Ah, yes. This must have been what my spiritual director was talking about when he wanted to know what I was doing this summer. Somehow, that fact that I have less work means that I am more lazy ... and things like posting every Wednesday, which always seemed to happen during the mad school year, are not happening now that they are actually feasible. Which is silly, since I actually enjoy blogging ...
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Continuing Our Sylvan Theme
... from a couple of weeks ago. Also our theme of children lost at the midpoint of their stories. Also ... well, you get the picture.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
More of the Muse
I know; I know. There was music yesterday, and it's about time I posted something with words ... but I have three papers to finish, and Google kindly just reminded me that it's Ella Fitzgerald's birthday. Pleasure without the guilt of procrastination ... how could I say no?
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Till Easter
As you can probably tell, things are heating up in school (not to mention Lent). Now the weather, that's another matter ... Anyroad, this will be the post to hold you until the Saturday after Easter.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Quastoff
I had almost forgotten about this guy; he came up some time ago in connection with Andrea Bocelli, for fairly obvious reasons.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Coincidence
There’s a nice little meme that’s been playing
Facebook, something along the lines of “Check out the weather, watch the
sequestration go, notice how the pope resigned—YIKES! Who’s been playing with the TARDIS?” (No pun on “Who” intended, I’m sure.) The meme plays off the natural human tendency
to go into panic mode when events of a certain rare kind coincide. At times like these we’re wired to suspect—or
at a minimum, in this ironic age, to jest about—conspiracies as if they were
real.
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