By Mary Chapin Carpenter
I can tell by the way you're walking
That you don't want company
I'll let you alone and I'll let you walk on
And in your own good time you'll be
Back where the sun can find you
Under the wise wishing tree
And with all of them made we'll lie under the shade
And call it a jubilee
And I can tell by the way you're talking
That the past isn't letting you go
But there's only so long you can take it along
Then the wrong's got to be on its own
And when you're ready to leave it behind you
You'll look back and all that you'll see
Is the wreckage and rust that you left in the dust
On your way to the jubilee
And I can tell by the way you're listening
That you're still expecting to hear
Your name being called like a summons to all
Who have failed to account for their doubts and their fears
They can't add up to much without you
And so if it were just up to me
I'd take hold of your hand, saying come hear the band
Play your song at the jubilee
And I can tell by the way you're searching
For something you can't even name
That you haven't been able to come to the table
Simply glad that you came
And when you feel like this try to imagine
That we're all like frail boats on the sea
Just scanning the night for that great guiding light
Announcing the jubilee
And I can tell by the way you're standing
With your eyes filling with tears
That it's habit alone keeps you turning for home
Even though your home is right here
Where the people who love you are gathered
Under the wise wishing tree
May we all be considered then straight on delivered
Down to the jubilee
Because the people who love you are waiting
And they'll wait just as long as need be
When we look back and say those were halcyon days
We're talking about jubilee
* * * *
Yay! The Bucs won! Not that I cared overmuch -- I don't hate these Raiders the way I hated the Raiders of yore, just as I can't work up any real animosity toward current-era Cowboys or Giants. We went to my very oldest friend's husband's annual Superbowl party, which he's been throwing since long before they met and married, so it's a combination of people he's known his entire life and more recent friends and neighbors and their kids. At any given moment there were only about 10 people watching the game, though there were probably more than 50 people in the house at the end of the first quarter. Almost everybody had left by halftime, though since my kids don't have school today -- some county teachers' meeting -- we stayed until sometime in the third quarter and apparently missed a good interception return on the drive home.
I've known Linda since first grade -- we met when we were the age my younger son is now. We barely had a chance to speak yesterday (in addition to having three kids and a party to host, she had just gotten back from Cancun after a very delayed flight) but I did get to talk to her father, whom I've known just as long. He was appalled by Shania Twain's outfit during the halftime show. I was amused that he was appalled, since I remember having similar conversations with him about Madonna when Linda and I were in high school. I also saw another friend from high school who also now has two children -- this is our annual get-together besides running into each other at the park and at the store.
The TrekWeb editor decided to demand that I produce my Jeff Combs interview by today, so I let my husband take our older son to a birthday party earlier yesterday and stayed home to edit and format. As is typical, I had a story idea literally buzzing around in my head the entire time I was working on that, and then I had a number of e-mails to answer and stories to feedback and calls to make before we left for the Superbowl party. I finally said the heck with it and wrote it down during the last few minutes of the game when I couldn't stand it anymore. Again I ask, how come I always get writer's block when I have time to write, but when I'm supposed to be doing two dozen other things, I'm compelled to write?
From the American Civil Liberties Union, the ACLU report on how Big Brother Is Watching...
Gacked from vertigo66, a must-read post on news headlines -- make sure you read the end...
From the Enneagram Institute, I am:
free enneagram test
Sevens are extroverted, optimistic, versatile, and spontaneous. Playful, high-spirited, and practical, they can also misapply their many talents, becoming over-extended, scattered, and undisciplined. They constantly seek new and exciting experiences, but can become distracted and exhausted by staying on the go. They typically have problems with impatience and impulsiveness. At their Best: they focus their talents on worthwhile goals, becoming appreciative, joyous, and satisfied.
Most of which is pretty damn true. Wow.
Icon in honor of cinzia, who will know why as soon as she sees it. I love you, fellow sap!