Cozy Rain

The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you'd just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency.
~Susan Allen Toth, England For All Seasons


Here's hoping you get some cozy rain soon.
Naps all around!
-M

Hey, bologna rocks.

Here's to all of the students who get by on the sheer force of creativity and imagination. 'Cause, hey, if you can't draw a straight line to it, it's best to distract them with circles. Cheers!















How I pass Theory of Knowledge
I watched them paint their bodies
And thrash with pagan, rhythmic dancing
They gave me a mother
Who carried me in her womb
And there she whispered her secrets to me
I let a brother die,
I loved the man they stoned,
I killed the woman he wanted,
I abandoned her weeping child
I fell from the violent warmth that she carried me in
And they tagged me
Swathed in cotton and sterility
They herded me into a box
And sliced lines into my chest
I was measured and divided
They swore that they would find me
"I am here! I am here," I shouted
And then, "I am clean"
I wept for my mother
I curled into a box
I danced, painted and pagan
I drew lines
I fell to their floor shouting!
I fell to their floor spinning!
"I am here! I am here," I shouted
And then, "What am I? What am I?"
I fell to their floor

10 points for anyone who can relate this to knowing!
Oh, good old bologna, you serve me so well...
-M