Work is dragging me down, sapping my enthusiasm for writing more here. The big user-interface panel I thought I'd delivered and was done with has come back - now they want all these changes, some of which will require dabbling with Motif widgets (no simple task for me).
My current reading distraction is a Journal site called Bliss Point. The author, Derak, lives near Paducah, a small Kentucky town I walked through in 1991. This was a port-stop for a river cruise on the steamboat Delta Queen, sailing between Nashville and St. Louis. I got a brochure there - its two civic slogans are "Paducah Pizzaz" and "Ah! Paducah". Read Derak's Journal for the ground-zero descriptions of local life. I can't tell you much, given just a few hour's shore leave on a sunny afternoon - some boarded-up shops downtown, a museum of banalities/oddities in a historic house <1>, and the Museum of American Quilting (which I'd like to revisit sometime). Final Paducah Factoid: it's T's mother's home town.
Speaking of T, an email advises that he's passed his written test. This means he'll soon be a licensed pilot.
Let's end with something light tonight:
It was going to be one of Rabbit's busy days. As soon as he woke up he felt important, as if everything depended upon him. It was just the day for Organizing Something, or for Writing a Notice Signed Rabbit, or for Seeing What Everybody Else Thought About It. It was a perfect morning for hurrying round to Pooh, and saying, "Very well, then, I'll tell Piglet," and then going to Piglet and saying, "Pooh thinks - but perhaps I'd better see Owl first." It was a Captainish sort of day, when everybody said "Yes, Rabbit" and "No, Rabbit," and waited until he had told them. <2>In my earliest elementary school classes there was a girl named Mary Ellen - she'd be over with the other girls playing outside during recess and I'd hear her say "I wanna be Piglet!"
For some reason this is a very strong memory. She was one of those kids who disappeared between grades one summer, so I don't have any idea what she was like older.
|<<Previous | Next>>|
|Email to email@example.com||Home|
<1>Among a lot of unremarkable stuff,
<2>From The House At Pooh Corner by AA Milne ©1928 Back