A Silly Poem

Poems often stream from deep thoughts and embody lofty themes. This one started tickling it's way to life while I was drying my hair. I guess you could say it was conceived in the heat of the moment...but you probably wouldn't. 

My mom-in-law actually has a wicker chest of journals, and our birch tree does rain down lovely little golden stars at the first hint of fall. All other streaming thoughts...other than a weariness over the never-ending combat of candidates...are purely fictional, nonsensical, and serve no purpose but to please me while they dance and play. 

So there you have it. 

Silly's In The Air

Once when silliness reigned
in her heart and the sky 
as it rained dancing golden brown star-pointed leaves

None could wrest her from rest
as heart pounded in chest
subtle rhythm like cadence-born fingers on chest

Much like chest at her feet
full of journals of feats
and of hands that had lifted her spirits replete

So that here she remained
to hear all that remained 
of star dancing leaves and of silly reprieves

From the portent of all
such important things Fall
such as chill air and coming elections

Ha!

This tickled my ribs...but I am a bit of a numbskull...and I never metatarsal I didn't like...

I think you get the picture.

The Grateful Dead

Today on Facebook: “Heading out to dead head, but I don’t know a single song by the Grateful Dead. Guess I’ll have to wing it.”

It is odd that in all my years I can’t recall ever listening to a single song by these guys. I’m pretty sure that as a kid I was kind of freaked out by their name. 

The Grateful Dead. Creepy. What does that even mean? Would it be like Zombies at the Super Bowl? "Buffet!"

Apparently in the 60s my sis & I were too busy "hey, heyin'" with the Monkees. People said we monkeyed around. But we were too busy singin' to put anybody down.

Ok, fine. I'll get back to gardening now. 

"I went to a garden party 
to reminisce with my old friends..."

Love this...

ARE YOU HOT?

The mercury has been rising all summer long, but for some of us it's a personal summer any time of year...power surges, flashes of brilliance. Yes, time and outward youth march on, but does it mean we can't set the tempo and define our own ensuing...maturity? 


I propose a blog about menopause called...

I'M SO HOT!



Article ideas:

• Why did I come down here? 
• Back in a flash!
• Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin! 
• I'll huff & I'll puff, then I'll need to sit down
• Gone south for the winter, and...
• Why parts of me are not coming back
• Daydreams & Night Sweats
• My Biggest Fan
• Thermostat Wars
• Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep: and other fairy tales

I'll bet you can think of a few more! C'mon let's hear 'em!

What say you? Are you a fan? Post your ideas below!


Photos of my other fans:

I. M. Hot Pink

Fee Ling Blue











and 

Old Er Thandirt Gert

Googling

Today while I was busy googling at my grandson on Skype…and I do mean googling in the old-fashioned sense, i.e. making goofy gramma sounds with a silly face...saying nonsensical things in a high-pitched happy voice. You know…googling.

This is not to be confused with the ever-popular Internet search engine Google. That would be googling as in, “she spent the afternoon online googling aimlessly.” One cannot Google at someone…unless, I suppose, you’re having some sort of Google-off to see who can find the definition of “lunatic” or the location of the nearest mental health clinic the fastest. Though I can’t imagine why you’d need information like that…

But there are such things as googly eyes. Really! I googled it.

According to Wikipedia googly eyes (or jiggly eyes) are small plastic craft supplies used to imitate eyeballs. While another site lists the adjective googly-eyed as “having eyes that stick out ▪ a googly-eyed monster ▪ a googly-eyed frog or having eyes that are very open or staring because of amazement, admiration, etc. ▪ googly-eyed lovers ▪ googly-eyed fans.“ So I suppose one could be googly-eyed on Google…

…But where was I even going with this?

Oh yes...today while I was busy googling at my grandson on Skype, my eyes likely a bit bugged out in true amazement and admiration at his obvious adorableness (though they were decidedly my eyes and not the glued on plastic kind), my husband looked at me, started laughing, and - apparently imagining some hypothetical injury - randomly interjected,  

“What happened to you Ty?”

“Oh, Bernadette lost her marbles and I slipped on one.”

Once again, Ty for the win.

Anyone find that mental health number yet? 

A Fowl Story

True story: Last winter I ran across a Facebook post by my friend, and UPS driver, Mark Lopez: "With all the pheasants on 5 Mile Prairie I thought if I ever hit a bird it would be one of those. Today as I was blasting down Johannsen Rd... someone's CHICKEN flew out in front of me and WHAM!!!"

Partly true story: I was able to interview one of the chickens and wrote this brief news blurb...for no one in particular. Well, ok, I knew that Mark would laugh.






BROWN DOWNS WANDERING FOWL

A chicken ran afoul of a UPS truck on a stretch 

of Johannsen Road on the once mostly rural 

5 Mile Prairie. She has been identified as long-

time resident Hatty Henly and was pronounced 

decidedly dead at the scene.

Coop-mate, Fiona Feathers, recounts details of 

the accident (silly, high-pitched British accent), 

"We all told her not to do it. But she's always 

been a little flighty. So off she goes with nary a 

look to the right or the left. Next thing we know 

there's a blur of brown and a pitiful squawk and 

a thud! Crackers! She never saw what hit her! 

Poor thing!"

The investigation has shown that UPS driver, 

Mark Lopez, had no warning of her advance 

onto the roadway. She'd been partially hidden 

by brush before she made a break for the other 

side. Back at the coop friends and relatives are 

coping as well as can be expected. All still 

support free-range and hope that others will 

take instruction from this unfortunate incident. 

But the question still remains, "Why did the 
chicken cross the road?"

Are you stocking me?

English is confusing

Case in point: take the words “stalking” and “stocking.” Sound the same. Not interchangeable. Granted those with precise enunciation skills may differentiate them, but most Americans are notoriously lazy-lipped…which is probably fodder for another rant altogether. So unless one sees it spelled, one may be perplexed. Two may also be perplexed if you’re with a friend.

To say “I’m stalking you,” while somewhat creepy - unless it’s your fun Facebook friend who likes to “like” your comments or show up randomly at every coffee shop you frequent (big breath for the run-on sentence) – it should not be confused with “I’m stocking you.” “I’m stocking you” could mean one of two things. There are now several of you on my pantry shelf – creepy, or it’s Christmas and I’ve just hung you on the chimney with care – cumbersome, aaaannd also creepy.  

Don’t even get me started on stocking caps. How do I really know which word you mean?

“I’m buying a new stalking cap.”

“Niiice! Well, hey…I gotta go. Having some painful warts removed!”

And are nylon stalkings what happen to celebrity nylons?

Then there are celery stalks and corn stalks. You would never say corn stock. It doesn’t trade on the NASDAQ and, well, a lot of people don’t take much stock in corn…or celery. Though you might find them both in a stockpot.

Now an ear of corn is another matter entirely. But if corn really did have ears, how would you find them in all those kernels? And if a colonel has a hankering for corn, should you lend him an ear?

You see what I’m saying?