The ancient Greek Hippocratic Oath includes the phrase: "I will not cut for stone, even for the patients in whom the disease is manifest; I will leave this operation to be performed by practitioners," a clear warning for physicians against the "cutting" of persons "laboring under the stone"

My dad is a bit of a brainiac and when I told him we read "Cutting for Stone" he quoted the above.

Thank You Natalie for a fun night!

Evening Poem

November Book!

I'll be announcing this tonight, but in case you want to get a bit of a head start, you can click on the book:

(I've had the book since April, forcing myself not to read it...can't wait!!)

Due to various vacations + Thanskgiving, we decided to have the next meeting on Saturday, December 3rd, 1:00pm, at the ranch.

See you then!

In case I forget...

I first heard about "Buck" on Karen Maezen Miller's blog, and remember thinking, "That's not gonna come to redbox, so I'll never see it." Low & behold, it is coming to Star Hall for one night.

Thursday, December 8 – 7:00 pm

BUCK – Moab Film Circuit
Star Hall – 159 E. Center St., Moab
Directed by Cindy Meehl
Rated PG

A richly textured and visually stunning film that follows Buck Brannaman – a real-life “horse-whisperer” – from his abusive childhood to his phenomenally successful approach to horses. A truly American story about an unsung hero, BUCK is about an ordinary man who has made an extraordinary life despite tremendous odds.

Winner, Audience Award – 2011 Sundance Film Festival; Winner, Audience Award – Full Frame Documentary Film Festival; Official Selection – 2011 SXSW

It's also streaming on netflixs right now for those who have that.

Afternoon in February by Longfellow

The day is ending, The night is descending;

The marsh is frozen,

The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes

The red sun flashes

On village windows

That glimmer red.

The snow recommences;

The buried fences

Mark no longer

The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows,

Like fearful shadows,

Slowly passes

A funeral train.

The bell is pealing,

And every feeling

Within me responds

To the dismal knell;

Shadows are trailing,

My heart is bewailing

And tolling within

Like a funeral bell.