Sep. 7th, 2007

Poem originally found via [personal profile] schemingreader, removed at the poet's request. I hope no one Googled him during the 3+ years I gave him free publicity here.

Am fried from Back to School night -- both the middle school and the high school had to hold it the same night, just like last year when it was a different middle school and an elementary school. So it was a hectic afternoon and evening. Daniel had to go with [livejournal.com profile] apaulled to the high school because the chorus was performing, but first my mother wanted to take him to have his Bar Mitzvah suit tailored since he's grown several inches since last fall, so she picked him up right after school while I had Adam and his best friend playing here. Then we traded and my mother took Adam for dinner while Daniel rushed to get ready to go sing.

It was very weird being in all of Adam's classrooms because his middle school used to be my junior high school, and it has really changed remarkably little. His science classroom, which was my science classroom more than 25 years ago, has the Periodic Table hanging precisely where it was when I sat there, and the first person I saw when I walked into his homeroom was Julie Greenbaum, who sat next to me in homeroom through my three years of junior high -- her name came just after mine alphabetically and now her son is in my son's English class. Didn't stop me from getting lost on the way to the music classroom, though -- when I was at the school, the four staircases were color-coded, and now they are all painted blue!

No other news really. Trek stuff was new New Voyages plans and the fact that if you buy a Toshiba HD-DVD player for your Star Trek HD-DVD discs when they come out this fall, you can get a free phaser-shaped remote control. Russell Crowe arrives in DC this week to film a thriller with Leonardo DiCaprio for Ridley Scott, and I am trying to decide if it counts as stalking if I should happen to learn from the legitimate press where he is staying and sit and read in the lobby for a few (dozen) hours. I am sad about Pavarotti -- the end of an era. I had two people I know get bad news about elderly relatives today, so I am perversely hoping for superstitious purposes that Pavarotti was the third.


A Midsummer Afternoon's Dream )
Mrs. Which's voice rang out. "Itt iss Eevill. Itt iss thee Ppowers of Ddarrkknesss!"

"But what's going to happen?" Meg's voice trembled. "Oh, please, Mrs. Which, tell us what's going to happen!"

"Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!"

Something in Mrs. Which's voice made all three of the children stand straighter, throwing back their shoulders with determination, looking at the glimmer that was Mrs. Which with pride and confidence.

"And we're not alone, you know, children," came Mrs. Whatsit, the comforter. "All through the universe it's being fought, all through the cosmos, and my, but it's a grand and exciting battle. I know it's hard for you to understand about size, how there's very little difference in the size of the tiniest microbe and the greatest galaxy. You think about that, and maybe it won't seem strange to you that some of our very best fighters have come right from your own planet, and it's a little planet, dears, out on the edge of a little galaxy. You can be proud that it's done so well."

"Who have our fighters been?" Calvin asked.

"Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs. Whatsit said.

Mrs. Who's spectacles shown out at them triumphantly. "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not."

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