Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, January 30, 2004

Friday Afternoon

And it's just about time to get out of here for the usual weekend jam-packed full of fun and high explosives. And the Super Bowl, not that I really care. Despite liking football pretty well, and yammering about it like an idiot during the college season, watching pro ball is sorta low on my list of things to do. And anyway, after seeing Franco Harris' Immaculate Reception--watched on a fuzzy-pictured television set, sitting around with my dad and my uncle and a few cousins in my uncle's country store one cold December night in 1972--it's all been sorta downhill anyway.

Oh well, at least there's the commercials.

Other things on tap for the weekend include the usual pounding of clothes on rocks, taking Middle Girl to soccer practice, another meal at the church building tomorrow evening, remembering pi to the 247th place, and trying to get rid of this cold.

The one thing I have steadfastly refused to mention all week--I mean, who DOESN'T have a cold?! This one came on real sneaky like, disguised as a hoarseness I attributed to driving around with the window of the van down doing my Screamin' Dean impression. By yesterday evening, it had made itself known right well, as it filled my upper head parts with a particularly tenacious snotcrete material. This, along with a general malaise and swirly-headedness, has made both sleeping and staying awake a rather carksome process. Of course, it's not like having a collapsed lung, so I figure I can tough it out.

Anywho, all of you have a wonderful weekend and we'll crank this silly mess back up bright and early Monday.

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