Wednesdayness

1) I came home an hour early last night because the throwing-up thing refused to wait. (Oh, sure, these things can't kick in at the beginning of my shift....) Had a cruddy-feeling night, leavened somewhat by Stewart's ginger ale, a Margaret Cho DVD, and rafaela's tender ministrations. Still fighting the misery now, but I think it'll pass before too long. I hope.

2) I adore my kids. Just sayin'.

3) Here's what I love about the LiveJournalverse: my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend's girlfriend is LJ-friended by my ex-wife's ex-boyfriend. This is a partial explanation why rafaela currently has three of Lauren's exes on her friend's list. And she's never even met Lauren...

4) Tomorrow, I get to chaperone a bunch of first-graders on a trip to Magic Forest in Queensbury. In other news, Advil sales increase by 17%.

yes I said yes

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:

-- Introibo ad altare Dei.

Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely:

-- Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!

Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding country and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.

Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.

-- Back to barracks! he said sternly.

He added in a preacher's tone:

-- For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.

He peered sideways up and gave a long low whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.

-- Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?



Happy Centennary Bloomsday, all. Once an English major, always an English major.... *sigh* (And before anyone says so, I know the "S" isn't big enough. I'm not perfect.)