Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Mother's Email
If you tried to send mother an email last week, she did not get it. Something was wrong with the server and Becky lost all the emails and her entire mailbox of addresses. Anyway, it's back up and running as of yesterday, so you can email mother with little, if any, difficulty. I told Becky I would notify everyone. I hope everyone reads my blog :-)
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