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.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
As I feared...
...today is going to be a blog washout. First, a two-hour meeting that resulted in a huge stack of paper to be sorted through, which is added to the circumstance that developed yesterday of being up up Crique D'Ordure between a rock and a hard place without a paddle as alligators chomp at my large furry butt and, with their constant thrashing, fling brown matter into my handy onboard rotating-blade air circulation device. In other words, I have a lot to do, and little time to get it done.
SO, check back in later on in the week and see if I get it done, or decide to slag off and just blog and not worry about it.
To tide you over until then, I will let you all know that Oldest had a band concert last evening, which was very enjoyable. They did a wonderful job, and played one of my favorites, the title music march from The Great Escape. Gotta love that Steve McQueen! I mean, you know, as an actor. Like that. Nothing else, so you just hush. Anyway, it's always an evocative toe-tapper, just like the whistling march from Bridge on the River Kwai.
Even more entertaining than that was the moment I looked around at Catherine during the previous band's performance. She tapped my arm and looked up at me, and I saw that she was flaring her nostrils in time to R.W. Smith's arrangement of "Furioso."
You know, that's not something you see every day.
Anywho, I got junk to do, so I'll see y'all later.
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