It's Raining

It's raining, and it's gray, and it's cold, and it's really miserable out there, and I HATE this, and I could whine on and on and on. . . (wanna hear?). . .

I am trying to write a paper about Beowulf. It is pretty Beowulfian out there today, so the combination of murder and mayhem in the text and water water everywhere does nothing for my spirits. And no, Paul I still have not read Grendel. I doubt that it would improve my mood at the moment.

I followed the advice of the majority and signed up for bloglines. But as usual with these computer things, I don't understand a word of the instructions re: how to get my links to swim directly into my blog sidebar. This is the first couple of lines of Beowulf in the "original" --

Hweat we Gar-Dena in gear-dagum

peod-cyninga prym gefrunon. . .

The bloglines instructions are similar.

I am not alone in this. When I tried to link to one of the bloggers who suggested bloglines, I got her bloglines account, not her blog. Probably not such good news for her.

The news from New Orleans is also not good. I had a long conversation with one of my best friends today. Her son, a student at Cornell (and one of my great triumphs, that boy: I introduced him to birding when our families vacationed together in Yellowstone when our boys were about 12, and he is now well on his way to becoming a real life professional ornithologist, having accomplished more by his junior year of college than most grad students ever will) spent a week of his winter break volunteering there. His report of the conditions and the work: dismal, frightening, sometimes life-threatening. Today I see in The New York Times that the city is in no way ready for Mardi Gras, which is days away, from an emergency-preparedness standpoint. FEMA is right on top of things, as usual. Meanwhile, my Tulane daughter is out somewhere in the city today, volunteering on a public school reconstruction project.

The news from my college sons is nonexistent. They are in the "life is boring, nothing to tell you" stage. I am in the shut-up-hands-off stage.

Our kitty is trying not to eat. I read yesterday that if a cat goes more than a couple of days without eating, she will develop fatal liver damage, so I am spending a lot of time trying to entice her with various delectable dishes like -- well, never mind, they're all disgusting. She has had enough that I know her digestive system is functioning and she sniffs around like she's interested, so I'm wondering if her teeth are bothering her. I have to get her to the vet, but I need help: she won't go in a carrier, my husband is too sick to go anywhere, and my one really good friend who's not allergic to cats is out of town. There are just not that many people you can ask to ride in a car with a loose cat. Maybe Monday.

I am cleaning up the kitchen as I am writing this. I just found TWO things that I need for tomorrow. The contents of the counter include: money, catalogs, 37-cent stamps, copies of my daughter's passport and social security card, various receipts for UPS and USPS 2-day (read:5) packages to New Orleans, an agenda for a meeting tomorrow, my daughter's CD case, guidebooks to Spain and Scotland, a college recommendation for a former student, a pin that I removed from my coat collar last week (a Celtic goose -- very cool), and a book on Iona that I have to convince 15 other people to read and discuss. I know there are people whose live sand possessions are organized, but I am not one of those people. However, that will not stop me from getting to Scotland and France. Of course, I have to FIND the France guidebooks.

OK, I have run out of procrastinating possibilities. I have to go out in the cold and dark and rain and misery to pick up prints and buy groceries. If a dragon gets me, so be it.