Angus continues to improve. He hardly ever limps these days. We're waiting for the year mark for the final prognosis but there are times when we actually forget he was ever hurt.
Hot dogs for dinner today I think. Hey, I'm in a proletarian mood today.
Have a great Sunday. Kiss your special Guy or Gal and thank the Good Lord for all your blessings.
Today's Kipling is dedicated to Murphy's Law and Aaron over at The Shekel. Two guys who actually spend their own money and munificent free time strapping on devices most complex in order to risk their lives swimming around under thousands of feet of wet stuff that isn't known to be breathable to us humans. Diving may not be quite as frightening as jumping out of adequately functioning aircraft but it's a spine tingling close second place. Well, for this land lubbing leg anyway.
The Deep-Sea Cables
The wrecks dissolve above us;
Their dust drops down from afar Down to the dark, to the utter dark,
Where the blind white sea-snakes are. There is no sound, no echo of sound,
In the deserts of the deep, Or the great grey level plains of ooze
Where the shell-burred cables creep. Here in the womb of the world
Here on the tie-ribs of earth Words, and the words of men,
Flicker and flutter and beat Warning, sorrow and gain,
Salutation and mirth For a Power troubles the Still
That has neither voice nor feet. They have wakened the timeless Things;
They have killed their father Time; Joining hands in the gloom,
A league from the last of the sun. Hush! Men talk to-day
O'er the waste of the ultimate slime,
And a new Word runs between:
Whispering, "Let us be one!"