BerthaBlog

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

– Lt.-Col. John McCrae

Alpha Geek: What are you scowling about?

Bertha: I’m trying to enter a new store ingredient in this recipe program, but I keep getting an error.

Alpha Geek: Let me take a look.

*thirty seconds later*

Alpha Geek: Okay, I entered the ingredient.

Bertha: How did you do that so fast?

Alpha Geek: I’m smart.

Bertha: No really, how did you do that so fast?

Alpha Geek: I reverse-engineered the program in my head to figure out what it would need in order for me to enter that data, and figured out a workaround.

Bertha: Wow. That’s just scary.