Aaargh! I keep working too much (that and wasting what time I do get to myself). At least the job is supposed to end this week. And it should, too. As a crew, we are down under 150 questionnaires to complete, which is an amount that we should be able to do yesterday and today (although that leaves me checking that 150 in two days as well as the work binders). Personally, I am hoping it all got done yesterday and that I am checking it all for the last time this afternoon. In the meantime, what with proofreading/checking and phone calls, I need to devise a quick and easy post for this last day before the weekend that wonʼt take much of my time late in the afternoon on Thursday.
So I guess itʼs a good time to revisit the past again, and that means a return of the journal entries from just after my acquisition of MacSpeech Dictate. (They amuse me anyway.) And itʼs pretty simple for me just to copy the text from NeoOffice and paste it into the WordPress text box (as I will do momentarily).
The last time I posted some of these entries, I was irresistibly reminded of one of my favorite sources of quotations, Oscar Wildeʼs tasty The Importance of Being Earnest. I first encountered his witty work as a high school junior when Vince had us put on the play in the fall (I had wanted to be Jack, unaccountably and stupidly, but the role went appropriately to a significantly better-looking classmate; perhaps I overestimated my own personal stiffness of performance, not realizing I made a better Algy, much to my enjoyment now). I also felt driven to direct it myself at Andrew, encountering academic difficulties that forced a noble young man to take on one of the leads in the last week of rehearsal; the show went pretty well, even with the almost insuperable barrier of three set changes each night. Generations of drama students also had to enjoy it in the springtime as our (not really accurate) example of a well-made play.
From Act Two, when Algernon is posing as wicked brother Ernest to get an opportunity of bunburying with Jackʼs ward Cecily (who like Jackʼs own beloved, Gwendoline, keeps a diary, peculiarly)…
CECILY. Oh no. [Puts her hand over her diary.] You see, it is simply a very young girl’s record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy.
Publication in this case must be merely electronic.
Monday, 22 February 2010
Good weekend. Diane and Steve came about eight on Friday. I had spent the entire day pretty much cleaning up the house. But the work felt good even though I was tired.
I got up early on Saturday — about 7:30 — to shovel couple inches of snow that had fallen Friday evening and through the night. It took me about an hour. They were all up when I came back in. I waited a bit for Steve to get out of the shower and cleaned myself. Janet and those two went down to the Old Lumber Yard before we all headed off to Galena.
We wandered the Main Street, stopping in half a dozen stores, including that place where they serve all the sauces for you to taste. We wandered on up to Fritz and Frites, where we ate lunch. I had spinach quiche with a salad. A few more shops until about 2:30, when we headed for home. I dozed over the first of three Conan comic collections from SFBC.
Cooked steaks for supper with baked potatoes, salad and cheese bread. Went to bed about ten.
Sunday Janet had me make waffles for breakfast. Diane and Steve left about eleven [MacSpeech foolishly insists on using digits, dammit!], at which time Janet and I took a walk, going all the way downtown via Summit Street. Then out to Wal-Mart for some supplies. Getting ready for the weekly chores through the afternoon.
Olympics. Angus burgers for supper. I did not feel well. Showered early and went to bed by nine. Snow started falling around seven, so I was up early today to shovel snow, but only about an inch of icy stuff had fallen, and I finished in just a half hour. Ate four waffles about noon. Right now just about one.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Subbed in Andrew yesterday afternoon in periods five, six, seven, eight. For Gloria Petesch, Home Ec (although they donʼt call it that any more). Wasn’t too bad; actually enjoyed most of the classes. She had me show movies, which worked out great. Only problems were eighth period. One girl insisted on eating chocolate, as if I wasn’t watching. Expletive deleted.
Now I want to watch Swiss Family Robinson, which was the selected film/lesson? for that last class.
On Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, wrote about 5000 words, unfortunately a good portion of them for the blog. New idea — turn my time-travel-onto-the-steppes story into a planetary adventure à la Edgar Rice Burroughs.
Right now it’s about 9:40 AM, and Janet’s getting her nails done and visiting the library before we go grocery shopping later on. Still enjoying the Olympics. The pointlessness of all of what I’m putting in here explains why there haven’t been entries for a few days.
Must get Aunt Alaire’s copy of “Details, Details” in the mail very soon: I think it’s now two weeks.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Here is what MacSpeech Dictate created while the microphone didn’t go to sleep (from music perhaps?): as a is a is no and I know I will go with you will is you will to know you will go and I will and you will and I knew him or him him him him him him him him him him will him know him as is a where are you going to be a worm and you and him and he is on is him and him and him and him and him and him
Nice, isn’t it?
—Can you see what made me think of these entries yesterday, even Wednesday? That potential planetary romance has been on my mind.
Swiss Family Robinson may well have been my very first movie experience as a child (it is definitely the first as I remember it), possibly at the same movie theater in downtown Rock Island where I later won a chemistry set.
And that wraps up February and begins March (as you could have told yourself by reading it, I realize). There is more, but youʼll only have to endure it if I get desperate for material again. (Which is exactly what I may be this weekend.)
“where are you going to be a worm” — thatʼs an interesting bit of found poetry… No?