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Busy being busy
It's one of those office days where I just have to sit here and deal with things as they come, and in between plug away at the tasks I have assigned myself to do today. Not a bad day, actually, as long as I don't worry about being interrupted, or look ahead to the rest of what is looming on the horizon that needs accomplishing. I'm only looking at the short list today, and that will be enough.
I successfully manned the mysterious and frightening phone switchboard today at the office, during breaktime -- once I am past doing it over lunch break I will be home free for another 6 weeks. Wheeee! I'm not a big fan of phones, I prefer to do business face to face, or in writing. ;-)
As I walked to work this morning, I was surrounded by the pleasant, pulsing buzz of cicadas -- I do enjoy hearing them! In honor of that enjoyable moment, I am reposting the poem I shared a couple of weeks back about cicadas:
We know that you are royally blest,
Cicada, when among the tree-tops,
You sip some dew and sing your song;
For every single thing is yours
That you survey among the fields
And all the things the woods produce.
The farmers' constant company,
You damage nothing that is theirs;
Esteemed you are by every human
As the summer's sweet-voiced prophet.
The Muses love you, and Apollo too,
Who's gifted you with high pitched song.
Old age does nothing that can wear you,
Earth's sage and song-enamored son;
You suffer not, being flesh-and-blood-less--
A god-like creature, virtually.
-- from an ancient Greek poem
I successfully manned the mysterious and frightening phone switchboard today at the office, during breaktime -- once I am past doing it over lunch break I will be home free for another 6 weeks. Wheeee! I'm not a big fan of phones, I prefer to do business face to face, or in writing. ;-)
As I walked to work this morning, I was surrounded by the pleasant, pulsing buzz of cicadas -- I do enjoy hearing them! In honor of that enjoyable moment, I am reposting the poem I shared a couple of weeks back about cicadas:
We know that you are royally blest,
Cicada, when among the tree-tops,
You sip some dew and sing your song;
For every single thing is yours
That you survey among the fields
And all the things the woods produce.
The farmers' constant company,
You damage nothing that is theirs;
Esteemed you are by every human
As the summer's sweet-voiced prophet.
The Muses love you, and Apollo too,
Who's gifted you with high pitched song.
Old age does nothing that can wear you,
Earth's sage and song-enamored son;
You suffer not, being flesh-and-blood-less--
A god-like creature, virtually.
-- from an ancient Greek poem
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Sweet Lin surveys her list
She sighs softly, rests her chin on her fist
And begins to work her way through the deeds.
Methinks that a visit from Bean
And a wheel of cheese so keen
Is exactly what our darling Lin needs.
~ from a modern Kimby poem
(((hugs))))
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And a wheel of cheese so keen
Is exactly what our darling Lin needs.
No kidding!
I your modern Kimby poem -- that's my favorite kind. :-D
((((hugs back))))
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