~Joan (the baby one), Karen (the "chosen" one), Dad (wiped out one after the weekend, by the look of him), Moi (evil one, apparently), Cameron (bumboni one a.k.a. Uncle Bum), at family reunion near Cold Lake, Alberta~

It is too nice out to sit one more moment at this desk, where I've been working at my computer since 10 o'clock this morning. I'll leave you with this poem I came across this morning, not long after writing to Joan that I don't want to sell my present leisure time in order to purchase my future, or, to put it more simply -- I don't want to work twice as many hours now so I can save for retirement:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.