Browsing Archives for July 2008

Long ago in the days of yore….

As pink and purple dusk woman shot magenta rays across the little water.

In the season of bone baking fire time…

Only the most skilled and brave men would be sent forth to load their sailing vessels with the sacred crop of algae.

So that the tribe could feed itself… and make clothes… and build the simple tent like structures…  woven from the sacred algae threads.

The hearty and brave men placed themselves in great peril to get the sacred algae, but they all loved to suffer so much that it was almost fun for them.

Deeper and deeper into the murky depths they ventured, carefully avoiding the snapping turtles and the water snakes…

Neighboring tribes had long ago abandoned the algae harvest.

They had begun to sprinkle the mystical powders and to use the magic enzymes to keep the algae from forming.

They had forgotten the ancient rhythms of olde.

And so the last lone tribesman worked on and on… as mother sun descended to her cave of night… and father moon rose to his lofty perch… the tribesman trusted to the wisdom of the song frogs to guide him.

Neck deep he continued… scooping algae…. loading algae…. 
He mused quietly that the more he scooped… the more there seemed to be. 

It was as if the algae muse was granting him a blessing of an unending algae tide.  
He drew the algae vapors into his nostrils and felt complete.

Night descended.  The tribe slept.  The algae drifted and multiplied and the tribesman drug his heavily laden boat up on the shore.  His shoes squished with the mud of his ancestors.   He dug his hand into his mountain of algae and raised it to the sky in triumph and felt vast relief knowing his tribe would eat, and be clothed and be sheltered for the algae harvest had been bountiful.  

Dripping water and mud he wandered back into his hut.

Tomorrow they would feast, and weave and build.

But tonight he must rest.   
He shut his eyes and slept the sleep of the deeply satisfied.
Contest one post down – ends tonight at 7PM CST

If ever there was a book that I wish I had written, it would have to be Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons.
Why this book of all the books in the world?


1. It is a parody.

2. It is hysterical.

3. It is sort of a protest book.

4. It is of course, set in England, which is just about all I really need in any book.

5. And yeah… written to make fun of tragic, sweeping, rural romances that end badly and then the heroine dies slowly in the freezing rain.

This type of Thomas Hardy fatalism was all the rage when Stella was a young journalist and she just had enough of it and was sick of reading books where no one had any control over their destinies and ended up with a hump back and a lung disease. So she wrote Cold Comfort Farm in protest and it became an overnight sensation…and she never went hungry again.

The only thing better than the book…

Is the movie.

I hope you have seen this movie.

Because I can’t really talk to you anymore until you go see it.

So I will wait…..

Okay, tired of waiting.

Just promise me if you haven’t ever seen it and you don’t win it in this contest, that you will go rent it as soon as you can.

So for this Summer Reading Program Give-Away I am offering two of the DVD’s and one copy of the book.

I know there is probably something wrong about offering two DVDs and only One Book in a Summer Reading Program, so you can send your complaints to me and I will promptly turn them over and use the backs as scratch pads.

Cold Comfort Farm is not only a hilarious movie it also features fabulous fashion from the 30′s. I really wish I could have lived in the 1930s. The clothes were so beautiful. The closest I ever got to 1930′s fashion was in the sixth grade when I had a pair of purple corduroy knickers.

Remember knickers?

Corduroy knickers?

I wore them with thick woolen socks and clogs. I also had a plaid wool skirt with a huge decorative safety pin that was supposed to very stylishly hold the skirt closed.

Remember the skirt pin fashion spasm?

I have memories of trying to play kickball during recess in the sixth grade in my clogs and my safety pinned skirt. Inevitably, I would kick off a clog when I kicked the ball, limp to first base and then get hit in the head by the ball and tagged out before I got to base.

And all the cool sixth grade girls would giggle and roll their eyes.

And the boys would laugh out loud.

Fun Times!

Woo Hoo!

Loved Sixth Grade!

This giveaway has come to an end.

Box O’ Crap

July 20th, 2008

On a recent trip back to my hometown, I was met at the door to my parent’s home by my sister April who was in frothy frenzy.  She was attempting to re-organize my parent’s entire house in a few short days!   She insisted that I help her.  

I didn’t want to help her.
I wanted to watch nineteen solid hours of HGTV!
Because I don’t have HGTV.
So I feel it is my duty to catch up when I am at the folks.
But April would not let me.
Before I arrived, April had already sorted through MY old bedroom closet.  She had a box.  A box of stuff that she had found in that closet that she thought I needed to have.
I did not want the stuff in the box.
I left it at home.  
A few weeks later, my mom came for a visit and she had the box of stuff that April had found in my closet.
And SHE LEFT it at my HOUSE!
The box has been sitting in the study for several weeks.
I was tempted to pitch the entire thing in the trash, but on Saturday I sat down and went through it
Here is what I found in that box o’ crap.
Old Dance Pictures….

Why could not the photographer have said… 
Uh Miss…  Miss… you might want to pat down your hair… your hair… it looks like you have two horns…. just give it little pat…. maybe run your fingers through it… here I have a comb…. and a mirror…  Go ahead fix it… There!  That’s better!  
But no…
Instead I have horns.  

I really loved this particular ballet costume.  
I thought it was very wispy and elegant and princess like.   
I remember thinking that in this photo, I wanted to appear serious.  I wanted to be pale and waif-like and fragile and somber.  I wanted to look like an oil painting.  I wanted to look like something out of a fairy tale.  
I don’t think people in fairy tales EVER have feathered hair.  
But I succeeded in looking somber.
And slightly pissed off.

Now here is a study in contrast.
Note the lace buttoned collar and the austere sweater vest and the ZIT which is set off so nicely…


This appears to be some sort of photography project where I was to write about what was wrong with the photos.  I have been taking bad pictures for a very long time.  This is a skill I was just born with.  You can’t learn it.  You either have it or your don’t! 
Now let me tell you what is wrong with these photos.  
What is wrong with the first photo is that April took a picture of me jumping off my parents’ well proving once and for all that  I AM A GIGANTIC DOOFUS.
What is wrong with the second picture is that my sister looks like she is dressed for an episode of WKRP Cincinnati.

My High school graduation tassel was in the box o’ crap.  I don’t know how I got through the past twenty years without it.

And THANK GOD my sister placed this precious artifact in that box!

I found the last will and testament from my entire graduating class.  I willed my talent to look good after a football game to my High school boyfriend.  
I must have been referring to the blue eyeliner.

I found this assignment from Home Economics.

I got a C.
How do you get a C on a wardrobe inventory?
It appears I was supposed to write something about my attitudes and values towards clothing. I don’t know why I missed that part of the assignment.  But I can tell you now that my attitude towards clothi

ng when I was in High School was that CLOTHES WERE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD.  

Can I have a better grade now?
Can I???

Then there was all this stuff.

and GEEAWWW…  all this stuff!!!!
And OH LORD this stuff!  
I am sorry to tell you this…
I was in a pageant once…
Yes, I was.  
It was hard times then.  
Small town…
Not much to do except stand around in corn fields and drink beer…
…and be in pageants. 
So I chose the pageant route.  
What is funny about this, is that as I was paging through the photos in the booklet, I was trying to remember which girl won…
I remembered which girl I wanted to win, but I knew she did not.  
I remember which girl I thought would win, but she didn’t win either.  
Then I found this picture…

I guess number 18 was the winner.

And judging from what I did to her mouth – I guess I was not too happy about it…

And this is my pink fluffy sister in a hoop skirt.
She is the one who made this box o’ crap possible.
Thank you April.
I am saving Donald Duck nightlight and the seashell just for you.