It Had To Be The Comet

 

🌟🌲🌟

 

            Now, normally, as we all know, Ramona is the soul of competence. Like the sun, she is regular and dependable. Like the wife in the psalm she arises before dawn and lights that fire and starts her work. She attends to the needs of  her children, the cats, and most of all, to Ralph.
            Her temper is beyond smooth. Her laugh is sweet. She is called blessed.
            One morning, however, did not auger well. Poor Ramona!
            Her Bic lighter, one of the treasures of modern civ., ran out of fuel.
            The bail broke on her trusty large pot, dumping the oats and water she was going to cook into the coals of the last night’s fire. A bit of irritation tugged at the corners of her mind.
            Then when she was striding back to the cave to apply for assistance from Ralph himself, she stubbed her toe very firmly on a rock Twigg had rolled out of place at the fire circle.  Ramona didn't cuss. I’m not sure Forest Keepers cuss anyhow.  But she did cry a little.
            Ralph was still sleeping his monarchal sleep when she got to the bed. She sat down on the side examining her bloodied toe. It seemed like it might be broken.
            “I can’t cook, Ralph,” she said somewhat firmly. “And I have a busted toe.”
            He didn’t stir. She reached over and poked him in the ribs. She had never done this before.
            “Ralph, I can’t make breakfast,” louder.
            “What?  Why can’t you make breakfast?” He was awake at last, realizing that this was a serious matter.
            “My Bic is dead. The pot broken and I walked into a rock Twigg moved, I guess. Now my toe might be broken, and I can’t make breakfast!” Ramona reiterated.
            “Can you still walk?” said Ralph.
            “I think so,” said Ramona. “But my pot is broken, and I can’t make a fire!”
            Ralph sat up finally. “I have a Bic out by my log for cigars. I’ll go get it. Let me see the pot, if you can make it out there.”
            Leaving the children and the cats sleeping, they went outside to check on the pot and all. Ralph put the rock back into position. Then he discovered that the bail was not broken, it had just come loose, so he put it back into position also.
            Ramona limped back into the cave for another batch of oats and threw some raisins in for good measure with a little salt. Then she added water from a five gallon bucket of water she kept in the cave. Then she carried it back out to the fire circle.  Ralph had gone to fetch the other Bic, so she took a seat and waited for him as the sun came up and time stretched out some. It seemed to be taking him a long time to come back.

            So, then, while Ralph was rummaging in his collection of cool stuff in the shelter of his big cedar log, finally locating the red Bic lighter, he saw a flash of light and heard a loud popping sound. There was also a strong whiff of ozone in the general area.
            Well, when he looked up, Ralph couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Right on the back side of his log stood a Forest Brother twice his size. This fellow was very shaggy and had a sort of mossy color to his fur. He was bald on top and had a beard down to his belly.  The effect was striking, even for Ralph.
            The large Brother seemed to be equally amazed.  He looked all around as if  he had never seen trees before perhaps. He must have been frightened for his scent was hair raising, even for Ralph. It was like Durian and maybe skunk, with a lingering bit of ozone.
            “Howdy,” said Ralph.
            “Michinimayoimashita,” said the big guy. (I’m lost, in Japanese.)
            “Ah,” said Ralph, trying to think of what to do.
            “Why don’t you follow me back to the fire.  We’ll see how Ramona and the kids are, OK?”
            “Watashi wa anata ni shitagaimasu,” said the big green guy when Ralph started walking. (I’ll follow you, also in Japanese.)
            And he did follow Ralph, who was thinking as hard and fast as he could. He wasn’t sure how this visitation would go over with Ramona and her broken toe!
            Twigg and the puma bros had awakened and were out hanging around the cold dead fire circle with Ramona. Cherry was still asleep in the cave. It was quiet there, and they were all hungry waiting for Ralph to arrive with the lighter.
            However, when Ramona looked up and saw himself and someone else returning, she managed to say, “now what, Ralph?” very firmly indeed, perhaps even a bit stridently. She was thinking, “how the heck am I going to feed him?” She stared open mouthed.
            Berry and Bob ran off into the trees, temporarily. Twigg thought of following them, but decided to go hide in the cave instead, at the last instant. Cherry woke and started crying.
            Twigg went in under the bed. He had left the door open though, so Cherry floated out looking for her mother. Sizing up the scene she beheld, she yelled even louder and floated back into the cave, pulling the door shut behind herself. She got under the big quilt Thaga had given Ralph and Ramona and stayed there.
            “I found this guy out by my log,” said Ralph. “I can’t understand a thing he says.”
            “Kon'nichiwa, josei,” said Keiishi, since that was his name, even though none of them knew it. (hello lady, in Japanese.)
            “I see what you mean,” said Ramona, smiling weakly at the big guy, hoping that he was tame.
            At that very moment, there was a brilliant purplish flash of light. Keiishi wavered for a moment, looking as translucent as green glass, then he vanished. There was a sound like a thunder clap right near the ground where they stood. Only the scent of Durian, skunk and ozone remained to suggest that he had ever been there.  He was like, gone.
            “What in the world was that all about,” said Ramona, wonderingly.
            “I blame the comet,” said Ralph. “But look, baby, I found the red Bic! Now you can make breakfast!”

A Couple of Thoughts For Monday

 

💐🤍💐

    I ran out of time Sunday, but I wanted to take a minute to think about the word "praise."

    It seems to me that to praise someone or something is to speak of their value and attributes.

    I had been thinking about what it means to praise God.  How do we do that?  I am not churched, so I don't know the official teachings on any of this. 

    What I finally came up with is to verbally acknowledge the attributes, the character, acts, and nature of God. 

    I see it as an answer. We would be answering his loving invitation. Praise would become a person's side in a relationship.

    What do you think?  Does that seem accurate?

    praise (v.)

c. 1300, preisen, "to express admiration of, commend, adulate, flatter" (someone or something), from Old French preisier, variant of prisier "to praise, value," from Late Latin preciare, earlier pretiare "to price, value, prize," from Latin pretium "reward, prize, value, worth," from PIE *pret-yo-, suffixed form of *pret-, extended form of root *per- (5) "to traffic in, to sell."

Specifically with God as an object from late 14c. Related: Praised; praising. It replaced Old English lof, hreþ.

The earliest sense in English was the classical one, "to assess, set a price or value on" (mid-13c.); also "to prize, hold in high esteem" (late 13c.). Now a verb in most Germanic languages (German preis, Danish pris, etc.), but only in English is it differentiated in form from its doublets price (q.v.) and prize, which represent variants of the French word with the vowel leveled but are closer in sense to the Latin originals.

The Cats Puzzle It Out

 

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        One very warm and sunny day Sammie and Toots were at their posts keeping a sharp eye open for trespassers and other riffraff. Their window gave them a good open view. But the trouble brewing was inside, not out there on the landscape.
        “Hey,” Toots said, “I hear a strange buzzing sound in my ears. Do you have a strange buzzing sound in your ears, sister?”
        “Now that you mention it, sister, I thought maybe I was imagining it,” said Sammie. “But it’s loud.”
        “I’ve been having strange dreams too,” said Toots.
Sammie laughed. “Stranger than the one with the big black bird named Maeve?”
        “I feel like everything has just slipped somehow. I can’t quite get my paw on it,” said Toots.
            “You hid from the hairbrush, sister. What in the world?” said Sammie.
        “He sneezed! It sounded like a crack in the world, Sammie! I was afraid for my life!”
        “Maybe you should get with that other jumpy cat you like to commune with, see if she knows anything. Maybe Suzy is having funny dreams and buzzing ears too, and maybe she has heard something,” said Sammie.
        So, Toots put her head down and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the buzzing in her ears. She sent out an inquiry as well as she could.

        “Suzy, are you there?” purred Toots.
        “I’m here, Toots. Same place I always am, though I almost slipped out today,” said Suzy regretfully. “How are you? Anything special to report?”
        “Me and Sammie were wondering if you had anything funny going on. Is today normal or not, at your house?”
        “Prrt! Hm. Funny you should ask. I am having trouble with my tail. It won’t mind me. Even when I am asleep, it keeps whipping back and forth. It’s embarrassing,” said Suzy. “And that’s not all, I hear a sound. It’s like an electric bell in my head.”
        “Now MY tail is starting up!” yelped Toots in alarm, but she didn’t run away.
        “I wondered if you had been dreaming about the sun,” asked Toots. “I keep dreaming that something like a ball of light with a tail is pulling on the sun. Does that make any sense to you? Every time I have that dream, I wake up all scared and I feel like hiding forever!”
        “Yes, but a different dream. I dreamed that the sun tried to reach down here with big long fiery arms!” said Suzy. “Then my tail started lashing around. All I could think about was running away!
        “Willie has lost his appetite! That might be the scariest thing of all! If only you knew. Willie being hungry is one of the eternal verities of life. Or it was. Now I don’t know what to think. I try to avoid him. He’s cranky.”
        “Poor Willie, Suzy. Imagine how he must feel! Lol! It’s probably scary to him also! It’s funny too!” said Toots.
        “What do you think we should do?” Suzy sent out to both Sammie and Toots.
        “I think we should purr on this together,” they both said at once.
        “This might be affecting the whole world, sisters,” said Suzy with her eyes wide open, ready to bolt. “We better call all the cats we can think of! Or, better, all the cats in the world!”
        So, while the world rolled on, with no one giving a thought to the cats of the world and their cosmic concerns, these same cats took on a situation in their own way, out a sense of responsibility. 

        All over earth cats who had been feeling just a bit off, or a lot, off, heard the call from Toots, Sammie and Suzy in America. Almost all of them, rich or poor, fat or thin, fancy or plain, agreed on a mighty world-wide purr.
        So, though it was various hours of daytime in America and evening or night in other parts of the world, it didn’t matter about the time. Cats operate on a 24 hour clock anyhow.
        All the kitties, who heeded the call, all over the world, put their heads down, wrapped their tails tightly around their feet and closed their eyes in purr. All asked the same questions in purr.
        And the great All Knowing, lent them a little bit of knowing, all of them at once.
        They began to understand a little bit about Signs in the Heavens. How the sun being perturbed by another body could affect them all in various odd ways. They began to know that even people felt it sometimes.
        Then they were given the strength to sing within their hearts. And sing they did. All the kitty-hearts sang in harmonious peace and praise of the All Knowing. The All Knowing heard them. Their alarm passed and they knew that all would be well. And it was well.
        “You know what, Suzy,” said Toots, “I don’t remember what I was so worried about. Do you?”
        “Not for sure,” said Suzy. “I’m very sleepy now. Let’s talk tomorrow, Toots!”
        “OK, now I’m sleepy too,” said Toots.
        So they both took a nice nap.

!Meow!

Right In My Wheelhouse

 

1878 Oyster Gatherers of Cancale, John Singer-Sargent

  John M’s photographs of the art show he participated in got me to thinking about art as I have known it, and what I believe to be true about making and assessing art pieces.

It also makes me think of Tom Petty’s song For Real. I’ll try to explain why it reminds me of that song. In the song Tom says he couldn’t help it, he had to do it, he was compelled. Not in those words. He was serious about his music and lyrics. He wasn’t kidding around, trying to crank out product. He was trying to touch the people emotionally and for real.

I think there might be two major groups of “artists.” Some of them I have met took art classes because they thought art sounded “easy” and that it might be a good way to turn out some paintings or something and make a few bucks or gain some notoriety or fame. You can see this stuff all over the world. It looks like it was “easy” and it’s boring because there is no application, no thought, it’s a fake.

Good art is hard. It might look easy in a way. Maybe the brushstrokes are loose and fluid. But by God those brushstrokes, those fluid brushstrokes have been earned by years of doing it wrong and then better and better, over and over until they are right. Think of Singer-Sargent.

It takes tears sometimes.

The trouble is, there are sliding scales. That’s why at the infamous occasion when I was asked a question in class I said, “it’s all relative.” It’s hard to explain taste, is it not?

The question of what is good art is subjective as hell. It depends on who is looking. But I think that if the observer is also a serious person they will respond to good work in a way that they will not to stuff that kind of looks like art, but is weak and derivative. It’s like “hey I saw a guy do this or that, I can do that too!” No ideas or thought of their own. Design is not a game!

When I was very young and very judgmental, I used to laugh at paintings in county fair displays and such. You know the stuff. Naive and clunky flower paintings or dog pictures or stiff and awkward landscapes.

I’m sorry now. It’s a good thing no one paid any attention to the rude girl at the show. I learned to shut up and let them alone. It was not good art, but it was OK that the people painted their paintings and were pleased with them. Taste isn’t the highest virtue on earth. Maybe kindness is more important.

So, where do I land at the end of this little observation?

I guess it depends on what the artist’s goals are. It depends on their heart too.

One painter, or sculptor, takes it as a serious avocation, another is just having fun maybe and that’s alright too.

But sometimes people are pretending to take it seriously and they are just cranking it out. It’s not easy like that. Maybe they should be laughed at instead of the little old ladies at the county fair!

A Tale Told By A Raven

 

          One night Suzy had a powerful dream. It left her feeling a little bemused and confused. She felt like sharing it with someone, but for some reason didn’t feel like explaining it to Willie. He had a male tendency to poopoo certain types of material.

            She would have told it to her lady, but there were translation problems. No matter how earnestly she looked into her lady's eyes, it came through garbled every time.
            She decided that Toots would probably listen. Toots had never let her down and was wise in the interpretation of dreams.
            Therefore, she settled herself down in a good position for the telling of tales way down under some stuff, where nobody would notice her. It was better for intense concentration when nobody was watching.
            She said, “Toots? Are you there? I had a strange dream. Would you like to talk this morning?”
            “Sure,” said Toots. “What’s up? You want to tell me a dream? I’d love that!”
            “It was like this,” said Suzy. A great huge black bird spoke to me, as real as I am talking to you right now Toots!”

*O*

            I was flying very high. I was enjoying the air currents lifting me and then letting me fall lower and then lifting me back up again. I was so high that even I with my sharp eyes couldn’t see anything but the tops of the fir trees. There was a light dusting of snow on them which made them very pretty in the late morning sunlight.
            I decided to drop down through the trees to Ralph’s spot on earth, where time doesn’t have much purchase, just to see if anyone was around and what they were doing this day.
            As I got low enough, I saw that Ramona had been preparing to cook something. She had gone back into the cave to fetch something else I suppose and had left a lot of onions, carrots, and a big piece of pork and this and that on one of those logs by her fire. I couldn’t see anyone around at all.
            But as I watched a wild pig with ten little striped oinkers ran into the clearing! It didn’t look good! They discovered her onions, etc, etc, and gobbled it all down! Oh my! Oh no! I was the only one who had seen the crime and I would have to be the one to tell the tale.
            I dropped down and settled on a lower branch to wait for Ramona to come back out.
            When she did, she just stood there looking all around, obviously wondering what had happened to her ingredients in such a short span of time. Well, I knew.
            “What in the world?” said Ramona to the air, or no one in particular.
I spoke. “I know. I saw it all! I know the crime and the criminals!”
            “Oh, Maeve. Tell me Raven. How could my onions and carrots and meat vanish in two shakes?” asked Ramona, with her eyebrows raised. “I was gone about long enough to turn around and come out with my big pot!” She stood there with her hands on her hips, as angry women do.
            “It was pigs Ramona! A dam and ten little squealers! They washed through like a wave on the sea and consumed it all in a moment! I saw them truly.” I did love being in the know.
            “Well! We’ve never been visited by pigs before,” said Ramona. “I wonder what to do now!”
            “I can think of one thing,” I said. “And only one thing. I will go tell Thaga and Ooog what happened and ask them to send you some more onions and carrots. Then Twigg and Berry and Bob could take a bag and go fetch them for you. How about that?”
            “I think that would be alright. He surely knows the way to Thaga’s house,” said Ramona. “But we’ve never let him go alone before. I’m not sure I should let him go.”
            At that very moment Ralph himself strode into the clearing. He had been hunting far and away.
            “I didn’t have a whole lot of success, Mona my sweet,” said Ralph, laughing a bit.
            So, I flew to his shoulder and told him the whole story right into his ear.
            Ramona said she didn’t know whether she should send Twigg and the bros to Thaga’s house for more onions and so forth since he had never gone there alone, even with the cats.
            At last Ralph said, “let’s do this. Maeve can you fly over to Thaga and Ooog’s place and ask them for a bag of onions and carrots to replace the lost ones? Tell them that Twigg and the cats will be walking right after you. It will be a good experience for Twigg. Maybe he can do it all the time and save some of us some steps!”
            “I’ll go,” I said, and took off.

*O*

            “Suzy, why did Ralph laugh about not very much success hunting? You didn’t tell me that part of the dream and I was wondering,” said Toots.
            “It was kind of funny. I got the feeling that stories about Ralph often end up funny,” returned Suzy.
            “How was it funny,” asked Toots.
            “Well, as it turns out, in the dream, he only got four little striped piglets in his whole day of hunting, piglets that were full of Ramona’s onions and carrots. So, in an odd way, the story comes around full circle,” said Suzy finally.

            “What a peculiar dream, Suzy,” said Toots. “I wonder if it is true?”
            “I think it must be. I don’t think that big black bird would lie to me,” said Suzy. “She said her name was Maeve.”
            “I never heard of a Maeve before,” Toots smiled a little at the funny name.
            They purred together for a while, then went on with their days.

Just A Thursday Greeting

              Suzy said that she would like you to know that everything is okay.  She's been checking and she's pretty sure.

             Toots agrees.  Things look pretty good to her also.  Sammie approves this message too.

             Willie didn't say anything, but he's smiling.

This Thursday has great potential!

             All the best to you all today! 

🍒🤍🌸

 

Tom, The Annoying Pupdog Etc Etc

 

The Annoying Pup, Tom, and some movie star or something.

🥎🤍🦴

          “Well, he’s not green, but he’s still a dog Toots.  And they let him come inside the house!”
          Toots shuddered delicately, and shook her head, thankful that no such outrage happened at her house.
          “You know when I see that big old rubbery black nose snuffling all over the floor looking for any crumb he might be able to gobble up, I wonder if he is completely devoid of normal mental faculties!” observed Suzy with some heat.
          “I’ve seen some nasty creatures too, Suzy, but they were outside the screen that protects us!” Her voice deepened into a storytelling growl.
          “Oooo, tell me!” Suzy zinged back quickly.
          “Shall we start with the least offensive Suzy?  That would be that scrofulous sulfur colored he-cat. He is easily sent packing!  I scream until he leaves.  Simple.”
          “Is he in love Toots?” giggled Suzy.
          “I can’t imagine what you are talking about Miss Suzy! I am not in the mood for love, unlike in the song.
          “Deer are not offensive, but they are interlopers and require to be sent packing. So I do my duty and scream at them until they shove off too,” said Toots in a business like manner. “And they are hopelessly stupid.”
          “I’ve seen and smelled skunks. There have been foxes, sly slithery dog-like things always looking for something to kill and eat. Well, I know we would do that too if we had to, but we don’t have to, do we?” said Toots.
          “Tom, this pup, is hopelessly dim too.  I’ve never seen such a restless living creature.  He can’t hold still. He moves constantly. From where I watch well out of his reach, his motion makes me seasick.
          “We cats know what to do when we’re not doing anything!  We don’t just bumble around mindlessly! We sleep, obviously,” mewed Suzy. “Surely anybody knows to do that? It only makes sense!”
          “It’s funny in a way, Suzy, your monster comes inside your house once in a while, but the things I monitor are outside, illusive, hard to comprehend or even see very clearly,” sent Toots. “There is just a kind of electric buzz, and then I know something is out there. I’m not sure if I hear it or feel it.”

          “But I think I know who it is that walks the hill country at night. Some of those owl calls can’t be owl calls, you know? Too loud, half a note off even sometimes. I’m not even sure of some of those fox yips, and even dog yelps. There is something going on out there, and I mean to understand it some day,” thought Toots.
          “Oh, we have those too, dear. Once the people have mostly gone to bed in town and the streets are silent, they come across the bridge from the east or from the north sometimes.  I don’t know what they are looking for,” said Suzy, “but we have to keep watching! Always keep watching!” agreed Suzy.

   End of transmission.