From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Today has been a pretty good day

I got e-mails and calls from three family members. Woo!

I successfully made it through the day meeting with important people and doing new hire orientations and my *hopefully* last set of bills and stuff. AND I got home an hour earlier! WOO! And I got to bring home leftovers from the food stuffs we had catered in to work. Yum, Yum, Yum. Then I took a nice 3 hour nap and that was so wonderful!

Now I am uploading pictures from our phones to enjoy on this very blog.
Posted by at

1 comment:

Janika said...

Great job. You are such a capable person. And sweet, to boot.

June 4, 2008 at 7:18 AM

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)