I'm posting this blog from my son's computer--that's how far gone my laptop is. I have a new inverter board coming from somewhere in China, but since it's apparently coming here on the back of a mule, I'm still waiting.

In the meantime, I finished The Complete Sherlock Holmes. This was a fun read, but I had my world view ripped to shreds when I got to the Moriarty bit. I guess I had just always "known" that there was this complicated interwoven relationship between Sherlock and Moriarty--that there were many cases that they were both involved in--sometimes M outsmarted S and vice versa. They bantered with witty finesse and used their mighty brains to outsmart each other and, while they were sworn enemies, they had a deep-seated respect for this other human who was their intellectual equal. But it's not that way AT ALL. There's one itty bitty story involving Moriarty with NO specifics (which Sir Arthur's stories are famous for) and a battle to the death scene that isn't even written into the story--it's only surmised by Watson after the fact.

World. View. Shattered.

I'm posting a poem by Jeannine Hall Gailey from her book Becoming the Villainess:

Okay, Ophelia
by Jeannine Hall Gailey

We've heard you were a victim.
Stop crouching in the shadows, chewing your hair.

You can be graceful, not like a ballerina,
like a hedge of coral,

built up and eaten and worn down
yet alive, carving the rhythms of the seas.

You can be a threshing sledge,
new and sharp with many teeth.