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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 23, 2005
Fun, As Usual! Boy, I hate early meetings. Anyway, at least the weather's nice and sunny, and the kids didn't have any cavities yesterday, and we actually had enough time once we got home to play outside! Jonathan got one of the flimsy foam airplanes from the prize box at Dr. Nancy's, so he and Catherine, and to a lesser degree, Rebecca, took turn running screaming around the yard flinging the thing. The version he got was a fascimile of one of my favorite airplanes of all times, the Grumman F6F-3. Quoth Boy, "It's got a name, but I can't say it, because the first part of it's a CUSS WORD!" "Hellcat?" "YES, SIR!" "Well, when it's an airplane, it's not a cuss word." "Oh." And then he went screaming around the yard some more. We also took some time to look at the cherry blossoms and pear blossoms--it's springtime, you know. I looked at the tangle of wisteria on the arbor, and the tangle of Mexican heather in the planter, and the not-currently-plugged-in fountain, and the creeping green of non-grass lawn material. Time to get busy. Or busier. And right now, I have some bureacrating to do, so I'll get that done and be back shortly.
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