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It takes a very special talent to, while washing up, almost drop one glass and, in the process of successfully catching it and preserving it from harm, break two other glasses. (Nicer ones, too, of which I have fewer.)

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So, have mood icons gone away? I hadn't noticed that until now. I miss the little penguins.

I am liking Livejournal less and less, but I have eight years of content buried here...

enough micro posts....

I finally bit the bullet yesterday and ordered a new mattress. Even if I'm only here for another six or seven months, I'm tired of being almost as tired and achy when I get up in the morning as when I went to bed.

( The rest of the story... )

now *that* is writing

It was dusk when Nicholas reached the end of his journey. On his right the sky was tinged with the dying sunset above the black spine of the mountains. Before him, lamplit in snapdragon silks, was a city of tents, the hosts of its banners stiffened like hog-thorns. He could see the viper and eagle of Alessandro and Bosio Sforza; the cross and crescents in azure and gold of the papal banner, and above all, the eagle Federigo, Count of Urbino, the flag of its commander. On the hill, the tents of the enemy lay like embers, and the banner of Count Jacopo Piccinino could only be guessed at.

(From Chapter 35 of Dorothy Dunnett's Niccolo Rising)