Thursday, April 4, 2013

It's okay.

I'm still here.
It's just that, well, it's that time of year, if you get my meaning. In case not, my meaning is that it's the end of the semester (which usually feels like the end of my life).
You see, there are just So many pages to write, with words like "thesis," "prospectus," "annotated," and "graduate" attached to them.

It's a hard life, but somebody has to live it, you know? How would the earth turn with one less scholar?
 So, while you have a week or something left in London and are barricaded in your flat eating digestives like Winston Churchill smoked cigars (or while I am), staring at a screen and literally howling like a hound dog puppy every few hours..... well, here's something to make you feel better about the past and future (the present is beyond me, frankly).

The Pleasures of Paris: A Sneak Preview
Jacob and me being tourists in the rain
 Feeling pretty awesome at The Gates of Hell
(Jacob got some "ideas" for our future children's bedroom door..)
 And enjoying the best French culture has to offer.

Did I mention that I have so much to be grateful for and that I love my studies and my career and everything?
It's just... well...
Well, maybe when all this is done and I scoop my scattered brains back together, I'll post about Paris and maybe even (dare I say it) my wedding?

Cheers, friends. It's all okay.


Jacob Rennaker said...

The only reason why I had to settle for planning the door on our children's room is because Anna won't let me put that on the front door of our house.

But now...maybe she'll let me if I only put it up at the end of each semester.

Anonymous said...

Perhaps, Jacob, there is room for negotiating if you concede and float with a few rubber ducks. Aunt K.

Miss Lucy with a Lisp said...

Digestives: addictive, dangerous to your health, I'm surprised they haven't put a warning label on them yet.



I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins

that's all, folks


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