eve of hallows

an encounter with Aslan

Anyway, she couldn't have moved if she tried, and she could not take her eyes off it. How long this lasted she could not be sure; it seemed like hours. And the thirst became so bad she almost felt she would not mind being eaten by the lion if only she could be sure of getting a mouthful of water first.

"If you are thirsty, you may drink."

They were the first words she had heard since Scrubb had spoken to her on the edge of the cliff. For a second she stared here and there wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, "If you are thirsty, come and drink," and of course she remembered what Scrubb had said about animals talking in that other world, and realized it was the lion speaking. Anyway she had not seen its lips move this time and the voice was not like a man's. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.

"Are you not thirsty?" said the Lion.

"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.

"Then drink," said the Lion.

"May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do? said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she might have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.

The delicious rippling effect of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.

"Will you promise no to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.

"I make no promise," said the Lion.

"Do you eat girls?" she said.

"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.

"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.

"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.

- the Silver Chair, CS Lewis

the film club

Inspired by the book The Film Club by David Gilmour we have decided to re-instate family movie night.

We will watch all sorts of films - the first was to get me to watch Transformers. Mr. W and Luke have seen it many times already. There were some funny lines. What amazed me was their enthusiasm for the robots.

Then we sent our child to bed and watched the first two episodes of the last season of the Sopranos. Tonight we will watch two more.

flue shot?

The flue shot is available and encouraged.
My employer will pay. I can spend up to $18.
So much paper work.

I am somewhat ambivalent about the whole idea. I am not in any major risk groups and the vaccine is at a premium so should I partake? Is it really necessary? I didn't get a flue shot last year and did not suffer greatly.

thinking about doing this

NaBloPoMo

the dark of the morning

It is after 7am and it is still dark.
I miss the light.
I sleep more as the daylight wanes.

changes

My shift has switched to Tuesday to Saturday.
There are advantages to having Mondays off - but there are no good things about working Saturdays when my family is home and I am not.
It is temporary - 3 months but it cuts into our snowboarding time. And the snow is on its way.


I have a clarinet to return since Luke is not playing the clarinet anymore.

I have accounting for church to do.

Laundry to finish - although most of it was done yesterday.

The rain is supposed to stop.

old friends

dennis lehane story on the screen again

the tipping point

Starbucks French Roast

We normally drink French Roast. We drink it French Press style when we are camping, we used to drink it as drip coffee, now we use it in our espresso machine but they raised the price and it is now $15.95 lb. I don't think we drink it all the time anymore. I have reached price point limit. So, the search is on for a good alternative. I have heard good things about Kicking Horse Organics.

Thrift shop find of the year.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

vitamins

I have increased the vitamin C consumption.

Going through some darkness - I know that light will grace the other side.

weekend

We had the cranberry festival in the rain. We celebrated Mr. W's birthday. He is 42. Today after liturgy we are getting together for with friends and shall eat the roast beast. We shall drink wine and we shall converse.

We are thankful.

wednesday is delurking day

The midweek report is thus:
Mr. W is going on the grad cruise after work so he will be gone all day.
Ballet class tonight.
Tonight would be a good time to bake the birthday cake - sour creme poppyseed.
Big Math test on Friday - review essential concepts.
Woke up to two emails from two friends. Lovely.
The rain has stopped.
A paragraph was written.

the rain is upon us

Rain


I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

Shel Silverstein

It is very grey today. It is normal west coast weather. Despite knowing that it is what happens every autumn it is slightly depressing. It is dark. We are lighting candles in the evening. Candlelight is good.

We are making plans for the weekend. It is Mr. W's birthday - it is Thanksgiving and we are having friends for dinner on Sunday. Monday is a day to relax. So, much to anticpate.

crochet exasperation

I bought some wool.
I thought I could teach myself how to crochet.
The wool is too fancy.
Frustration reigned.

non fiction

A Pulitzer Prize — winning journalist takes us on a personal and historic journey from Mogadishu through Rwanda to Afghanistan and Iraq.

With the click of a shutter the world came to know Staff Sgt. William David Cleveland Jr. as a desecrated corpse. In the split-second that Paul Watson had to choose between pressing the shutter release or turning away, the world went quiet and Watson heard Cleveland whisper: “If you do this, I will own you forever.” And he has.

Paul Watson was born a rebel with one hand, who grew up thinking it took two to fire an assault rifle, or play jazz piano. So he became a journalist. At first, he loved war. He fed his lust for the bang-bang, by spending vacations with guerilla fighters in Angola, Eritrea, Sudan, and Somalia, and writing about conflicts on the frontlines of the Cold War. Soon he graduated to assignments covering some of the world’s most important conflicts, including South Africa, Rwanda, Afghanistan, and Iraq.

Watson reported on Osama bin Laden’s first battlefield victory in Somalia. Unwittingly, Watson’s Pulitzer Prize—winning photo of Staff Sgt. David Cleveland — whose Black Hawk was shot down over the streets of Mogadishu — helped hand bin Laden one of his earliest propaganda coups, one that proved barbarity is a powerful weapon in a modern media war. Public outrage over the pictures of Cleveland’s corpse forced President Clinton to order the world’s most powerful military into retreat. With each new beheading announced on the news, Watson wonders whether he helped teach the terrorists one of their most valuable lessons.
Much more than a journalist’s memoir, Where War Lives connects the dots of the historic continuum from Mogadishu through Rwanda to Afghanistan and Iraq.