Posts from — in the wee hours

In a tense league match this Saturday, Richard lost in the final minutes to Game of Chance. These two opponents have met sparingly, with Game of Chance consistently beating the newcomer.
The match was played on Powerball Field, a strange choice given Game of Chance’s incredible run of victories there. With $109 million up for grabs in the Cup, Richard began the game with sound strategy, seeming to show very little interest in attack (much like England without Wayne Rooney). Then, with time running out, Richard drove (his Saturn) out to the right flank, turned into a gas station, crossed, and purchased a ticket complete with “lucky numbers.” The crowd was really behind him then, and victory was on his mind. Unfortunately, he forgot to defend the counter.
Game of Chance’s star player, Reality, put up the numbers at the last second, sending Richard into defeat. Said the losing side after the result, “Shit.”

Furnaces never fail in the early fall…they wait until winter is at hand. Last week, I decided to turn off the water to the outside, knowing that the cold was creeping down from the north. Instead, I accidentally turned off the gas. Good thing. When the repair man came to relight the pilots, all of which had died out, he instead put a big red tag on the furnace and informed us that there was a very large crack. We could have blown ourselves up, or else sucked in a lot of CO2. Several chilly days and thousands of dollars later, we have a brand new high-efficiency machine that is keeping the Shea Clan nice and toasty.

There were snow flurries yesterday, but the ground is not yet cold enough for them to stick. Today’s HIGH: 30 degrees f.

I am deep into my research on Clytaemnestra’s control of the stage door in Aeschylus’s Agamemnon. I have only 14 books and articles left to consult, and another 18 pages to write. No problem.

As for my Latin, here is a little sampling of the English that we are supposed to transform into Ciceronian Latin Prose:

“Since Scaevola departed life at his own time, rather that that of his fellow citizens, and died when he might more easily mourn the republic, were he still alive, than help it, and did live for as long as it was permissible to live well and happily in this state, let us grieve, if it must be so, because of our misfortune and loss, but let us treat this truly timely occurrence of his death with good-will rather than pity, so that as often as we think of this most famous and happy man, we may seem to love him rather than ourselves. For if…”

And so on. Knowing that this comes from the Brutus helps me not at all.

The family flourishes. C.C. said “mamama” and “dududu,” though she has not oft repeated these words.