Poor Unfortunate Souls

Jen and I went down to the local animal shelter a couple of weeks ago and delivered 16 pound bag of kitten food after they asked for donations on their Facebook page. While there, we went into the section where they keep the cats, because I wanted to look at a couple they had on their weekly bulletin. There was supposed to be a tortie named Mama. She’s been on the flier for months by that point, but she wasn’t there.

Of Buried Tales

For some reason last night, I dreamed that I was going to give a speech some time later, and as part of it, I wanted to recite the opening of the Canterbury Tales. I believe my intent was to denote that the beauty of the prose can only be truly conveyed with proper pronunciation of the Middle English that has essentially been lost to time with the evolution of the language.