bluemooncat enormous thing  3. write a story in 6 sentences

Big sister encouraged wild sock dancing around the living room which little sister was only too glad to follow as she followed everything.  Music or not: spinning, spinning, spinning.  Little sister crashed forehead into the corner of coffee table: blood everywhere, crying little sister, guilty big sister, panicked parents.  First emergency room visit (of many) for that one- involved stitches, a little red striped bear, a permanent reminder of the dangers of dancing around furniture, a Christmas hat, and a lesson not so much learned.  Pediatrician said that biggest danger to a little sister is a big sister.  No lie.

See the scar on the forehead?  Dancing is dangerous.  Littleloudone. In case you were wondering, strangely silent and unusually well-groomed.  Does she look innocent?  I didn’t think so.

 

there is something in the water this week. 

flexibility is a four letter word.

pre-teen girls should be caged.  and muzzled.

i’ve developed a disturbing twitch.

my happy place is out of reach, except for random moments.

anything you can buy at a beer distributor place should count as beer.

friday.  how do i love thee, friday.

naturally, when i put away the winter coats and sweaters, we have a snow forecast.

i threw something today.  and it wasn’t just a fit.

will you come see me thursdays and saturdays?

i got a poetry book in the mail today. i read a poem to my girl people and they both wanted to poke their eyes out.  i know spouseman doesn’t care much for poetry either- he barely tolerates mine. perhaps this means that no one will bother my book.  it even has a ribbon book mark thing.  is pretty.

i wonder if i speak my native tongue.

i’m staying up too late tonight, so i’ll remember my dream, so i can analyze it at this cool dream analyzing website.  because it’s a new toy.  i like new toys.

teenage girls aren’t any more tolerable than pre-teens.  for the record.

it’s a loud world. and i wouldn’t want to paint it.

the next person who rolls their eyes at me…

have i mentioned it’s friday almost.

this song makes me calm.

Yesterday my bad attitude and I were helping to clean up the art studio where I teach some summer camps.  My bad attitude was more involved than I was.  It’s not necessarily that I wasn’t getting paid to reorganize a place when the place I live is a disaster.  It’s not necessarily that I’m only teaching 3 camps this year (my choice, well, my schedule) and I’ve spent most of the past two summers working in the disorganized mess that it was.  It’s not necessarily even that I have gobs of things to do and if I’m not getting paid to do something, it should be something fun.  It’s all of these things and maybe one or two other things that I haven’t even thought of.  Anyhow.  There was my bad attitude. 

Imagine how annoying it was to hear a convoy of sirens as ambulances and possibly all the police cars in the area sped through the main street of that quiet little town. This morning I found out what the sirens were all about.  A 50 year old man, apparently newly married, pillar of the community (I didn’t know him) was on his roof taking down the freaking Christmas lights and fell off.  He died.

This morning I was also thinking about somebody else who died way before her time.  Turns out I wasn’t just connecting her to that man, today is the first anniversary of either her death or her funeral.  She wasn’t even 40 years old and left behind two young sons.  She was the gym teacher at spawn’s middle school.  My daughter adored her.  Everyone adored her.  She was that kind of person.  She died of a heart attack exercising on the tread mill. 

I also got an email announcement from an older woman I like very much.  Her husband, a very sweet man, recently died of complications from open heart surgery.  Her email was heart-breaking.  She obviously hadn’t expected to say goodbye to him.  So now I have a visitation to attend this weekend.

Life is fleeting.  Makes me feel pretty ridiculous that I’m cranky because I have too much to do.

bluemooncat enormous thing 38 poem using: keys, ear, barbed wire, hook, cotton, selfless, wing

 

countenance covered in barbed wire.

weekend gone in a millisecond.

calendar filled with the scribbles

of too much-

constant busyness.

trappings of medium-sized beasts in my ear.

beasts who will become more beastly

from staying up too late.

me too.

I want to play, write, discuss

with the grown-ups.

selfless vs selfish, I know which is truth-

I live the truth on that score.

I took the keys and ran away,

but then I came back

to the reality of nagging and mess

and clipped wings

instead of the freedom

of laughter and homemade wine.

hung on a hook on the wall,

feet dangling.

cotton stuffed in my mouth

to keep from screaming.

 

I made the truly horrendous decision to look at the calendar.  I didn’t know what day it was.  Now I do.  It’s not pretty.  The next few weeks.  I’m a little cranky about it.  I’m really good at doing nothing or as close to nothing as possible.  I’m not good at being busy- even when the stuff is fun, which most of it is.

So.  Perky is history for a little while.  I enjoyed her while she was around.

seven thousand six hundred seventy days.

matching rings, bonded hearts.

billions of conversations, some even uninterrupted.

millions of sweet kisses, magical moments.

innumerable harsh words forgiven instantly-

maybe not instantly, but forgiven.

hand holding just because.

sometimes nothing

but stronger together.

an infinity of endearments and eye rolls

and laughter and tears and dreams.

two beautiful girls sharing the best and worst of both.

seven thousand six hundred seventy days-

forever. but not long enough.


bluemooncat enormous thing, but hardly the most important reason. 

bluemooncat enormous thing.  pretty much micro story using the following words: sonata, cork, algae, ribbons, bone, sober, Year of the Dragon

 

He was born in the Year of the Dragon, had been far around the block, down the road and back, to infinity and beyond, and found himself in a space and time that suited him just fine.  A little more solitary maybe than he’d planned in his youth.  His workaday life a little different than the path he’d chosen.  Nonetheless, a life that was what it was and more than enough of everything good most days.

This day was one of those days.  He found himself sitting by the lake, ribbons of algae hiding plentiful fish, cat-n-nine tails dividing the bull from the frog.  Sun setting gently in front of him, cascading pinks and oranges, as he contemplated just how sober he needed to be. 

In his mind, a sunny, dark-haired, green-eyed girl played a sonata by Mozart.  Her fingers flying over the piano keys, the same sure, sweet way that she’d played him long ago.  He closed his eyes letting the memories float in his mind like cork on the lake. 

His eyes still closed, he could feel her in his bones, could feel her thinking about him.  Felt her so close that he could almost smell her skin, could almost sense her breath against his face. Stronger than a memory, his lips were pressed against softness more now than then.

for @vexations

Today Is Very Boring

Today is very boring,

it’s a very boring day,

there is nothing much to look at,

there is nothing much to say,

there’s a peacock on my sneakers,

there’s a penquin on my head,

there’s a dormouse on my doorstep,

I am going back to bed.

 

Today is very boring,

it is boring through and through,

there is absoltuely nothing

that I think I want to do,

I see giants riding rhinos,

and an ogre with a sword,

there’s a dragon blowing smoke rings,

I am positively bored.

 

Today is very boring,

I can hardly help but yawn,

there’s a flying saucer landing

in the middle of my lawn,

a volcano just erupted

less than half a mile away,

and I think I felt an earthquake,

it’s a very boring day.

 

1. I learned the Turkish word for dog.  She taught me cat, mom, and goodbye, but those I don’t remember. (since it was 10 hours ago and I am memory challenged.)

2. I learned that I can roll r’s and l’s.  It was quite entertaining to do the l’s.  There were some people laughing at me. (related to the Turkish lesson.)

3. I learned that maybe my ambivalence toward history in school might be a hindrance.  It’s my 3rd grade teacher’s fault.  But I might see if i can do something about it.

4. I learned that I will put off something that I don’t want to do until the very last minute.  Ok.  I already knew that.

5. I learned that Steve Martin plays the banjo.

6. I learned the ultimate punchline to any joke.

7. I learned that the perfect daughter of my perfect friend (and I’m not even being sarcastic here) got a tattoo.  I think it’s the influence of her native Canada.  Also. I’m jealous.

8. I learned that I’ve been replaced in LLO’s heart.  She called me by her teacher’s name.

9. I learned that “quitch” is a real word.  No idea what it means.

10. I learned that every darn thing in the universe is connected.

11. I learned that I shouldn’t get anywhere near Pinterest.

12. I learned that I didn’t really learn all that much today. 

What a sad commentary.  However, I didn’t play in traffic.  I didn’t make any stupid driving mistakes.  I didn’t use inappropriate language at school.  I didn’t say anything colossally stupid (that I’m aware of.)  I’m working on some fun weekend plans that involve a babysitter.  I still haven’t stopped smiling like a fool.  Something I started on Saturday morning and it just keeps going.  Like the energizer bunny.  Perhaps it’s the silly grin that is keeping me from learning more stuff.  Maybe it’s ok.

 

I was just having a micro conversation about how my Xanga people have infiltrated my real life.  Really, it’s true.  In a good way. And I don’t just mean that I’m constantly here to the point that I get nothing else done.  I’m a professional time-waster, I don’t need you for that.

I’m not going to mention any names or stuff here, because that has potential to be totally creepy.  But you cross my mind sometimes.  I’ve even had a couple of you enter the dream zone (which was decidedly odd, I admit.)  And sometimes I change the way I think because of something you’ve said.  Or I change the way I look at something because of something you’ve shown me.

I swear it- before you, I didn’t write poetry.  Now, whether I should or not, I love to write poetry.

Before you, I wouldn’t have dreamed of sketching or sharing art.  And here is this thing I did yesterday afternoon when I was supposed to be reading.

Before you, photography was people doing stuff and me staying the heck away from a camera.  Again, yesterday I saw this and thought of your nature shots.  I thought of how you’ve taught me to see beauty in the every day.  Although it’s not all that hard to see beauty in a blue sky.

And then there are the details.  You’ve taught me to focus on the small to be a part of the big. (You’ll notice that I need to figure out how to make the camera focus on the small.)

I’ve cried reading some of your poems or stories.  I’ve laughed, alot.  I’ve sung with your song choices.  I’ve been the places you’ve described.  I’ve felt your loneliness and your happiness. I’ve thought about things you’ve said.  I’ve been awestruck by your art.  I’ve looked at something you’ve done or said and immediately sighed in contentment or commiseration. 

You’ve listened to me when I’m aggravated and made me feel better.  You’ve made me smile.  You’ve made me brave.  And even when I’m mean or spacey or nonsensical, you listen and tell me it’s ok.

That’s what you people have done.  Thanks.

 

A few night’s ago I had a very strange dream.  I know it was a dream because spouseman was wearing flannel Christmas boxers and who would do that in March.  In the dream, spouseman sprang out of bed, “waking” me up saying something about imagining a mouse on the bed.  Then there’s all these squeaking and more growling than could come out of a kitten and skittering and just general mayhem that happens when a kitten is chasing a mouse.  So spouseman decided that indeed there had been a mouse on the bed (and it is surely a good thing that I did feel this mouse or there would be dead bats for miles.)  Microninjapsychokitten is in hot pursuit of the mouse.  But really she’s just playing or she stinks at this activity because she did not actually catch the mouse.  Then I saw spouseman, arms crossed, legs akimbo, sporting the aforementioned flannel Christmas boxers and a ‘tude as he proclaims, “Can we get some more experienced help in here please!”  Not a question in spite of the can.  As if she was waiting for permission, Princess Buttercup (the one who spends all her time outside because we are just too freaking much for her- also the one who is the furry bodyguard on my late night saunters) strolls in,all nonchalant.  Five seconds later, mouse claimed, she walks over to the front door, waits for spouseman to open it, and takes her prize out into the night.  Like they have this system.

Next morning, microninjapsycholousymouserkitten finds the prize, reclaims it and brings it back in the house. I do not think so, cat.  Oh. Yes, apparently some people would wear flannel Christmas boxers in March.  Surreal, I know.

I bring this up because the hunting party was in action again last night.  I’m sitting here at my computer, not writing- I forget what I was doing but it definitely didn’t have anything to do with putting words together- and there’s this crying outside the window.  I can’t even describe this sound.  Unpleasant, it was.  Because I’m curious (ok, really because it was bothering me), I go out to investigate.  Microninjapsychokitten is torturing a baby bunny.  This bunny had been placed on a board (what the heck is that board doing there anyhow) like the present that it was.  I never know who the present is for, but goodness it is fun to observe cat presents.  And the kitten is playing with it as it cried.  Ripped my heart out is what it did.  And because it’s not my job to take care of the presents, I woke up spouseman (who wasn’t wearing flannel Christmas boxers last night) and made him fix it. 

I’m angry with this kitten this morning.  I know that she is just behaving as nature made her, but the torture thing bugs me.  And I’m angry with the hunting squad (I’m assuming, probably correctly, that Pandora didn’t bring down the bunny), because bunnies are cute.  And I’m angry with myself a little bit too, because apparently I believe that one life is better than another.

 

I was looking for the song the girls wrote about the cat queen and found this story LLO wrote with an excerpt from the song at the end. This is Trampoline, number 1 girl cat, sweet, soft, loving, probably the bunny slayer.

Trampoline by Littleloudone Second Grade

Trampoline lives in Pennsylvania.  She lived in my back yard in an old groundhog hole.  Trampoline is a tortoiseshell cat. We made sure that she had food, water, and shelter. My family and I took Trampoline in the house. She loved our home.  So….. she moved in. She loves us.

 The End

Writer’s note:  This story is true.

Trampoline, great hunter of the wild.

Trampoline.  Bold and brave.

Trampoline, great hunter of the wild.

Trampoline.  Bold and brave.