By Karen Volkman
A light says why. From all the poor prying. Again we attain a more regal posture -- small bird accompanying slips between our whim. Where will we flicker, loose as two feathers from a wren's back? Gone, do not brood for all the hands that miss you. They hardly hold. Don't wait, one who thought a dark eye could save you, like night with its black paws curled and gone to sleep. There are only two names to remember, Loss and Pleasure, crossed in this field like no man's borrowed light. Call the far-sighted foxes to the launching. Call the small deer scattered in the back brush, swift as flit. Contingency has arms and hands and wasted faces. And a body, shrunk and scurvy, built to burn.
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I had to get routine fasting blood tests this morning -- early but not early enough, since I was fasting -- and the receptionist sent me upstairs to the wrong lab, since there are three in the building and each variety of my insurance (HMO, PPO, POS) has different forms and different requirements, so by the time I figured out where I needed to be and got the blood drawn, I was hungry, tired, cranky, and working on a headache that didn't quite go away all afternoon. I consoled myself with the Due South soundtracks (with the help of a friend who shall not be named for privacy's sake but who is very much appreciated) and leftover babaganoush from Lebanese Taverna.
Daniel is happy to be back in robotics, and Adam is applying to the Arts Academy at his high school, meaning he'll have to take more arts classes than are usually required for graduation (which is fine with him since he's taking both theater and photography) but will also give him access to some special programs and facilities. He was working on his essay while we were watching Monty Python tonight and the conversation degenerated into hilarity and I'm too tired now to remember all the things that were making me laugh. In that vein, here are some photos from the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire of sword swallower Thom Sellectomy swallowing a loooong balloon...
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