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O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Why, it must be global freezing

Tonight it's supposed to get down to 43 degrees. This weekend we had the air-conditioner running and tonight I may need to fire up the heat. I guess the good news is that they're not predicting a frost. Yet.

While I don't expect the weather to conform to straight line progressions, this wild swinging is driving me and my allergies nuts.

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