March into History is a Flash Fiction or a short, short story. Flash fiction is generally any short, short story, five hundred word to fifteen hundred word (500-1500) story. But there are short, short stories 5oo hundred words or less. Dusting is to dust like with a feather duster or however one dusts his or her home, as in, "I was dusting the the end tables in the living room." I'm not very good at explanations. might be best to ask Google. I've found he is much better informed than am I.
(3/8/21) Monday Time to get serious about COVID-19 vaccinations despite warnings from my own Dr how difficult they are to schedule here. You can request an appointment online on the GA Health Dept webpage. They tell you to have voicemail active, because they only call you one time. I've never been able to set up voice mail on a cell phone. Started trying to set it up at 9:30 a.m. At 1:30 called AT&T for help. The girl went above and beyond the call of duty to help, but to no avail. Finally told me to go to a local AT&T store and see if they would do it for me. At 3 pm I applied for the vaccination anyway, without voicemail. Then called a pharmacy nearby listed as another provider and they said they could do it next week if they got more vaccines this week. They will also call back. At 6 pm I got voicemail set up on the landline. It had an option to add a cell phone to the same mailbox. IT WORKED! ..By 6:30 pm I had voicemail on both phones. It only took me 9 hours... Mama never said...
Got a call from the Health Dept and couldn't make the phone button answer. Cursing phone. Blessing voicemail. Called back. Left message. She called me right back. Appointment at 2 pm tomorrow. One of the 2 shot vaccines. Closer even than the pharmacy. They will also schedule the 2nd shot tomorrow. The rumors of problems here appear to be greatly exaggerated.
I notice he uses "hold ... my enemy in play," rather than hold them at bay. I believe he might have been what one could kindly call a mischief maker.
Portrait in a Minute: Robert Frost David C. Ward, historian at the National Portrait Gallery, discusses poet Robert Frost. He is one of the many poets featured in our exhibition "Poetic Likeness: Modern American Poets"
I don't know much about Frost, next to nothing really, but he does remind me of one of my favorite writers, E. B. White and White sort of reminds me of Frost.
Bill, to answer your question, I'm not familiar with E.B. White's writing. Not familiar with most things. (I never even stayed at a Holiday Inn Express ) We did use Strunk and White's Elements of Style in a English composition class once. It was a good little book. Off topic. Correction. I posted earlier that Robert Frost's wife had goats, it was Carl Sandburg's wife. Got brain wires crossed.
Yes I have a copy. It had been updated by White over the years. He wrote several books and short stories for a couple of magazines that come and went over the years. He was also a New Englander which makes me think there may be something special about some of these folks from New England.
(3/12/21) Friday - Day 49 - 7 week update On day 42 I thought it was safe to officially declare 10 lbs down (original goal). The plan at this point was to start gradually increasing calories a little each week. Weight started jumping around. Took 1 day off just to see what would happen (1590 calories). Delusional advice from previous dieting buddies. Appointment for the vaccination Wednesday required dusting off some decent (pre COVID) clothes, which a year ago were loose. Still too tight. So I'm going to continue for a few more pounds. Calories today: 790
More by Robert Frost. The only thing missing is snow and an axe. ( ) On A Tree Fallen Across The Road (To hear us talk) The tree the tempest with a crash of wood Throws down in front of us is not bar Our passage to our journey’s end for good, But just to ask us who we think we are Insisting always on our own way so. She likes to halt us in our runner tracks, And make us get down in a foot of snow Debating what to do without an ax. And yet she knows obstruction is in vain: We will not be put off the final goal We have it hidden in us to attain, Not though we have to seize earth by the pole And, tired of aimless circling in one place, Steer straight off after something into space. . In Winter in the Woods Alone In winter in the woods alone Against the trees I go I mark a maple for my own And lay the maple low. At four o’clock I shoulder ax, And in the afterglow I link a line of shadowy tracks Across the tinted snow. I see for Nature no defeat In one tree’s overthrow Or for myself in my retreat For yet another blow. Girdled maple in front of cabin, 2021 (It refuses to die )