amo

Just wanted to let you know I’m taking a break for a few days. New blog entries will be back before you know it, Lord willing!

Memry is the classic game of concentration using Flickr photos. Pick a tag and play. I used balloon, butterfly, and bubble, to name a few.

The Toymaker is a web site featuring paper toys and other paper crafts designed by artist Marilyn Scott Waters to print, cut out, and glue. The site itself is beautifully illustrated and full of excellent quotations.

(via)

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

Lord willing, I will see you very soon!

(Photo A. M. Otwell © 2003)

Self Portrait
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)

SONNET XL.
SEVERED SELVES.

Two separate divided silences,
Which, brought together, would find loving voice;
Two glances which together would rejoice
In love, now lost like stars beyond dark trees;
Two hands apart whose touch alone gives ease;
Two bosoms which, heart-shrined with mutual flame,
Would, meeting in one clasp, be made the same;
Two souls, the shores wave-mocked of sundering seas:—

Such are we now. Ah! may our hope forecast
Indeed one hour again, when on this stream
Of darkened love once more the light shall gleam?—
An hour how slow to come, how quickly past,—
Which blooms and fades, and only leaves at last,
Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.

Links:
Art Renewal Center
Wikipedia
The Complete Writings and Pictures of Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Okay, I admit that I find much of the merchandise at Despair, Inc., funnier than I probably should, but the Pessimist’s Mug is pure genius!

I hadn’t been to their site in a while, so I was not aware they’d added a Parody Motivator Generator, so you can make your own parody motivators!

print your own graph paper

May 4, 2008 Update: Here’s another link where you can print graph paper. . . and notebook paper, music paper, etc.

Softies that eat other softies.

grumpy girl tries to smile.

Music Monsters (via).

Blood Puddle Pillows.

Atomic Food Containers.

Okay, so maybe I like my “cute” a little twisted!

31415926535897932384626433832795028841 is a prime number.

It’s also the first 38 digits of pi.

(via)

My Last Duchess

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fr Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps
Fr Pandolf chanced to say “Her mantle laps
“Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
“Must never hope to reproduce the faint
“Half-flush that dies along her throat:” such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—(which I have not)—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
“Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
“Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
—E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Robert Browning (1812-1889)