Monday, August 30, 2010
Super excited! Signed copy of "Inside SQL Server", from Kalen Delaney, just arrived
Friday, August 27, 2010
Beautiful and free picture ebooks from NASA, http://bit.ly/5EwKin, where I worked for 3 yrs. X-15 book is the bomb-diggity.
Labels: NASA
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Looks like I might be speaking at sqlsat58 in Minneapolis, if they accept my lame-o session ideas. ;^)
Labels: sqlsat58
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Live in or near St Louis, MO? Join me on Sept 14th - http://ping.fm/g306M
I've had an astronomically busy couple weeks. Now, to tackle the email tidal wave awaiting me. :^P
Monday, August 23, 2010
To My Beloved on Our Second Anniversary
This lovely poem reminded me of "covenant marriage" and the lifelong commitment of I and Love and You.
Epithalamium
by Thomas Lynch
That man who was married in the same black suit
he was laid out in, years later, and buried,
his widow's tears—they might all make sense to you,
now that the two of you are to be married.
You've seen old photos of the two of them
taken seven decades back or more.
They showed up smiling and said, of course
we will, for better or worse, and then
they raised their glasses, cut the cake and kissed
and tossed the bride's bouquet and garter out
and thanked their parents and assembled guests,
then danced until the candles were blown out,
then danced some more; they were that enamored.
And who could blame them, so nearly perfect
in their flesh and finery and desires;
in all ways poised and blessed and elect
as you are now, and may you always be:
each of you eager to please the other
to let the selfish minute pass, to see
yourselves perfected always in each other.
That old man, when he was young, he brought his bride
home to the house he had readied for her,
and swept her up and carried her inside
as was the custom then, and then together
they helped each other out of their new clothes:
his gabardines, her lace and satin gown,
his tie, her veil, his buttons and her bows
then stood there looking at themselves, alone.
Before they fell into their embracing,
because they thought they'd need them in the end,
they tucked their garments carefully away
in cedar boxes underneath the bed.
And when the going got a little rough
when patience frayed or tempers flared, when love
seemed to have left them only filled with loss
as in all lifelong marriages it must,
when forgiveness and forgetting seemed
impossible, they'd kneel beside their bed
and bury their faces in those wedding things—
her tears, his curses, her fears, his pride and dread,
all dried and muffled in that day's old raiments
which smelled of their sweet youth and promises.
And though they never settled everything,
they did their best to do the next best thing.
"Epithalamium" by Thomas Lynch, from Walking Papers: Poems 1999-2009. © W.W. Norton and Co., 2010.
Epithalamium
by Thomas Lynch
That man who was married in the same black suit
he was laid out in, years later, and buried,
his widow's tears—they might all make sense to you,
now that the two of you are to be married.
You've seen old photos of the two of them
taken seven decades back or more.
They showed up smiling and said, of course
we will, for better or worse, and then
they raised their glasses, cut the cake and kissed
and tossed the bride's bouquet and garter out
and thanked their parents and assembled guests,
then danced until the candles were blown out,
then danced some more; they were that enamored.
And who could blame them, so nearly perfect
in their flesh and finery and desires;
in all ways poised and blessed and elect
as you are now, and may you always be:
each of you eager to please the other
to let the selfish minute pass, to see
yourselves perfected always in each other.
That old man, when he was young, he brought his bride
home to the house he had readied for her,
and swept her up and carried her inside
as was the custom then, and then together
they helped each other out of their new clothes:
his gabardines, her lace and satin gown,
his tie, her veil, his buttons and her bows
then stood there looking at themselves, alone.
Before they fell into their embracing,
because they thought they'd need them in the end,
they tucked their garments carefully away
in cedar boxes underneath the bed.
And when the going got a little rough
when patience frayed or tempers flared, when love
seemed to have left them only filled with loss
as in all lifelong marriages it must,
when forgiveness and forgetting seemed
impossible, they'd kneel beside their bed
and bury their faces in those wedding things—
her tears, his curses, her fears, his pride and dread,
all dried and muffled in that day's old raiments
which smelled of their sweet youth and promises.
And though they never settled everything,
they did their best to do the next best thing.
"Epithalamium" by Thomas Lynch, from Walking Papers: Poems 1999-2009. © W.W. Norton and Co., 2010.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Adobe Air is almost able to challenge Apple iTunes for "most-hated-too-frequent updating" software
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Answered 300 emails last night. 141 new ones came in this morning. :^(
Monday, August 09, 2010
I've added a new blog post detailing my opinions about the demise of Google Wave. Read it here: http://ping.fm/kboBA
