This is perhaps a needless post, but I wouldn't have updated today without it, so look! More internetness to read.
I am going away!...for the weekend. Meaning the time of the annual Presbyterian Women Church Retreat in Wisconsin is here, which is where I put my phone in airplane mode for two days and go stare at a lake and do hippie activities with about 40 middle-aged women. It is delightful. I am off today and back Sunday afternoon, and taking with me Rules of Civility and the Kindle app on my phone (which I hope only to use if worship/sharing time gets too touchy-feely and I wish to distance myself).
I am going away!...for the weekend. Meaning the time of the annual Presbyterian Women Church Retreat in Wisconsin is here, which is where I put my phone in airplane mode for two days and go stare at a lake and do hippie activities with about 40 middle-aged women. It is delightful. I am off today and back Sunday afternoon, and taking with me Rules of Civility and the Kindle app on my phone (which I hope only to use if worship/sharing time gets too touchy-feely and I wish to distance myself).
Speaking of apps, after years of waiting, I haveth obtainethed an iPhone and would like app suggestions, because there are TOO MANY to wade through. I'm in thrall to a time-wasting game called TinyZoo (I have giant ground sloths in my zoo!), and I just got StarWalk, because I plan on spending time this weekend staring at the sky and Contemplating the Smallness of Man and the Vastness of All Else, but otherwise? Not much.
To make up for my poetry-hating of yesterday, I will state that I do love some poetry. Some. And specifically, that of Alexander Pope. Speaking of which, back in the college day, my Early 18th C English Lit prof sent the class The Rape of the Lock in pdf format, I saved it to my desktop, and only when my friend stared at my screen in horror did I realize the file name was Pope_Rape (oh good Lord, who knows what that's going to bring to my blog).
The poem was a joke as, similar to now, in the 18th c. being hilarious was way preferable to being sincere. There had been a scandal, because Arabella Fermor's suitor cut off a lock of her hair WITHOUT HER PERMISSION. So Pope wrote a mock-heroic poem and it's great.
Have a FANTASTIC next couple of days, all. I'm out of here in a few hours.
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