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psalm_onethirtyoneTo-day I overdosed on aspirin (does anyone remember the oral anesthesia event?).
Other things I did, randomly chosen:
* Worked on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
erinpuff's birthday present. It is Coming Along, albeit slowly.
* Planted potatoes. Yay for all the vegetable gardens. The strawberries are also coming up, the corn is to be planted, the sweet peas are doing well, as are the tomatoes, and we're flooded with asparagus. The winter lettuce is gone, and the summer lettuce will set in. I assume, having not seen, that the blueberries are fine, the broccoli and cauliflower sprightly glowing along, the fruit trees still alive, and it only a matter of time for the black- and rasp-berries. Father is looking for people foist all the vegetables off on. He tried the piano teacher, Waen's art teacher, and half a dozen people from his old law firm.
* Wrote a vers libre ballad about the Irish battle of Glen Mama. Because am dork, and because it was actually supposed to be a report for school.
* Helped a woman at the library find a cottage to rent in Potter County, PA.
* Generally mucked about
Oh, and I now have two nice problems I can't talk about on LJ. Go me.
"Life is like a Mary Sue. It doesn't make any sense."
You may all quote me on that.
Other things I did, randomly chosen:
* Worked on
erinpuff's birthday present. It is Coming Along, albeit slowly.* Planted potatoes. Yay for all the vegetable gardens. The strawberries are also coming up, the corn is to be planted, the sweet peas are doing well, as are the tomatoes, and we're flooded with asparagus. The winter lettuce is gone, and the summer lettuce will set in. I assume, having not seen, that the blueberries are fine, the broccoli and cauliflower sprightly glowing along, the fruit trees still alive, and it only a matter of time for the black- and rasp-berries. Father is looking for people foist all the vegetables off on. He tried the piano teacher, Waen's art teacher, and half a dozen people from his old law firm.
* Wrote a vers libre ballad about the Irish battle of Glen Mama. Because am dork, and because it was actually supposed to be a report for school.
* Helped a woman at the library find a cottage to rent in Potter County, PA.
* Generally mucked about
Oh, and I now have two nice problems I can't talk about on LJ. Go me.
"Life is like a Mary Sue. It doesn't make any sense."
You may all quote me on that.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-30 07:01 pm (UTC)Didn't that come about from a conversation with me?
(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-30 07:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-30 08:08 pm (UTC)And yet another brilliant quote by the Soujin is made. ^_^
Ack. I only have one problem I can't talk about on LJ, which is my sanctuary. LJ, not my problem, I mean. Hope things work out for you. ::hugs::
(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-30 08:13 pm (UTC)Mine too, usually. These two things are the first two things I've ever had that I couldn't talk about and wanted to talk about. *hugsback* Thanks.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-05-01 12:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-05-01 08:20 pm (UTC)In Glen Máma
In Glen Máma, the battle came
Like soft storm clouds aching thunder, streaming lightening
Like red dragons whispering curses
Like red serpents coiling tighter
In Glen Máma, the battle came
In Glen Máma, Brian Boru fought
Older and tireder than long ago when he took up his brother's standard
But dangerous, for Brian was a king
But dangerous, for Brian had been a king
But dangerous, for Brian would be a king
With silver-splashed hair
and
Strong hands
In Glen Máma, Brian Boru fought
A battle,
Bitter
Cruel
Determined
Eternal
Furious
Great, and
Heavy, heroic, terrible and
Immense,
Jarring and the
Key to a kindled flame
In Glen Máma, the men died
In thousands and hundreds for victory they died, nobly they died
Scattered on the ground
Splashed red and smashed red
Till Brian Boru's silver streaks turned crimson
By the end of the day, they died
A hundred, a thousand, four thousands
In Glen Máma, the men died
In Glen Máma, Brian Boru triumphed
Burning Dublin and taking its riches for prizes, all the many
With hostages, with iron necklaces
With silver and gold and wine
Brian and his men were victors
Defeating Sitruic and his uncle, Máel Mórda
In Glen Máma, Brian Boru triumphed
Like the gods' blessings
Myriad, even the
Nameless
On that day
Procured high kingship, the
Questions not quite answered but
Regardless
Songs were sung, and
The many ballads written
Unforgettable, they made it,
Venerable
Without the weakness or the windstorms, so the
Young could be awed, and the
Zig-zag blood spots on the grass forgotten forever
In Glen Máma, silence fell
For now only the silent dead were left behind in it
For now the wind cried in the grass
Without a sound
For now Brian Boru was gone, gone
To be High King of Ireland
For now the battle was all done
And in Glen Máma, the silence fell
While the legends changed in the accounts,
And the accounts changed
In the legends
While most people forgot
While What Actually Happened
Made changes
Glen Máma remembered
In the rain
And the cold
And the change
Glen Máma remembered
In the silence
Long live Brian Boru,
The High King
Of Ireland