Done up the work
Mother not feeling well
Mopped the kitchen a.m.
P.M. we went down to Grandmas
Grandpa ill in bed. Aunt Mate up from Three Rivers.
Ray:
30 degrees am. 44 degrees pm. Fair
at home all day
Cayla:
Worked at the sleep clinic today.
Spent time with the kids in the afternoon.
Tarek came home early because I was planning on going to a Medical Botox talk in the evening.
We fed the kids and I went to the talk and dinner. My boss gave the talk, which was primarily about Botox and spasticity although we also talked about Botox and migraine as well as tremor. Botox is really a fabulous drug. It's something that would have killed people 100 years ago, but now it gives tremendous relief to people who are truly suffering...
And on that note with this blustery winter weather, I leave you with a poem of Robert Frost's, a contemporary of Dora and Ray, and also a farmer. Robert Frost died 50 years ago yesterday.
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen Lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Cayla, I had Frost's book of poetry out yesterday for quite some time searching for something I could enjoy that I hadn't - either read - or passed over before. "Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening," I found on page 224. One can imaging holding the "check lines" while sitting in the sleigh and viewing the scenery while gentle flakes are falling and no birds singing at that time of day, and the world is at peace. I too, have a promise to keep. Supposed to be at Spence's in a bit. Yards instead of miles.
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