Feltie Tree Topper Angels!

After a hectic morning at work which can only be the sign of the fact that it's a few days before Christmas, an afternoon and evening of relaxation (a little cleaning): baking muffins, watching Terry Pratchett movies (and an episode of Buffy which was probably a ba-a-a-d idea, considering that Christi's away for the weekend), and crafting angel felties for our 3 mini Christmas trees! :) It's been nice. One more day of work, and then...Christmas Eve! and then...Christmas! Merry Christmas, everyone! Here is a random poem, composed on the spot. Not very Christmas-y, i'm afraid...but...enjoy your holiday!!

Time's run out when
Words are thin
When Meaning's weak
And Chatter wins
When all you've dreamed of's
Coming true
But leaves you wanting
What you knew
When debts are owed
And unrepented
Grace held back
Grace unrelented
What to keep and
What to lose
Is neither yours nor mine
To choose.

Besty-Bonnie Bitty-Bat

Argh! I was trying to get over fretting about the sideways pictures...but that's two in a row! Why??? alas and alack. Anyway. It's almost Christmas! And even closer to being Daniel's and my 3-month anniversary! (Our first quarter-annually :) so we will be going to get PEAR GORGONZOLA ETC PIZZA at hey, mambo! downtown then driving to see the be-yoo-ti-ful christmas lights at rhema. Hooray! and tonight is Christmas with Christi--there will be stockings exchanged and baby christmas trees lit up and it will be lovely. :)

in other news: i need a haircut.

Here is a poem, composed while drinking an extra-special coffee from Doubleshot. their columbian holiday offering. (i think the name is Maduro, but i could have that wrong) You should get some while it's still available!:

Besty-Bonnie Bitty-Bat
Was flitting through the sky
When something shiny down below
Caught Betsy's soft brown eye.
She flitted closer--found a lake,
Serene and full of stars,
And one fat fish who greeted her:
"Ahoy! Friend from afar!"
"How Could you know that I'm your friend?
I might be fierce and mean!
I Could swoop down and gobble you--
I Could be in-between:
A sometimes-friend, a sometimes-not,
A whimsy-driven beast...
Who jokes with you quite harmlessly,
Until it's time to feast!"
The fish--a trout--just chuckled,
"Oh, I'm sure I've not to fear!
I'm twice as large as little you,
And you can't catch me here!
If you should try, I'd dive beneath
These gently lapping waves,
And you could never follow me,
However fierce or brave!"
"Well, fine. I'll be your friend," she sniffed,
"But don't assume I'm weak!
I may be cute and furry, but
That doesn't mean I'm meek!"
She bared her teeth; the trout bared his
(That is, he grinned) and said
"If I assume as much again,
A curse upon my head!"
She shook his fin, he shook her wing--
They reconciled at last,
And spent the nighttime chatting of
The future and the past.

Nose Poem, Weird and Melancholy

I wish I had a nose as large
As twenty-times my own,
To sniff the scent of flower tears
When meadows have been mown.
To smell out sorrow--empty nests,
Once baby birds have flown--
Or miracles, like maples growing
Where a seed was sown.

With Apologies to All Brads

1. Goofy self-portrait 2. New Doubleshot coffee mug! Get yours for just $10! yea! :) 3. poor-quality poem illustration.

Today's poem is about one restaurant's attempt to make the most [money off] of a bad situation. :)

Try something new! (though it looks like a mess,
A medley of mush mixed in deepest distress)
See, Chef had a day most unspeakably bad,
And yet he created this dish we call...Brad!
The "B" stands for Butter, the "R" for Romaine,
The "A"'s for Asparagus, "D" is for Drain,
Cause that's where this masterpiece nearly wound up
When poor Chef lost his faith that good people would sup
Upon "Brad" with the rev'rance befitting a god,
And, with the last mouthful, rise up and applaud.
But we would not see him betrayed by his doubts,
And stopped him before he threw poor Bradley out,
Thus saving--ta-da!--a new taste for your buds!
So, try something new! It just looks like a dud.

Introducing Cecily the Cowardly Cat

Thanks go Daniel for this inspiring picture of Cecily, The Cowardly Cat :) This morning started off with lovely coffee at Doubleshot Coffee Company, and chatting/drawing/reading/writing. Purrr-fect! :) Follow that up with a oh-so-brief day at work and lunch at Tei Kei's (sesame chicken), a visit to home depot for some plastic window insulation (which is where the day hit a slight rough patch), and the promise of a nice relaxing evening = a very satisfactory day. Anyway, here is Cecily's poem:

Cecily Cat has a problem with heights:
She crawls on the ceiling both morning and night.
The coming-down scares her, she hates the foul ground,
For it's there that the lice and the rodents abound.
And Cecily's nothing if not cowardly,
So, despite disconvenience and difficulty,
She sharpened her claws so they'd help her to cling
To even the slickest of upside-down things.
And up from her perch she can crane her white neck,
And mock all the beasts that have made her a wreck
By scaring her back when she lived down below
By pretending to threaten to nibble her toes.
"So, who's clever now?!" she exclaims from her height,
But nobody hears her, not even a mite--
For all of her fears are made up in her head:
There are no pests near here, not living nor dead.
She's merely heard stories or mice, rats, and stuff--
But she is a coward, so that is enough.

One o' Those Rant-y Ones. Always a Bad Idea.

BLEAAAAAAARRRRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! blech. blech. blech. argh. what. ever.
sigh....
This isn't really a poem perhaps. I had an idea to have the words form a robot, but...turns out i didn't want to spend the time figuring that all out. so, nothing but a rant in short-line format:

I am a Robot.
You don't keep me for
My smile,
Sense of humor,
Laugh, or
Love.
I get things done.
And am worth six flesh-dwellers in
Efficiency.
They chat and idle while
I set my jaw,
Spend time in friendship-building while
I bend my back and
Work and
Work and
Work.
My one emotion?
Panic,
Pure anxiety:
That what I'm programmed for
May not get done,
Or that somehow
I've missed the point--
Like maybe I should be There,
Laughing,
Smiling,
Offering
Whatever heart however small a robot holds.

And when I work,
I know I work too slow,
And when I stop,
It's threatening to burst,
And when they meet for drinks
And I'm alone
I wish I played a part
That I've rehearsed
And know as well as this:
I'm just a robot
So I won't be missed.

It ends pessimistically but i know that's not right. One lady I know has been trying to help me recognize the "darts" that Satan throws at us--i.e., lies that lead to self-loathing. Lies like: "People are better off without knowing me." "My primary characteristics are: awkward, unfriendly and worthless." "i have a dumb sense of humor and don't work out enough and therefore should live a life of guilt." but even when you recognize them as lies you've been believing them for so long you can't just stop believing. and you know that you're not called to a life of fear and self-pity and selfishness, and that the lies don't even make sense, but they're still there and you feel paralyzed.
i don't want to disappear. and especially not to stop growing.

Dude!

Good afternoon! I realized yesterday (or earlier today?) that it's been at least 3 weeks since my last zombie feltie. Today: Surfer Zombie! Which I made while watching four episodes of Better Off Tedd, Season 2, compliments of the combined services of the Wii and Netflix. :) such a productive day...guilt. guilt.
Anyway, here is a surfer-inspired poem. Oh, and I was having some geography issues. "Lake Tahoe, Michigan," sounded familiar...then i looked it up to be sure and got confused...then looked it up further and the internet seems to confirm my belief in a Lake Tahoe, Michigan, although according to google, i'm not sure it's the most well-known Lake Tahoe??? Thoughts?

Steve-o used to surf, but he
May never surf again--
You see, he moved from Florida to
Lake Tahoe, Michigan.

And lakes are never oceans, and
Some waves cannot be surfed.
And glitzy things may not be gold...
However much they're worth.

Montage!

Good Evening! Well, here is what happened with the fish: I didn't cook it. I went to the worlds most excruciating spin class...while Daniel came over and cooked a Fan-scrumptious meal of breaded lemon-pepper catfish, potatoes sauteed in italian dressing, and corn on the cob! Soooo...incredible...Five stars, yes sir! Today, i did some impressive housecleaning type things, including buying caulking for the windows...but not, as it turns out, the gun that is necessary for caulk application :( Ah well. Then lots of Harry Potter 7 reading! And a foiled nap. :( bad coffee.
Today's poem is just completely random and makes no sense, but was kind of fun to write anyway:

Rivers, roads, or roundabouts,
Salmon, sisters, skin,
Travels, turnips, twists, and trouts,
Universes, then...
A brief explosive dialect,
A language locked in time,
Whispers, wizards, worlds, wits,
A riddle closed with rhyme.

Hello again! I hope you all had a wonderful thanksgiving! Mine was fun, and relaxing...no internet and minimal cell phone usage for 5 days! :) and no work, of course (besides helping out with vacuuming, bed-making, etc :) I have zero idea where today's poem came from...Line 1 just popped into my head, and it went from there...however, i will say that for my high school's production of The Hobbit, I played a dwarf (which one, i do not remember) with a uni-brow penciled in. You should try it sometime, just to see what it looks like!
Oh, and today at the grocery store, i bought Catfish Fillets! (because they are so much cheaper than salmon!) Dad's lemon pepper catfish was one of his signature meals when we were growing up, and oh-so-delicious. we'll see how mine turns out :)

"Uni-brows are underrated,"
One-Brow Bill proposed,
"Just think of all the warmth they offer
To that patch of nose.
In frigidaires like Canada,
The South or Northern Pole,
That bit of extra warmth is worth
Its triple weight in gold!
I've Never, Ever been ashamed
Of this genetic quirk,
And should you bid me 'Pluck your brows',
I'd promptly go beserk!
The only time it's ever been
A trait I longed to curse
Was when the girl I loved informed me
I could not look worse
If some pernicious caterpillar
Slept between my eyes--
But, given time, she married me
(A bit to my surprise).
So...yes! I love my uni-brow!
I'll sport it till I die!"
Thus ending his impassioned speech,
Friend Bill began to cry.

T-t-t-turkey!

ugh, sorry about the blurry image! bummer. :( today's poem was inspired by looking forward to my roommate cooking her first turkey tonight! although, after reading it, you will probably imagine that i considered this event with trepidation. I didn't. i have absolute confidence that the bird currently in our oven will turn out golden brown, moist, and delicious (it's already starting to smell lovely!)...it's just more fun to write poems about disaster :)
on another note, as of this time tomorrow i will BE ON VACATION!! heading home to wichita with daniel for a wonderful week of family and relaxation! :) soooo excited. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

It's time to cook the turkey, dear,
(That tasty King of Birds!)
It isn't hard, it won't take long--
At least, that's what I've heard...
An hour later: smoke erupts
From where the fowl reclines,
The smoke alarm is howling, aargh!
I need a glass of wine!
Or maybe two, yes, two will do.
Now! Isn't cooking fun?
With bottle, baster, one poor bird
Who's slightly overdone...
They say his name was Tom. Poor Tom!
Let's mourn your wasted life!
Long days of gluttony cut short
Beneath the butcher's knife!
Another hour: drenched in tears,
Glass bottle yet in hand.
Oh, Tom! Poor blackened bird, Alas!
For everything you planned:
A poultry wife, three gobbling chicks,
Sweet quests for grubs and bugs...
I'm sorry, Tom! Forgive me, friend!
Accept this humble hug!
...But what can hugs and tardy tears
Do for a roasted bird?
As much (not much) as poetry,
And eulogistic words.

Monsters on Me Mind

Good afternoon! Today while driving home, i sniffed a smell like burning toast and two vehicles zipped around me...naturally, i was terrified that my car was on fire and going to blow up, so i drove along for a few blocks grimacing and craning my neck away from the dashboard. and then the smell dissipated. i'm so paranoid sometimes, my goodness. here is a poem about childhood fears...and how what you fear may actually be real...but not in the way you think. eh, it's not actually as deep as all that... :) enjoy!

Little does Lucinda know,
Despite her gnawing fear,
The monster underneath her bed
Is really, truly, Here...
It's me! My name is Moldymop,
The Monstrous Monster-Beast!
And I have scared a million children!
Well...I've tried, at least...
I'm pink, you see--that doesn't help--
And cursed with sweet brown eyes.
They think I'm just a bunny,
Though I'm twice a rabbit's size.
They pester me for Easter eggs
And chocolate--greedy brats!
And one (the worst!) caught hold of me
And made me wear a hat!
I didn't like the hat one bit.
It made my head look small.
So if I cannot scare this girl,
I'm quitting once for all!
My plan is to remain unseen,
For sight is my demise.
It's when I leap out from the bed
They laugh until they cry.
It's not My fault I'm cute and pink!
My heart and thoughts are vile!
And so, Lucinda's my last hope--
I've Got to scare this child!

One Goblin, Two Eyes

Good afternoon/early evening!
My house smells like cinnamon...pumpkin cookies fresh out o' the oven! Mmmmm....contentment. That, and a few certain other things are making life extra-extra right now :) extra enjoyable, that is. But i've been too busy to write much in the way of poetry! The blog is suffering, i fear. but...it's okay. anyway, here is a short poem about a Goblin named Grubbs, whose portrait hangs above:

Knobbly knees and calloused toes
And nails bit to nubs,
Are some more-pleasing aspects of
The goblin known as Grubbs.
His beard, a gnarly, wispy web
(And dripping, oft, with drink),
Must be his most repellent feature
(Foolish men might think).
But neither beard nor knobbly knees
Nor gnawed-on nails, nor toes
Are any where as close to hellish
As his ghastly nose.
You see, Grubbs' nose is crooked, green,
And caked with purple snot.
What's worse, it stands responsible
For all the kids he's caught.
Oh yes, grim Grubbs eats children--
What else Would a goblin munch?
(I hear he cannot taste them, he just
Loves to hear bones crunch!)
I guess I do not really need
To caution "Stay away!"
If you meet Grubbs...well, he's a goblin,
What more can I say?
His heart shines through his blood-shot eyes,
It's murderous and mad.
You'll be long-gone before he thinks,
"My, what a scrumptious lad!"
That is, as long as you sight Grubbs
Before he sniffs you out...
'Cause then your only hope is that
A strong man hears you shout!


And two poems written...last night?...or the previous. There was supposed to be a Green Eye poem as well, but it is unfinished. Also, the meter on the second works if you mispronounce "comfortably" (i.e., pronounce it how I usually do, 'comf-tor-bly'...ugh, that looks pretty awful :) poor English.

Brown Eye
Is a shadow, parched for light,
Retreating to the vagueness of regret.
Fog-comfort: Twisting freedom to become
Another being; blending into gray,
By Fear betrayed.

Blue Eye
Is a river that has met
The sea, and comes into its rest.
The rise-and-fall of tides, but comfortably,
The sparkling surface sheen, the deepening
Of blue plus blinding sunlight,
Ocean-green.

The End is Near! (Zombie Pirates Attack!)

Zombie Pirate!!! EEEEEEARGH! Dead Duck and Zombie Puppy missed their photo opp's...but this makes 5 out of 16 zombie felties completed! :)
I tried to write a sweet poem, but was having troubles. So here is a repetitive poem about the end of things (and an autumnal scene to accompany it!)...

Much will be erased today,
And much be over wrought.
Much more must be replaced today,
Forever and forgot.

A rope to be unwound tonight,
A star to disappear.
A lover will be left tonight,
For faithlessness (for fear).

And kisses kissed and arms embraced,
And palm caressing palm--
A blink, a flash, a madman's trick,
A storm...and then...a calm.

All About Alliteration!

Hello! Fate has gifted me with a taking-on of new responsibilities at work, and I feel like I haven't taken the time to write in awhile. Which may be, like, three days? Between the last post and this one, I wrote one sonnet describing a certain feeling of frustration...but it's terrible and shall never be found outside the...dark recesses of my journal :) seriously. It did, however, include the phrase "i punched a box of lettuce" which is true. Sometimes you just feel like punching things and a cardboard box of lettuce offers a resistant yet cushioned medium. Highly recommended, no damage done. Today's poems are barely that (poems, that is) but they are here for you nonetheless! Maybe they'll become and Alphabet series, but who knows. Here goes:

A Sentimental Snail slowly sobbed into his soup.
"Just eat it!" scolded Auntie. "Don't be such a nincompoop!"

Acrobatic Artisans are able to aspire
To baking bread while somersaulting through a ring of fire.

Terrified tarantulas are trembling, top to toe,
For piercing through the night, two frightful eyes just watch...and glow...

And just for ridiculousness, here is another start to an alphabetical poem that will never amount to anything :)

A is for Abommable...
Abomdamibble...Crap!
Okay, A's still for Apple, (or,
For those with iPhones, App).

Who's Bad With Names?

Good evening! Today's GREAT UNEXPECTED FIND at Borders: "Zombie Felties" by Nicola Tedman and Sarah Skeate! "How to raise 16 gruesome felt creatures from the undead". I started with Zombie Kitty and Classic Zombie :) like Daniel says, zombies are (can be) cute! the ones in the book look way more professional though :)
on a poem-related note, a recent quote from a wise friend: "People like it when you know their names." Oops. Guilty of name-forgetfulness...and name-neglectfulness (never getting up the 'courage' to ask for it in the first place. huh??). Here is a poem about a prince:

Once upon a time, a prince
Named Henry William James
Resided in a kingdom. He
Was very bad with names.
"How are you, Lady...pardon me!"
He'd blush and run away.
"Good morrow, Sir...uh...isn't this
A lovely, sunny day?"
He fretted over this, and often
Cried himself to sleep.
The King and Queen paid wizards to
Discover how to keep
A single name in their son's head--
But all their tricks were vain--
For how could one thus burdened
Ever hope to truly reign?
The servants would not show respect,
While courtiers would resent
Such seeming snobbery, and start
A war o'er this neglect!
Poor prince! He was a humble lad,
Quite bright--just bad with names...
Perhaps he'd have been better if
His own was simply "James."

Pizzadillas and Spunkanella!

Good afternoon! Here is a poem inspired by some adorable Halloween spider stickers that my roommate got for me. Oh, and I revisited a childhood favorite last night for dinner: Pizzadillas! Put a little bit of butter in a frying pan, let it melt, then lay a tortilla down, cover the tortilla with tomato sauce, a layer of pepperonis, and cheese. Place a second tortilla on top. Flip over when the first side gets golden brown and crispy, and cook second side until cheese is melted and tortilla is not burnt. Yum!! Fun!

Spunkanella Spider got
All tangled in her web.
She twisted, turned, and shouted till
Her strength began to ebb--
"Well, this is quite embarassing!
We're not supposed to die
By being trapped like this--these webs
Are meant for catching flies!
I wonder what the stone will say
That hovers o'er my grave?
'Here's Spunkanella Stupid Spider. She
Could not be saved
From her own tangled web, alas!
(Perhaps it's better so--
She had the fastest spinning legs,
But her poor brain was slow.)'"
A fly flew by and snickered, "Ha!
What irony! How droll!"
But Spunkinella glared him down,
And he trembled for his soul.
"I beg your pardon, madam! And
I meant no disrespect!"
"Then get me down! You (tasty), rude,
Free-flying little insect!"
The fly--you'd think him very dumb--
Approached the sticky strands.
"Now, if I let you go, you mayn't
Eat me--understand?"
"Of course I won't! Just hurry, please!"
The faint arachnid begged.
"And to make sure you don't, I'll free
All but a single leg--
I'll zip away while you unwind
That final 'prisoned foot,"
The fly informed, pragmatically.
His eyes shone black as soot.
"Oh, darn!" The spider muttered,
"I was hoping for a snack!
Ah well. Tomorrow, he'll forget
And come a-buzzing back!"

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween! Last night I accommodated Daniel by smuggling him some fake blood to use as shock (and fun) factor in his bicycle race, the Spooky Spoke :) In turn, he ate my brains out. Yay! Today after church, i bought some Halloween candy for the neighbor kids...butterfingers and hot tamales. did i do good? I was hoping for the flavored tootsie rolls (my FAVORITE!) but...those two are also my favorite. Get this: they were replacing the rapidly depleting halloween candy with red, white, and green candy! christmas is Out Of Control!! merry christmas already!
anyway...today's poem is a recycled zombie poem i wrote a couple months ago, but as it's halloween, tis fitting. i hope you all get lots of candy, even if you are too old for trick-or-treatin'. rot them teeth!

Once I was a human, many happy years ago.
Today I am a zombie, and I'd like you all to know
That zombies have it pretty rough: The living want us dead,
And there's no law restraining them from bashing in our heads.
So here I call for compromise--we Have to have some brains,
But You could choose them--how 'bout those from the criminally insane?
Or ponder this: how many brains Are hardly ever used--
For TV turns them all to mush (Poor brains! You're so abused!)
Don't let a good mind go to waste! We have a use for it!
Now can't you see this plan is for our mutual benefit?
We'll work together, fight for peace, till loving kindness reigns:
Our right to live an undead life--your right to use your....BRAINS!!!

Poor Basil...

Good afternoon! Quick poem today, a flash-"inspiration" i had a few moments ago when I looked over at my potted sweet basil and realized that, alas, it might not make it :( my roommate and I had to scurry last night to get all our plants in because there was a Freeze Warning out--i also had to dig up/pot two hibiscuses in the icy dark, and the aforementioned basil. The back yard hibiscus was about to blossom, so today it looks radiant and gorgeous...but the basil? Not so much. I think the dirt may not be aerated enough. Seems kinda clay-ey. In other news, I apparently got something of a marriage proposal today, resulting from a man's eating an espresso cake that i made for my roommate to take to work :) Yay Warren Brown and Cake Love! And...tonight...i am going to COOK! not bake. cook. a chicken/noodle/bell pepper/green olive etc recipe. this is a big step...both my roommate and my boyfriend need carbs for some races tomorrow! yay and good luck!! oh, and the sepia-toned picture is of this wonderful dutch idea: chocolate sprinkles on buttered toast. my nana sent me the sprinkles after a trip to holland...today i bought toast. toast it dark! delicious :)

Basil, please don't wilt away
And leave me to the fate
Of eating bland spaghetti--oh!
Please say it's not too late
For watering, for fertilizer,
Anything you need--
Just say the word, the world is yours,
Sweet Basil! Hear me plead,
Behold my tears, the horror of
Your most untimely loss.
Without you, I've just cooked tomatoes,
Not a sumptuous sauce. :( *

*the sad smiley is part of the poem, it's that dreadful :)

Sweet-Tooth Confessional

Today was a near-perfect day! Slept in, baked an espresso cake (different from a coffeecake...because it actually contains ground coffee! :) , went to the gym (muscles muscles here i come!), went to Doubleshot where I got to sit/chat with a friend and write the following poem, then Mod's Coffee and Crepes downtown for dinner, then HOME! for a nice quiet evening. Started a translated book called Black Rain by Japanese author Masuji Ibuse about the aftermath of the bombing of Hiroshima. Ran across it at Gardner's books and bought it because I've never read any literature on that, especially from a Japanese perspective. Quote from the back cover: "A novel based on real diaries and interviews with survivors of the bombing of Hiroshima, Black Rain probes deeply into the emotional significance of nuclear attack on ordinary people." Promises to be eye-opening/heart-breaking.
On a lighter note, today's poem:

Here's a vice I'd not confess
To anyone but you:
Sometimes, late at night, I eat
A piece of cake...or two.
I sneak across our shadowed hall
On silent, slippered feet--
I open up the kitchen door,
My heart begins to beat
Quite loud, it seems, but no one hears--
They're deep into their dreams--
And there's the cake! I cut a slice,
And top it with whipped cream.
Nightmares follow, I'm afraid,
Whene'er I pull this trick,
So sometimes I'm afraid the thought
Of cake might make me sick.
It hasn't yet, though, and my urge
For midnight pastry snacks,
Like letters to a callous love,
Predictably comes back.
It's strange, though: I'm convinced I'm not
The only one like me--
I think that this corrupted strain
Runs through my family.
Some nights we go to bed while one
Whole cake sits in the fridge,
But when the morning dawns, what's left?
Not even one small smidge.
And I--I swear!--have but consumed
A single piece...or two.
I hope they all confess their sins,
As I've confessed to you.

A Latte and a Green Star

Today, over coffee, i asked Daniel to give me a topic for my next poem. He cut out a small paper star with an exacto knife, colored it green, and gave it to me. :) Here's what was written:

Last night I discovered
To my very great surprise,
While looking through my telescope,
A wonder in the skies:
One star shone green, bright neon green,
Not yellow like the rest--
"That couldn't be a ball of flame!"
I mused with interest.
"What could it be composed of, then?
Lime jello, possibly,
That jiggles as it floats around
In zero-gravity.
Perhaps it is a giant frog
That eats the stars like flies--
And maybe planets, too, and we
Are all about to die!
I'll bet it has a tongue a million,
Billion miles long,
That could reach as just as easily
As I could sing a song!
Ugh, now I'm merely panicking!
Stop panicking, and think!
Just count to ten, take deeper breaths,
Go grab an ice-cold drink...
That's better. There's the star again...
Oh dear, I think it moved!
What if it IS a frog, and my
Hypothesis is proved--
Proved by our death! Too late for fame
Or scientific clout--
Oh dear, I feel like a baited,
Hooked, and helpless trout!
It's closer--yikes, it is a frog!
And naught can save us now!
It's HUGE! It leaps...off nothing...
And all I can say is...wow.
What's this? It's passed us by?
It isn't hungry after all!
I'm so relieved! It needs a name.
I think I'll call him Paul!"

Can't. Draw. Birds.

This is Trouble the Cat. Sitting regally (with an air of boredom) on a bed.
First order of business: http://blog.doubleshotcoffee.com/
Read the entry titled "Nekisse". You will want to buy this coffee. I want to buy this coffee. Superb writing, delicious coffee. Fantastic.
The two avians in the second picture are a Puddleduck and a Cuckoo from today's poem. That is the most identifiable version of them that i was able to draw. Somehow, i managed to capture the cuckoo's half-longsuffering, half-trepidatious quality! :) But I couldn't keep it up. So...use your imagination as you read this poem:

"Cuckoo, dear," said Puddleduck,
"I think it's time you knew
That swimming is the greatest thing
A bird could ever do!"
"But I'm not built like you!" frowned cuckoo,
"Darling, stop and think:
Your feet are webbed, you're born to float!
But I would surely sink!"
"Aw, you're just scared," sniffed Puddleduck,
"And talking like I'm dumb!"
She cried five tears, till Cuckoo sighed,
"Alright, I guess I'll come."
"Hooray! You won't be sorry! I'm
So happy I could burst!"
"Please don't. I couldn't take it if
This day got any worse."
They reached the pond and dipped their toes,
Then quickly drew them out--
"You're kidding, right?!" shrieked Cuckoo.
Puddleduck began to pout.
"Stupid winter! I forgot.
Well, isn't this just great?"
"Don't fret," said Cuckoo, brightening,
"I'd love to learn to skate!"
They waited for a couple days
Until the pond was ice,
Then skated to their heart's content,
"Oh yeah, this is the life!"

Quotes and a Rhyming Rant :)

So...i can't say no to fundraising schoolchildren. I have supported a basketball team, bought boy scout popcorn (where is it?!), and, as of a second ago, a bar of the "World's Finest Chocolate" (which it isn't...). I guess i figure that other people need my money as much as i do, which may or may not be true. for certain, i don't need the chocolate. sigh. Anyhow, here are a couple fun quotes from books i've been reading. The first is from "The Education of Little Tree" by Forrest Carter; the second, from "The All New Complete Book of Bicycling" by Eugene A. Sloane.

Little Tree and his grandfather are growing watermelons, with Little Tree waiting impatiently for them to ripen. He describes a few ways to test for ripeness in a watermelon. Here is one of them: "You have to know what you are doing to thump test a watermelon and make any sense out of it. If you thump it and it sounds like a--"think"--it is total green; if it sounds--"thank"--it is green but is coming on; if it goes--"thunk"-then you have got you a ripe watermelon. You have got two chances to one against you, as Granpa said is true in everything."

Talking of the burgeoning bicycle craze in the late 1800s: "The bicycle craze even alarmed businessmen in major cities for a while. They thought the bicycle would bring the nation to economic collapse, and there were a number of compelling statistics to bear them out...By 1896, the watch and jewelry business had fallen almost to zero, piano sales had been cut in half, and book sales had dropped disastrously. Apparently, no one stayed home and played the piano or read, and instead of buying jewelry, people bought bicycles."

And, in closing, an idealistic rant against working dead-end, hateful jobs :)

Flitter 'way a year or two
In travelling 'round the globe,
In learning to play bongos, or
To knit yourself a robe
Using the wool of your own lambs
And dyed with berries you have picked..
Just don't waste time to make a dime
On work that makes you sick!

Lose an hour here or there
By dreaming up a plot
Where good guys dress in tutus and
The bad guys dress in naught.
Or learn to trim an evergreen
Like Edward Scissorhands...
Just don't spend time to make a dime
On work that you can't stand!

Excuse me now, I have to learn
To draw a wildebeest.
Be wise, be ware, be penniless,
But be yourself, at least!

Fox Fears and Other Matters

Woo-hoo! Image-loader! Alright, the shirts. Woot.com sells a shirt-of-the-day, and when they get too many extra, they have a "random shirt" day--you pay them $6.99, and they send you a random shirt. So a couple weeks ago, Daniel and i were checking woot.com, and lo-and-behold! Random Shirt Day! We went for it. First time ever, for me. Waited impatiently and finally on Tuesday they arrived! we opened the package together, and my first reaction was, "oh my goodness what the heck is that?!" because my shirt, as seen in the picture, is a portrait of Admiral Ackbar (sp?) from The Last Starfighter...a movie i still haven't seen, although now at least i have heard about it. You can't tell from the picture, but he has his fingers caught in a Chinese Finger Trap, which has something to do with a line of his from the movie in which he frantically yells, "It's a trap!" That's all i know. :) but his ugly little face quickly grew on me and i am proud to wear him. The Really incredible part was part 2, Daniel's shirt. Which is a caustic pizza/chef growling, "do you want a piece of this?" Why so great? Because Tuesday happens to be...$5.00 pizza night at Joe Momma's! And we opened the package right before leaving, under agreement that we would wear whatever they'd delivered. so, a pizza shirt just in time for pizza night, how crazy is that?! :) and an adorable, confusable alien.
Today's poem is about a Fox with a million phobias that threaten to utterly cripple him and turn him into a recluse. my biggest fears are highways and being awkward in conversation (which inevitably leads to greater awkwardness) :) sometimes, it'd be easier not to leave the house...but thank goodness for city streets and 40 mph. :) His name is Fozzle. Here he is:

Tripping over tricky rocks,
Or muddying some brand-new socks
Were two fears that kept Fozzle Fox
Holed-up within his lair.

"A bit of sunlight might be nice,
But what if I run into...mice?!
Or catch a batch of fleas or lice?
Go out? I'd never dare!"

But Spring was in the laughing breeze
That tickled all the dancing trees.
He thought of birds, remembered bees,
And Fozzle Fox grew sad.

"What if what I fear up there,
Like mud and moss and matted hair,
Or being bullied by a bear
Is really not so bad?"

He fretted over this for days--
His heart said "aye", his mind said "nay!"
But suddenly, he could not stay
Inside a second more.

And so, he packed an extra pair
Of socks, and brushes for his hair,
Repellent 'gainst both bugs and bears--

And Fozzle faced his door....