HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESSICA!!!

Happy Arbor Day

Trees are our friends. This Arbor Day, show that you care:

• Take an ent to lunch.


• Plant a tree.


• hug a tree.


• Save a tree; use e-mail

This message has been brought to you by the National Confederation of Ent Moots.

Visit The Arbor Day Foundation for more suggestions on how to observe this day.

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Happy Earth Day, Mom!

The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

Another Day, Another Kitten

Kittens are good for you. Remember to check The Daily Kitten regularly. You'll be glad you did.

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Spring, Spring, Spring

Two Eagle Chicks

Due to technical problems, there is no live eaglecam this season. You can, however, view pics in the 2008 Gallary.

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Google Mapping

Amazing to think that I will be leaving for a month long project in Virginia Beach in just under a week. As some of you know, my project in Columbus lasted longer than expected, so I haven't had much time to start planning for such an extended period of time away from home. But pictured in this post is the one thing I have done--I've started to find some of my points of interest on Google Maps.

And now off to bed, as I still need to go in to work tomorrow morning.


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HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY SPRING! HAPPY PASSOVER!

http://www.foodnetwork.com/holidays-and-parties/show-stopping-easter-desserts/pictures/index.html
A YUMMY BLESSING ON EVERY ONE OF YA!   ♥
I am actually making this cake for the family for Easter Day!!
It's all cooked and ready to be assembled.
I even found the exact same cookie cutter to make the bunnies with! (Wilton)





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Spring

It hasn't felt much like spring lately, especially with actual snow falling from the sky. The good news is that, at least around these parts, it is supposed to get warmer in the next couple days.

Anyway, I thought this was interesting...apparently on Thursday, the sun will wear a cloud as a hat.

That's gonna be freaking awesome!


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Another open thread

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Oh no! Whatever you do, don't blink! (Doctor Who reference.)

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Open Thread

New thread, with a helpful reminder that, if you must slip and fall down, you should try to slip and fall down carefully.

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Happy Monday, everyone!

I'm on my lunch break, and decided to post a new thread. From my laptop, in my car. Because I can.

And since I had to arrive over 20 minutes early for work just to get a decent spot, you can bet I'm not willing to lose this spot by driving off site for lunch.

My current project is really really boring. By mid-morning I was feeling almost comatose. So if you post fun links or stories for my after work amusement, I will love you for it!

Gotta run...




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End of the week open thread

see more pwn and owned pictures

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Open Thread

I started a new project today. Work starts at 8 a.m.

So.
Freaking.
Tired.

Anyway, I think it's been a while since I posted one of these...


see more dog and puppy pictures

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What I'm reading

Currently poking through a book called "Stumpers" and just read about Ray Tomlinson, known as "the father of e-mail". I did a web search for his name, and found this article.

Unlike Alexander Graham Bell's famous first call to his assistant, Watson, the content of the first email message -- from Tomlinson on one computer to himself on another -- is forgotten. Tomlinson didn't make a big deal of his breakthrough. "When he showed it to me," Burchfiel says, "he said, 'Don't tell anyone! This isn't what we're supposed to be working on.'"

And computer use has been like that ever since. ;)


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6 Years Later and Why I am Still a Peace Activist

She joined our peace group carrying a homemade sign. It wasn’t just a “Peace Now” sign or even similar to the six-foot “Pray for Peace, Act for Peace” banner that I brought. It was a sign made out of pain. It was covered with red paint, similar to blood, spattered on an attached doll. It was eerily similar to those cringe causing signs held at anti-abortion rallies. She wore a large hooded sweatshirt and an invisible wall of protection.

Over six years ago the tension was building, as it was evident that the neo-cons would start the war for which they hungered. I wasn’t an organizer then but I had a strong inner drive to seek out peace rallies.

The day after the Iraq war started the local Peace and Justice group held a riverside candlelight vigil. Year 2, I sought out a rally on the street while vacationing in Florida. Year 4 I traveled to Washington DC and shared the evening in the National Cathedral and marched to the White House with fellow Christians. In 08 the election motivated over 100 ralliers to 2 demonstrations in our city.

Everyone has a story, especially activists. People wonder where I get my energy to continue to plan rallies, talk on the radio and lead the local progressive group. I have my story. My drive was born from grief and fueled by the desire that others would not have to share my story. My 18 year-old son died in a car wreck 11 years ago. It was an accident but sending soldiers to a war is not an accident. I could not bear the thought of some mother, somewhere hearing that knock on the door that would forever change her and her family.

Year six started out quieter; maybe because Obama was president, maybe because there was a promise that this war would end and maybe because we were just all tired. This year we sang and prayed, sang and prayed for peace and healing. We were 13 strong, a veteran, a minister, a musician, a mother and child, four seniors, and three pacifist- 12 plus the woman with the sign. The minister led us in prayer, the musician led us in song, and the seniors held the banner. Each held a flower with a name of a fallen soldier from our district. We quietly read the names and placed it in the vase. 4924
Is not just a number, 10 lives were lost from our neighborhoods.

Then she pulled back her hood uncovering her long red hair that matched the picture of a child and the grown soldier on her poster. My mother’s heart ached and the group understood why we keep gathering year after year.


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More Animal Tails. . .

A friend of mine's cat had this cute litter of kitties, and I got the privilege of naming them (he'd run out of names after the first litter, the year prior). One of the kittens, a girl, was white, with very large perfectly round black polka dots. So of course she got a name I'd wished to bestow on a cat since Dick and Jane in first grade, lol! Spot. . . (This *isn't* her, but could be her double)

One of her siblings, a boy, I named Nixon due to his penchant for screaming bloody murder if he didn't get his way, and for climbing on the other kittens' heads and bodies in his attempts to escape their box. . . He was yaller. . . .

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BLINKY SHOES

These are the light-up shoes that Susan has sent to Ally. ♥
(This was the package that got stuck in my mailbox! LOL!)


As you can see, they will match perfectly with Ally's stylin' coolness.  ♥

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Critters

The other day when I was going to teach my class, I saw this goose in the middle of the parking lot. That struck me as odd, so, of course, I took out my phone and took a picture of it. And another picture, because I'm never positive that a picture has turned out until I look at it on my computer. So I have to take extras, as a sort of insurance. And if I try to take a picture with a decent resolution, it takes forever to save, so after I take the original picture, I get to spend a fair amount of time staring at a rotating hourglass icon before I can snap the emergency back-up picture. So it's always a very real possibility that the scene will have changed by that point.


By the time I was taking picture number two of the goose, I was starting to wonder if the little guy was okay. If he was okay, wouldn't he have moved by now? Just then, he lifted his head and let out a loud "HONK!"


I'm guessing that was a "Yes".

Another critter story. Remember I was telling you about the rat boys and their different learning curves? I continue to spend time interacting with them when I can, so that they are comfortable being handled by me. This afternoon, I took a couple of whole wheat pretzels, broke them into pieces, and brought them up to Daughter's room.

By now they know that I usually come bearing gifts, so as soon as I open the door to the room, I've got their attention. By the time I open the door to their cage, Dango is right there waiting. Today I decided that, rather than handing each of them a treat, I wanted them to walk over to my hand to get their snacks. Dango came right up to me, gently accepted the pretzel bit I offered him, and then hurried back into the cage to eat it.

While Dango was happily polishing off his snack, Vlad showed up at the door of the cage. He looked at the treat in my hand, paused a bit, and then climbed the outside wall of the cage in search of food on the roof. Because, after learning from watching Dango, he knew that's where the food was. And I thought, how weird! The food had been inches away from his nose--even if I'm overestimating his visual abilities and he didn't actually see me holding the pretzel bit, surely he must have smelled it. Yet he climbed up away from it, and searched all over the roof for food that wasn't there. Then it occurred to me, "Hey, he's making the 'A-not-B error'!" See, not only do I teach psychology, but I can be downright geeky about this stuff. ;)

And speaking of geeky, there's a bag of dry cat kibble (which I bought from a local health food store) sitting on our kitchen table. Its name, oddly (for a cat food), is "Spot's Stew". So for several days now, I've had Commander Data's "Ode to Spot" stuck in my head.

Felis Cattus, is your taxonomic nomenclature,
an endothermic quadruped carnivorous by nature?
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.

I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
a singular development of cat communications
that obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
for a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.

A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
you would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aide in locomotion,
it often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

O Spot, the complex levels of behaviour you display
connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

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Just to make your day...

A friend of mine posted this photo on Facebook.
Look at those eyes!  

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