Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I’ll be mine,
And we’ll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wander’d monie a weary fit,
Sin auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o thine,
And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne
And from the quote box:
One ship drives east and the other drives west by the self same winds that blow. It’s the set of the sails and not the gales that determines the way they go. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox
and finally, one of my favorite and more current JT songs:
Let it go. Let it be. Do good during your time here.
Well, an alligator, smoking a pipe, reclining in an adirondack chair
A great time was had by all. Thanks everyone for the wonderful prezzies! The apple tatin I made today was declared our traditional christmas dessert – I went with a back up plan not having made one before but it was pretty easy, and so so so very yummy!
The radio this morning said
“we’re going to learn, now, about
the number of troops needed
to fight in Afghanistan”
My hand reached over and turned it off.
I knew I would.
I thought:
do I really need this info?
what info?
who decided?
and then what?
twenty-five hundred?
twenty-five thousand?
two hundred and fifty thousand?
Someone wants me to know
that they know an answer,
some truth they’ve calculated,
justified, tried and tested.
My hand moves.
The drive becomes one
of quiet and landscape
and thoughts of what is truth,
whose truth
and what to do with
stuff like that.
Does it seem like I’m reading more these days? That might be. It also seems that any creative bit of me is coming out as words too but more on that another day.
I like to start reading the NYTimes Magazine before the weekend – prolongs the pleasure and frees up some weekend time too. This weekend’s has a piece in Lives by Krista McGruder about her experience living in an illegal sublet and waking up to an intruder. All ends well but I love this passage:
What does any woman want? Before you address the specifics, the generalities must be considered. Generally, what a woman wants includes: a lover with whom to draw a warm bath; a closet stuffed with pretty dresses; a scale that subtracts seven pounds; a bank account that speaks to her usefulness; a dog to comfort her; and a burly cowboy who drives the bad guys the hell out of Dodge.
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honour or observation. – Sir Walter Scott
