes a bit of effort.

Each Monday morning, after a weekend away from a keyboard, they always need to be retaught where each of the letters are - and they insist on spelling the word "the" as "teh" no matter what day of the week.


They haven't done a lot of things - they haven't rocked a baby to sleep in a crib - or changed a diaper - or wiped a driblet of drool away from a face just learning where its mouth is - or lifted a car seat in or out of a car - or pushed a stroller through the mall.

They haven't held someone else's hands - or caressed a cheek - or rubbed someones shoulders - in a decade or more - they might as well be retired or put away in the back of a closet.

They do, after a fashion, hammer out words at the computer - sometimes slower than my mind wants to go - sometimes faster than my mind thinks things through - and sometimes they hammer them out without my mind...paying much mind to the words that they are forming.

Words that...can have unbelievable power - the power to lift someone from a dark place - the power to bring about a smile or a laugh or warm and happy tear - words of encouragement - words of sympathy and empathy - words of cheer - and congratulations - words of prayer - and shared hopefulness - and sometimes shared sadness.


They can also cause hurt. They have thrown rocks and sticks and held baseball bats, golf clubs, and hammers that collided with unprotected places causing pain and disfigurement.

Most recently they formed words that were thoughtless and hurtful. My hands could point - they have a finger that does that - to someone else or something else - but...

...they are my hands.

And the thoughtless words were mine. So now I force my hands to hammer out a few more words - words that they are familiar with - since they frequently make mistakes - words like "I am sorry" and "Please forgive me".

My hands are often clumsy - and don't go or do what I want them to do - but they can't run off without me - and I won't let them shirk being responsible for having caused someone to be hurt.

I can't promise they won't slip up again - but I'll try to do my best with them - they are the only hands I've got.

I am sorry.

My life, According to Fleetwood Mac

The Lily Pond with Fountain

Tori_Z, Lady Styx, Celtic Spirit, WendyBurd1 and some others have done this, and I think Punkn was thinking about doing it - so I thought I'd give it a try.

My life, according to...

The rules to this game are:

1) Answer the questions as well as you can, but using only song names from one artist.

2) Try not to repeat a song title

3) Pick your own artist, leave mine alone (to quote someone).

4) Tag a bunch of friends. Tag, you're it.


The water lilies sleep through the night

I confess a couple things.

One, I like what is now considered "Oldies". Who'd of thunk it?

Two, I have a fondest for One Hit Wonders such as Laura Branigan with "Gloria" and Charlie Dore and her "Pilot Of The Airwaves". So selecting a group with more than one (well known) song was a little hard for me.

I ruled out John Denver, Air Supply, Emily Lou Harris, Dan Fogelburg, John Mellencamp (what happened to the Cougar?), Rod Stewart and the Rolling Stones because some young friends probably have never heard of them. :)

I also had to rule out my revised versions of songs, like Oak Ridge Boys singing "Elmira". Sigh, you folks do not know how much you lucked out on that.

Anyway, My Life According to Fleetwood Mac:

1. Are you a male or female? -- Man of the World

2. Describe yourself: -- Skies the Limit

3. How do you feel? -- Hypnotized

4. Describe where you currently live: -- Safe Harbour

5. If you could go anywhere, where would you go? -- Everywhere

6. Your favorite form of transportation: -- Fireflies

7. Your best friend is: -- Gypsy / Songbird

8. Your favorite color is: -- Emerald Eyes

9. What's the weather like? -- Morning Rain

10. Favorite time of day: -- One Sunny Day

11. If your life was a TV show, what would it be called? -- [You Will] Never Make Me Cry

This is one of my most favorite songs by the way - I saw Christie McVie sing this while she was seated at the piano in a very short skirt, live - from the first row...

12. What is life to you? -- Monday Morning / Never Forget / Over My Head

13. Your relationships: -- [I'm just] Secondhand News

14. Your fear: -- Hellhound On My Trail

15. What is the best advice you have to give? -- Don't Stop [thinking about tomorrow]

16. If you could change your name, you would change it to: -- Tusk (The name is... Tusk... James Tusk...)

17. Thought for the day: -- I Wonder Why? (which contradicts #20)

18. How I would like to die: -- Homeward Bound

19. My soul's present condition: -- Bare Trees (or) Dust

20. My motto: -- I Don't Want To Know


Go and do what you want
I know that you have the need
You know that I'll wait, as long as it takes
So go and do what you want
You'll never make me
You'll never make me
You'll never make me cry

I may not mean everything
But I'm happy to have your love
So don't worry baby, I'll be alright
And I'll never make you
I'll never make you
I'll never make you cry.

I Missed the Memo

Yesterday I walked through my neighborhood to go over to the pond where I had spotted some purple water lilies in full bloom earlier in the week while driving to work. The pond is owned by a neighbor who runs a business called "Rainmaker - Fountains". Unfortunately, the water lilies were all closed up and in bed for the night. I'll try again soon in the morning hours.

...but on my walk to visit the pond, I got to thinking... (ut-oh!)


Did I miss a memo or something?


Was I supposed to plant flowers around my mailbox?


Did the township pass some sort of ordinance requiring blossoms around junk mail receptacles?


I started to think, "Well, they must have..."


...neighbor after neighbor...


"...does the mailman has allergies? is this a plot to keep him from delivering bills? If so, does it work?"


"I like this one, its not so overwhelming..."


"...or perhaps the brown dog and green ivy look would be more me?"


"My poor unadorned mailbox. I like the painted wrought iron and the red covered bridge...but inside it, will I just find bills and perhaps a citation for being in violation of the 'You Must Plant Flowers Act of 2009'?

I won't be alone if I do - one other neighbor must of missed the memo too."


"But I hope this neighbor never gets elected as a township supervisor though. Imagine them on the supervisory board with Mr. and/or Mrs. Cow?"

Down The Rabbit Hole

Recently I pulled off my bookshelf an annotated version of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass. I take great delight in the twisted logic and nonsensical poems.

I took a couple walks this past weekend - and didn't take a lot of pictures since I wanted some time to myself. Some "me time". I think its important to lose ourselves in wonder of our surroundings from time to time without a thought of the external world.

So the pictures are unexplained - but I wanted to share them with you today.


Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!

No wonder you're late. Why, this watch is exactly two days slow. (Note: and undoubtably two dollars short too.)


I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning?

I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!


Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?

The Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.

Alice: I don't much care where.

The Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.

Alice: ...so long as I get somewhere.

The Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.


We called him Tortoise because he taught us.

Subjects like Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with, and then the different branches of arithmetic -- Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.


If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't.

And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?


Alice: Oh, but that's nonsense. Flowers can't talk.

The Rose: But of course we can talk, my dear.

Orchid: If there's anyone around worth talking to.

Daisy: Or about.

[giggles]

Bud: I think she's pretty.

The Rose: Quiet, Bud.


Alice: And how many hours a day did you do lessons?

The Mock Turtle: Ten hours the first day, nine the next, and so on.

Alice: What a curious plan!

The Gryphon: That's the reason they're called lessons, because they lessen from day to day.


`The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright --
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done --
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head --
There were no birds to fly.


Daisy: What kind of a garden do you come from?

Alice: Oh, I don't come from any garden.

Daisy: Do you suppose she's a wildflower?


'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

I think this cloud looks like a frumious Bandersnatch. What do you think it looks like?

Weekend Wordles

It's that time of week again!

It's time for Shan's Weekend Wordles.

Here's what you do:

1) Go to Wordle.net to create your Wordle.

2) Post it on your blog with a link to Shan's Week~End Wordles or Last Shreds Of Sanity.

3) Once that's done, go back to Last Shreds Of Sanity and sign the Mr Linky that she'll have up - this will help direct those who play along to your blog.

From From Evansburg to Teotihuacan (and back)


Next time I'll have the compass.

Houston, Tranquility Base here.

On May 25, 1961, President John F. Kennedy announced his support for the Apollo program as part of a special address to a joint session of Congress:

"First, I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to the Earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important in the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish."

He later reiterated that support with his unforgettable New England accent:

"We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard..."

John F. Kennedy was destined to never see the what he words brought about - but I did. That goal was met on July 20, 1969 by the landing of astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, with Michael Collins orbiting above during the Apollo 11 mission.

I remember being at the house down at the shore - it was very late at night - and way past my bedtime - but my mother knew I was an Astronaut at heart - and she also knew history was in the making - so I was allowed to watch history unfold.


Aldrin: Altitude-velocity light. 3 1/2 down, 220 feet, 13 forward … forward. Coming down nicely. 200 feet, 4 1/2 down. 5 1/2 down. 5 1/2 down, 9 forward. That's good. 120 feet. 100 feet, 3 1/2 down, 9 forward. Five percent. Okay. 75 feet. There's looking good. Down a half, 6 forward.

Mission control: 60 seconds [of fuel remaining].

Aldrin: Lights on ... Down 2 1/2. Forward. Forward. Good. 40 feet, down 2 1/2. Kicking up some dust. 30 feet, 2 1/2 down. Faint shadow. 4 forward. 4 forward. Drifting to the right a little. Okay. Down a half.

Mission Control: 30 seconds [of fuel remaining].

Armstrong: Forward drift?

Aldrin: Yes. Okay. Contact light. OK, engine stop.

Armstrong: Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.


Mission Control: Roger, Tranquility. We copy you on the ground. You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We're breathing again. Thanks a lot.


I can still hear that "drifting to the right a little," along with the beep-peep of the telemetry announcer to this day.


"That's one small step for [static] man, one giant leap for mankind."

I was riveted to the TV with billions of other people. We had done it! We had gone to the Moon!


"Here men from the planet earth first set foot upon the moon, July, 1969, A.D. We came in peace far all mankind."

- Neil Armstrong


Where has the promise of that day gone?