Morning notes

This is how my brain works: Last night in chat, DC mentioned something about Pork Riblets. After asking if "Riblets" was a brand name, I babbled on about the word making me think of ribs and ribbits (frog sounds) at the same time, which got me trying to remember if frogs have ribs (forgive me, this was late at night and my memory was halfway to sleep). So after trying to remember something about the 10th-grade frog dissection other than the fact that our group's frog's brains were insufficiently scrambled and it kept trying to crawl out of the bag it was stored in, I grabbed the Franco to Goethals volume of the encyclopedia off the shelf and found myself looking at drawings of froggie vertebrae until I spied the label for the frog's Achilles tendon, which set me off thinking about what an amphibian Trojan war would be like. What ruse would Greek frogs use to get inside the city? Frogs tend not to ride horses into battle, you know. DC was a bit nonplussed when I told him he had to come up with an answer before I could go to bed or I'd be lying awake all night wondering about different wooden devices to be hidden in. Finally he came up with wooden lilypads (too flat), wooden flies, and wooden toadstools. Anybody else have other ideas?

In other news: Walked over three miles two days in a row. Amazingly still feeling capable of walking this morning, in spite of getting too little sleep. Hooray!

Quote of the morning

'There's nothing great
Nor small,' has said a poet of our day,
(Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve
And not be thrown out by the matin's bell)
And truly, I reiterate, . . nothing's small!
No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:
And,-glancing on my own thin, veined wrist,-
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct. Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more, from the first similitude.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Aurora Leigh, Seventh Book.

Grr.

I am so very much not fit for human society right now. Remember how I said that since I began feeling less depressed, my predominant emotion has been anger? Am now altogether too tempted to take out my anger on the undeserving. Of course in the heat of the moment I tend to think they are deserving--and heck, some of the folks I've had to deal with probably do need at least a good tongue-lashing and possibly another kind of lashing, but Not. Right. Now.

Right now I just need to find a way to keep everyone away from me until I'm a little bit closer to sane.