Stolen for the quote box

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but we are unable to say. – Anais Nin

These are both via Sandy’s blog and I appreciate the different areas she rummages and reads in. To me, that’s WHY and WHAT makes a blog worth returning to. First off, I get a clear idea of what interests her and what she’s thinking about and doing. She’s having a conversation with herself and her interests and her readers. We get to see her work too, but it’s a lot more than that.

So thanks Sandy and congrats on post #1800! Look forward to many more.

Remember. Growth is only possible as a product of history. Without memory, innovation is merely novelty. History gives growth a direction. But a memory is never perfect. Every memory is a degraded or composite image of a previous moment or event. That’s what makes us aware of its quality as a past and not a present. It means that every memory is new, a partial construct different from its source, and, as such, a potential for growth itself. – Bruce Mau

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Panoramic Family Life

As much as I like the panorama setting in the iPhone camera for big sweeping skies and landscapes, I have to say it’s just great at showing a bit of interior life. Things like, Sunday dinner at my brother’s house:

Sunday night dinner and the series

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My Superpower

You know that for most of us, we have limited options in the superpower category, so it’s important to choose carefully and deploy the right ones at the right time.

Today I finished closing up the windows and after dinner I clicked on the “Run Program” button on the thermostat. That’s going to take it into the relatively balmy category. Today for a short while it was warmer outside than inside.

It comes around every year but I think a few times this heat thing has waited until next month.

Wait, you’re asking, how is this a superpower?

Well, if you don’t think the cats think their lives have been saved for another winter. Like they were suffering, laying around on the heated mattress pad in their little fur coats… so sad…

Anyway I’m their heroine tonight and they better give me some space when I crawl into bed later… We’ve been cozy the last few nights.

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Be Prepared

The very desirable os installer drive. Just in case.

20131027-130151.jpg

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Dancer or Dance

VIII

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
William Butler Yeats, from Among School Children

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