Welcome Julia Claire

Lucas and Selena had their baby! Julia Claire was born this morning around 9.30. Seven pounds and four ounces, and about 19 inches. Tall and thin and cute as can be. She is a giant compared to her big brother on his birthday.

I visited her this evening and then went to see Jacob. He's a holy terror, running around, throwing anything he can get his hands on, and generally getting into stuff no matter how secure it looks. He's just big enough to start wrestling and rough-housing with. Fun.

what am I doing wrong?

I have a rice cooker that I use often to cook all kinds of different rice. But no matter what kind of rice I am cooking, I find I have the same problem - a lot of rice sticking to the bottom of the rice cooker. It really cuts down on my yield and is a waste of food. Am I doing something wrong? I am following the rules that came with the rice cooker for the rice/water ratio.

the coolest thing: October

Little people in London, just tryin' to live.

two more poems

If I ever have a funeral, or even a memorial service of some kind, I'd like this poem to be read:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!

-Mary Frye (1932)

and "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" by John Donne

Meeting at Night, by Robert Browning - 1845

Meeting at Night

THE gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand. 

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!