Wednesday medley

Once again, Terri has posed some interesting questions, this time for National Sibling Day.

1.    How many siblings do you have? Are you rivals or do you support each other in all you do?

I have three younger sisters.  I'm not very close to ay of them, but I wouldnt say we were rivals either.  It's a weird, complicated relationship.

2.  Have you heard of the Birth Order Book?  What are your thoughts on the premise that your birth order affects everything you do in life?

 

I haven't heard of that book, but I have heard several theories on birth order. I don't know if it's birth order per se, but my two youngest sisters are very different from my other sister and I.  But then again, my parents treated the younger two very differently than they treated the older children.

3.  Is there something that you still do that drives your siblings crazy?

Old habits die hard...

4.  Are you closer to your siblings now than you were when you were younger?

 

Nope.

5.  Would you dare to tell us an embarrassing story about a sibling?

 

Yes, but then I'd  have to kill you.

6.  Tell us something random about your week.

 

I love poetry.  And here's some trivia about one I love:

 

 

On April 10, 1816 Samuel Taylor Coleridge recited his poem "Kubla Khan" to fellow poet Lord Byron, who persuaded him to publish it.

 

Read the poem, you'll be transported to Xanadu.

 

Kubla Khan

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge                                            

Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

   Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round;

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

   The shadow of the dome of pleasure

   Floated midway on the waves;

   Where was heard the mingled measure

   From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

   A damsel with a dulcimer

   In a vision once I saw:

   It was an Abyssinian maid

   And on her dulcimer she played,

   Singing of Mount Abora.

   Could I revive within me

   Her symphony and song,

   To such a deep delight ’twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.