By Emily Dickinson
The Soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend –
Or the most agonizing Spy –
An Enemy – could send –
Secure against its own –
No treason it can fear –
Itself – its Sovereign – of itself
The Soul should stand in Awe –
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It was not a very exciting Monday. I got some work done in the morning, finished a writing project, made lunch for Daniel and his broken arm, went out to the post office to mail a package overseas, stopped at CVS to pick up some necessities, and watched Weinergate unfolding, because we all need a bit of unintentional hilarity in our day -- I suspect he admitted the truth not because it was the right thing to do but because he wanted to brag that yes, that was his body.
Paul's work laptop decided to commit suicide -- he has a new one, but he needed to get all his files off it, so we went to Microcenter to get something to download the hard drive, and ate nice healthy Cici's Pizza while we were out. We were also going to get new sneakers for both boys -- Adam has decided to take up track -- but we were all tired by then and came home instead to the terrible news that Superpoke is going to stop releasing new items for our pets. On that sad note, have some more photos from the Washington Folk Festival:
Clay flowers for sale at the craft show...
...and items made from glass.
Some of the artisans were at work at the festival.
Jennifer Cutting of Ocean Orchestra and her squeezebox.
The Green Man and Ocean Orchestra celebrating the coming summer solstice.
The Washington Revels singing with Ocean Orchestra...
...and pumping their "ship" dry while singing a chantey.
The Dentzel Carousel at Glen Echo Park, a leftover from its days as an amusement park.
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