My Son And I Were A Pretty Funny-looking Pair At School Drop-off This Morning.

My son and I were a pretty funny-looking pair at school drop-off this morning.

But, like, what if I really really want to?

Not mine, just saw it and thought it was nice

Kinda made me happy but also sad I dunno

Ode to my little love

I love to sing and I’ve been singing songs to my son at bedtime ever since he was born. Sadly though, I can see the day coming soon when he is going to be too old to want me to sing to him anymore 😭 

I can already feel some of my favorite songs fading from memory, as I stumble over lines because I don’t recite them as often as I once did. Before I forget any more, I’d like to put these words down somewhere so that I can find them easily when I want to refresh my memory.

This song is one of my favorites. It’s an adaptation of John Dryden’s translation of a poem by the Roman lyric poet Horace (finally, my bachelor’s degree in classical studies has come in handy! lol). I’ve taken some liberties with the words to make it flow better as a song, in my opinion, and because the language in Dryden’s version is dated and a bit sexist and I didn’t really like that. 

So, for better or worse, here is my version of the Ninth Ode of the First Book of Horace, adapted from the English translation by John Dryden:

Behold yon mountain’s hoary height

Made higher with new mounds of snow

Again behold the winter’s weight

Oppress the laboring woods below

And streams like ice fetters bound

Benumbed and cramped to solid ground

With well-heaped logs dissolve the cold

And feed the genial hearth with firs

Produce the wine that makes us bold

Of sprightly wit and love inspires

For hereafter shall betide

Love, tis worth her care provide

Let she alone, with what she made

To toss and turn the world below

At her command the storms invade

The winds by her commission blow

Till with a nod she bids them cease

And calm returns, and all is peace

Tomorrow and her works defy

Lay hold upon this present hour

And snatch the pleasures passing by

To put them out of fortune’s power

Nor love nor love’s delights disdain

Whatever thou get today is gain

Secure those early morning joys

That youth un-soured with sorrow bears

Ere withering time thy taste destroys

With sickness and unwieldy years

For active sports and pleasant rest

This is the time to be possessed

The best is but this season’s test

The pointed hour of promised bliss

A pleasant whisper in the dark

A half unwanted stolen kiss

The laugh that guides thee to the mark

When the kind nymph would coyness feign

And hides but to be found again

These are the joys the gods for youth ordain

Nailed it lol

Every 1 or 2 years, Anachron sends a short-wave transmission, two seconds start-to-end.

With only two words the same two every time. And they rhyme; who'd have thought? Or close enough that it's fine.

These two words every person on Earth has now heard, and roughly half believe next year there will be a third.

And the two words our Venusian neighbor chooses to say, over and over each year in the same sort of way.

Are the same two little words we say to our mothers when we've done something rotten to one of our brothers.

The same two little words our fathers might hear just before or after we’re told "Be a dear."

Just two tiny words; the words of a child! A child from outer space, on a planet so wild.

On Earth these two words they cause all kinds of worry, since the message is always the same: "Very Sorry.”

I’m a co-parent so only had part of the day with my son for Halloween, but we made the best of it with a fun spooky scavenger hunt! The gummy worms are all gone now nom nom nom