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
Monday, March 27, 2006
Okay, We're Pooped!
The kids have gone home. Grandma and Grandpa are reflecting on the last ten days and preparing to relax. It was an energy zapping time and we're ready to get back to daily routine, but when I think about these wonderful grandchildren and the entertaining time they provide us and each other, I want to cry. I miss them aleady.
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