It Was A Birthday

 

An actual food co-op in real Milltown!

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“You know, Jen, every fable ends with a moral or a warning doesn’t it,” said Doug. “If we haven’t been living a fabulous tale, I don’t know who ever has.” He smiled at his wife.

“Ok, what’s the moral of this one,” asks Jen. With the one long dark braid down her back, she hardly looked any older than when they met in front of the old P-Sec store. It hadn’t been all that long. But it seemed that way to them. A lot had happened.

“I’m thinking.” He looks across the lawn at their very large garden. It was getting towards fall again. He thought to himself about the speed of time.

Gabriel had walked at ten months. This is not unheard of, but unusual, nonetheless.

In his crib at night, he had been seen to wave to and coo at small Lights as they formed and unformed like shiny bubbles. This was fabulous indeed. He was, in fact, an unusual child. He had no fear.

He would have followed OZ all over the yard and garden if Jen had allowed it. OZ would have cared for him, but she didn’t think it was wise to put it to the test anyhow.

Gabriel, or Gabe to his family, would be a year old that evening.

“Maybe we should have a little birthday party Doug,” said Jen. “You could send OZ into town to get Roops. I could make some kind of snacks and a cake, a plain one. Ellen would come, I bet, and maybe Henry too.”

“You could go down to the store for me and get some more butter and sugar. I have enough eggs and flour. Talk to Denise. See if anyone has some toys there. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone has been making toys. There are more babies every month around here.”

Doug stood up from the kitchen chair and stretched his long self. Fully stretched his hands touched the ceiling.

“Ok Jen, me and OZ will take a ride soon.” He wandered out of the house to find OZ.

From under the table Bubby said, “I’ll go too.” They didn’t have pets, but they had Bubby. He wasn’t exactly a pet. He was more like a consultant of some kind. He consulted with them whether they wanted it or not. He ate a lot of chicken in those days, thanks to Lou and her hen house. He had nothing to complain about. He had gotten rather chubby to tell the truth.

Lou came down the stairs with Gabriel. She had been bathing him in the tub up there. She spent a lot of time with him.

He probably walked early because Lou had walked him around holding his hands as he toddled.

“Hey Jen, guess what!” Lou was grinning. “Elvin said we should get married. What do you think about that?”

“I’d say it was about time,” said her sister, smiling. “I was beginning to wonder about you two slowpokes.” She wrapped her arms around Lou as she always had.

“Lou, we’re going to have a birthday party for Gab tonight. We have things to do! Cake and finger foods! I’m thinking deviled eggs for sure,” said Jen. There followed the necessary discussion and planning of such important matters.

“Why don’t you hop down to Ellen’s house and invite them? I’ll get Gabe to bed for his nap and start sweeping up around here,” Jen told Lou. “In fact why don’t you take Elvin too.”

*** 

Both Doug and OZ had bikes to ride in those days. OZ on his bike was quite a sight. He still wore his trusty Carhartts and rode with his double elbows pointing outward. He really looked like something from the Wizard of Oz. It was hard to say whether he more resembled the Tin Man or the Straw Man. Doug looked normal, if a little long and bony.

When they got to the highway OZ went on ahead to deliver his message to Roops and Doug headed down the asphalt to the remodeled store, now named the Novus Ordo Co-op. It was some of the Thumbies finest work. The store looked nothing like it had during the days of P-Sec. It was clean. It was full of produce, even flowers. Some people had started small dairies, so there were milk products, cheese and butter and even yogurt. All this was in returnable glass bottles.

All sorts of handmade items were stocked. Knitted items. Various kinds of clothing made at home by local people had been coming in lately. There was pottery. There was candy. People were having a lot of fun running the store. Even the parking lot was swept clean, and it had flowerpots here and there. There was a bike rack and places to tie up a horse and there was a drinking trough for any horses who came by with their riders.

Denise was the new manager. She had two young men and three girls working with her to keep it running smoothly. Items were paid for with the old day’s currency, which was highly prized, or barter. Some new methods of running accounts were being tried out also. Gold and silver coins, which had been popular before the crash, were used for large purchases by people whose parents had been wise enough to purchase some in the old days. Denise had her hands full figuring out how to manage all this.

She also had to manage all the vendors, but she had proved to be good at it.

Seeing her at her nice desk set in the front of the store up by the windows, Doug called out “hey Denise, I have a question for you.”

“Hi, Doug,” said Denise, “come on over. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’ll tell ya. Jen sent me for some butter and sugar, but I’m also supposed to see if anyone is selling toys for a one-year-old boy. Gabe is getting up there and today is his birthday! We’re throwing a little party for the guy tonight.”

“Ok, we have some stuffed bears and chickens back there. One guy is making wooden alphabet blocks too. Let’s go take a look!” Denise and Doug headed to the back of the store and went shopping. He picked out a good sturdy looking bear of a realistic brown color, made of knitted yarn, stuffed with wool and with nice bright button eyes. He had some old cash from his parents’ place in Arlington, so he paid for his purchases with that. He packed the sugar and butter and the bear into his trusty backpack and headed out over the river again to home in time for Jen to bake a cake.

*** 

OZ rode home soon after, having accomplished his mission. Roops said he would come of course. He would also bring his mom if she felt up to riding in the little wagon behind his big mountain bike.

Evening came. Roops brought his mom in the little wagon, all tucked in with pillows and a blanket. Mrs. Steele brought fudge and a little hat that she had been knitting for Gabe. Ellen and Henry walked over from their place. They brought a little xylophone that had belonged to their son when he was small.

The cake was presented to Gabe. It was iced with old style boiled icing tinted yellow with a bit of turmeric. There were no candles, but he didn’t miss them. He was quite excited by the cake, and the toys and the hat. His first personal possessions.

OZ walked around with his hands in his pockets mentioning the joyous configuration from time to time to various persons.

When the family and friends sang Happy Birthday OZ seemed astounded. The concept of a birthday was something that he had never considered. He buzzed and hummed to himself and took his kind of note of the matter.

Bubby recited “Who has seen the wind, etc” to everyone’s total amazement. He had a piece of cake for his efforts. He also liked the deviled eggs and the fudge.

The cake was a great success and there was coffee. Mrs. Steele had probably brought that too.

Elvin announced to general approval his and Lou’s engagement. Lou blushed and grinned at the floor. Elvin gave her a big showy smooch in front of everyone. There was laughter and clapping all around.

Gabe got sleepy and was put to bed. The McNamaras walked home. Roops and his mom were tucked in on a chair and sofa in the living room and the whole family settled in for the night. OZ sat quietly in his chair and Bubby went upstairs with Lou and Elvin, since there were two beds up there and they obviously needed a chaperone.

It had been a wonderful evening and Gabriel was launched into his second year. Fabulous indeed.

(Jen's cake wasn't nearly that fancy!)

Link to all of it...In the tenth year of the pandemonium.docx

Poetry Sunday! Thankfully None Of Mine!

 I thought, since I had quoted part of Eliot's poem about naming cats, to look up the whole thing.  So, here it is!  In effect, an open thread!

How did Ethyl come to be Ethyl? The decision is lost to time but  her full name was Methyl Ethyl Ketone.  She was adopted from the local shelter, without her toenails. Cats so altered often make adjustments to life.  One of those is a tendency to bite.  To tell the truth she was a bit of a biter. She was a genuine nut and we had her for over ten years.  She was no kitten when we got her.

Naming is a thing to take seriously!  It's a subject of its own.  If I had named her Linda would she still have been as strange?  I don't know.

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(˚ˎ 。7  

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じしˍ,)ノ

Meow?

The Naming of Cats

T. S. Eliot
1888 –
1965

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo, or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names,
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular name.

Shabbat Shalom

I kind of felt like entitling my thought for the day Children, Drunks and Fools.  These are the people generally considered to feel safe. This might be unwarranted, as many children do not feel safe, people drink because they are afraid sometimes, and fools, ah well, who knows what they are thinking.

It also strikes me that it is like the saying about Big Foot that I was a believer, but now I'm afraid it's real, rather humorously.

I guess we all knew it was not a safe planet.  Too many ways to get dead around here.  We have been considering what to think about the takeover of all of life by the Beast, oh I mean an overarching AI monstrosity. Today we found out about a secret lab in Fresno growing disease elements.  There are sure to be more of them. This on top of the ongoing Covid and vaccine hoax.  Then there are the hospital murders being revealed.  I could list other things. And so on.  You get it.  They want us gone. 

This is very dramatic and close and current and nasty! Has there ever been such a time before?  I know that people lived in fear in all times and places.  Who can assess which is worse? And, have we finally arrived at the true End Times?

The thing I have to do with myself is to grab myself by the ears figuratively and ask "what is all this God talk and rambling on about faith? Do you hear yourself?  Do you believe your own words?"

Our adversary has never stopped going around like a roaring lion.  He's still doing it.  Nothing new there. He wanted you dead at every step in your life. If he could he would have withered you to death in your mother's belly.  But, apparently Someone let you live. He let me live too, many times when I should not have.  

Life here on this planet is still not safe, but we do have the same assurances that we always had. It's a mystery to me how all of this fits together.  But I do believe in my bones that God prefers life.  May as well believe on the side of the good guys. If nothing else, it's good game strategy.

So I prescribe a good dose of scorn for the enemies of life.  Their pride will not save them when the sky splits open and the rolls are called.

So, Shabbat Shalom, in spite of them all.  Your Father knows every atom in your earthly body and every second of your life.  He knows and loves the real intangible eternal you. Rest there.

Please excuse me preaching. It's just what I am thinking about this Friday afternoon.

The Love Bug Days

 

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No, I'm not exactly talking about that fascinating species of March flies. Those are the little insects which partner up, male and female, and fly around in tandem, lazily doing their suicidal thing in orgiastic swarms along the Texas Gulf Coastal highways in early spring and late summer. Then I got to thinking, strangely and completely unrelated or not, that the period of time bookended by lovebug emergence and reemergence happened to coincide with the rise and fall of my first little elementary school love affair. (More about that in a minute.) 

Apparently lovebugs (the insect Plecia nearctica) are attracted to automobile exhaust that has been exposed to the ultraviolet radiation in sunlight, because it closely resembles the chemicals released by decaying vegetation, where the lady lovebug loves to lay her eggs. Carbon footprint. Go figure. At any rate, a lovebug's love can't withstand the force of a moving automobile, and their splattered little bodies can make an immediate mess of a freshly washed vehicle. I highly recommend everyone have the lovely experience of driving through a swarm of lovebugs at least once in their life. And here's a helpful hint: Have plenty of windshield washer fluid in the reservoir. You will be glad you did!

(Now on with the tale.)

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I'm sure every person has a story to tell about their first crush, infatuation, or love with a member of the opposite sex. This is mine, and we'd love to hear yours.

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I was a young kid in March, 1969, had just turned seven years old, and it seemed like my emotions were suddenly blossoming in sync with the world, and I was becoming alive, like a type of emergence was happening. I noticed things around me in new and exciting ways. Indeed, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was a cog in something turning. It was exactly as Joni Mitchell pondered in her song, "Well, maybe it is just the time of year, or maybe it's the time of man. I don't know who I am, but you know, life is for learning." One of the most wonderful things I noticed through my brand new eyes was Anne, the girl who lived across the street from me. And by golly, it was magical, because she noticed me, too!

Anne and I were already fast friends, since we lived in close proximity and were in the same class at the nearby elementary school. All of the kids on the block were like one big family of brothers and sisters who literally shared each other's parents, yards, and houses, and the freedom we experienced growing up there was palpable. Our block had a large drainage canal running through the middle of it and was bounded on one side by the ATSF railroad line running to Galveston, a section of woods on another side, and a large open tract of undeveloped land on yet another. The possibilities for fun and adventure were endless, and we roamed, ran, rode our bicycles, laughed, played, and pranked each other with abandon. No one hardly ever locked their doors and we came and went pretty much as we pleased. In spite of sometimes being used as punching bags and guinea pigs by the older kids, they always watched out for us younger ones and we looked up to, and tried to emulate, them. I suppose that's how we learned things about boys being boys and girls being girls.

I remember a particularly standout day that spring, an epic day of firsts, one which still echoes through me, and it was the day the love bug bit me and Anne. One Friday afternoon, a couple of the elementary school teachers had gathered us kids together in the library to play records and dance. Teachers get their kicks out of watching kids do stuff like that I guess, in addition to it giving them a break from actual teaching. Anyway, Anne and I were partners and she picked the song "Dizzy" for us to dance to. Our teacher, Mrs. S., placed the 45 on the phonograph, set the needle down, turned up the volume, and we danced... I mean we danced! The other kids took notice, some whispering and teasing commenced, and just like that Anne and I became an exclusive item.

Like those lovebugs, Anne and I had grown somewhat inseparable by the time the bell rang and school was dismissed that afternoon. Ahh, Friday! As we were heading out together to board the bus, we met Anne's older sister, Lynne, and some other kids from the neighborhood and they said, "We're walking; want to come?" Naturally we did, because it was much more fun and orders of magnitude cooler than riding a school bus. It meant a quick dash across the street, a short walk through an adjoining neighborhood and the woods to the railroad tracks, and then about a half-mile down the line to our own neighborhood. So off we went, while the other kids watched with longing from the confines of their buses, no doubt wishing they could be cool like us.

Anne and I walked along side by side, singing, "I'm so dizzy my head is spinning...." We had discovered that we just enjoyed being near each other. Then she told me that her and Lynne and some other kids were going to the movies that evening to see... wait for it... "The Love Bug," and she asked if I wanted to go along. Her mom would drop everyone at the theater and pick us up afterwards. How could I refuse? I would be with Anne, and seeing a movie about a sentient Volkswagen race car seemed like fun. Wow, me and my girl were going out on a date! It was just a small matter of clearing it with the folks. No biggie. My mind boggled as we glid along the trail. We had wings, and our feet no longer seemed to touch the ground.

By the time we emerged from the woods and reached the railroad, my hand had found Anne's and I helped her up the embankment to the tracks. Now we were on the last leg of our trek, being careful to avoid the little puddles and clumps of tar on the ties. Moms hated it when we got that stuff on our shoes and tracked it into their houses, so we usually made a contest of who could walk the farthest on the rails without falling off. Progress was slow, because as some boys are wont to do, we stopped often to throw rocks at the glass insulators on the telephone poles which lined the railroad right of way. Sometimes we'd manage a lucky throw and see a chunk of green glass splinter off and fly into the brush. (By the way, if you are ever in an antique store and find one of those insulators with a piece missing, now you know why!)

As we continued our march homeward, out of the blue our friend Mike, a fifth-grader and a couple years older than us, pulled something out of his sock and held it up. "Look what I have! I got it from my sister's purse last night," he announced, grinning like a thief. In his fingers was a crumpled, poorly rolled joint. There wasn't much to the thing, but it was the genuine article, and Mike also produced a book of matches from his sock and proceeded to fire it up. Much coughing and giggling ensued as we passed that sad little reefer around, each giving it a puff or two until it finally disintegrated and fell to the ground. I seriously doubt any of us got stoned, but you can never really tell for sure about these things. Hee, hee! The very idea of trying pot for the first time was a high in itself, and in the afternoon sunlight Anne's face suddenly glowed and began to look quite beautiful to me. Today we can all honestly say, unlike a certain former president, that we did inhale.

We reached Mike's house first and all slipped inside through the back door. His mom smoked cigarettes, so we figured that would mask any lingering odor we carried with us from the pot. Smart kids, huh? Mike's mom always had the best snacks, too, so it was Cokes and Oreos all around. No Kool-Aid and none of that home-baked stuff at Mike's house. We plopped down in the living room in front of the TV, Anne sitting next to me on the couch, and managed to catch the last few minutes of our favorite soap, "Dark Shadows," before we eventually drifted off to our own abodes.

My family had just finished supper and I was all cleaned up and ready for the big evening at the movies. Mom handed me $4 to add to whatever change I had in my pocket and told me to have a good time and to be a gentleman. I'm sure the details of the "date" had been discussed earlier between the mothers. Honk, honk! Anne's mom was ready to roll, so I ran across the street, jumped in the front seat of the station wagon next to Anne, and off we went. Lynne was in the backseat with her friends Debbie and Marla, and a couple of boys, David and Russell, who also lived down the street. Since it was a Friday night, there was a good line of people already at the theater waiting to buy tickets, but we got in shortly, managed to get some sodas, popcorn, and candy, and found our seats at the front before the film started rolling. It seems like a movie ticket then was around $1.50 and popcorn and candy around a quarter. I hardly remember anything about the movie, but I'll clearly never forget holding Anne's hand and snuggling up cheek to cheek with her while we laughed and watched the show. I wasn't quite brave enough to try putting my arm across her shoulders like I saw the older boys in the theater doing with their girls.

Lynne dropped a dime into the lobby pay phone and called to let her mom know the movie was over. While waiting for our ride, we milled around outside the theater on the sidewalk, talked with some other kids we met there from school, and peered into the neighboring store windows at the displays. It was a clear, warm night, and a not quite full moon floated high in the sky. My mind was on Anne, the way she looked, the way she smelled, the way she talked, and the way she made me feel being next to her. These were special feelings I had never experienced before, new emotions that put me on top of the world that night. Soon, Anne's mom pulled up to the curb and we all piled into the station wagon for the short ride home.

I was supposed to go straight home after the movie, but it wasn't terribly late yet, and Anne and I sat outside on her front porch glider and sipped Cokes. We talked about the day, dancing, songs, friends at school, walking home, the wild albino billy goat that supposedly lived in the woods, but no one ever saw, silly Mike and smoking the joint he had stolen from his big sister, the movie, what we were going to do tomorrow, like maybe ride our bikes over to the Dairyland drive-in for some ice cream or something. We looked up to the stars, gazed at the moon, and I had the urge right then to put my arm around her, so I just did it. Anne kind of looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes and smiled. Then our lips met in a gentle kiss, the type of tiny kiss one might expect between two seven-year-olds, but it was a kiss nonetheless. My first kiss and her first kiss—our kiss—a timeless yet once in a lifetime, one of a kind special moment we will forever share.

I slept very little that night and could think only of being with Anne. The remainder of the school year and summer vacation were packed with fun and punctuated with hugs and progressively longer kisses... more movies, dancing to records, riding our bicycles, swimming, playing in the woods and along the railroad tracks, watching TV, stargazing, and generally doing all the things kids did back then, many things which are pretty much unheard of today. By the end of summer, a new boy named Todd had caught Anne's eye, and our magical journey into the world of first love was over.

According to the way life usually goes, Anne and I drifted apart after high school, but we've remained friends, and I still call to say hello and talk with her on occasion. Invariably, the conversation settles on some happy memory of the youthful romance we shared in the spring and summer of '69. Those are the days we refer to as The Love Bug Days.

❤️

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Lazy No Post Thursday Frolics

 Greetings!  The stage is open!  Give it your best shot!

The Professor Sits In On A Game Of Porker

 

The professor knew some guys who knew some guys who were pigs.

Turns out these pigs liked to play a form of poker. One of these guys was a chick. Her name was Peggy. She did not dig being called Miss Piggy. So, just don’t do that. The others were the Hogg brothers, Gerhardt and Marvin.

One of the D&D guys that the prof knew said the pigs would be glad to have him sit in for a couple of games with them. If I get this right, it was Rooster’s big idea.

Pigs are notoriously gregarious, you remember. Though somewhat dubious, Prof. F. said “ok.” After all, he liked pigs and pigs liked him!

The appointed place, well their regular place, was the dank back room at a place called the Frisky Trotter, Bar and Grill. Cheap drinks and questionable grub. You know how pigs are.

It was a late Friday night at the Frisky Trotter. Prof. F. strolled in at about 10 pm. When he pushed the door open a scent of fried onions blew past him. It might have been better if he had turned around right then. It was dark in there and he had to ask where the back room was located. Several hopeful young piglets gave him come hither glances, but he ignored them. "Huzzies!" 

The back room smelled of damp carpet and inexpensive beer.

Three figures were hunched together down at the end of a long cafeteria type table. Seeing him, one shaggy figure who turned out to be Gerhardt rose to his feet and beckoned with a front trotter in which was clamped a sinister looking black cigarette. “Come on down, Prof,” he chortled. I must admit he snorted a couple of times too. Marvin shoved his visor up so he could get a good look at our Prof. He put both fore trotters on the tabletop and didn’t speak.

Miss Piggy, I mean Peggy, had the cards. She was kinda cute, if a little past her prime. She had a pile of golden curls on top of her head and wore a lot of jangly cheap jewelry.

“We heard you were coming,” said Peggy. “Take a seat!” Her little hooves scrabbled with delight under the table.

Professor Farns took a seat and faced the group. “Howdy” says he. His sense of the absurd was really kicking up now. In for a piggy out for a hog, or something came to mind.

“We got a cooler here. They let us bring our own beers” said Gerhardt, indicating the cooler behind Peggy’s chair. It was half full of melted ice and about a dozen cans of Sleazy Regret brand ale. “Oh well,” thinks the Prof and pulls one out for himself.

He wondered if there was something wrong with the lights. Things seemed to be getting vague. Dark. Little hard to get your cloven hoof on...

“Play porker, your squeal,” said Miss P… uh, Peggy to Prof. F, who was rather horrified, really. He couldn’t seem to get his hands to work right! They seemed to look somewhat like trotters!

A sort of dim mist filled the room and drowned out the sound of the porky voices. They all seemed further and further away as the seconds ticked over.

***

There was an awful ringing sound in his ears. He rolled over in bed and sat up. Mr. Gigi had something to say from the other room. “Gigi, Gigi,” he said!

Ralph vs OZ

 

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Ralph

Somewhat irascible, but a gentleman of the forests and streams. A thinker. Some might say a sneaky conniver. A trickster even!

He is a manlike person with a wife and a family, one supposes. Though any wee ones have been kept off camera. Ramona, we know.

He was born of a natural process. He had a mother and a father made of flesh with minds like his.

His desires are normal ones. It may be that he has extranormal abilities. But we do not know this for sure.

I am sure that he feels love. I am sure that he is able to act for altruistic reasons.

In a sense, he is bone of our bone.



OZ

Well, let’s think about him. What do we know if it pleases us to imagine that he exists or will exist?

OZ is a construct. His genesis was an artificial biological egg activated by a soup of some vitalizing liquid. No love was made. No parents awaited his emergence. He was hatched from a jug.

He is made of flesh, yes. But he is more like a radio or electronic receiver of some kind. His mind, if such it is, is a matter of 1s and 0s. He is programmable.

Is he a demon or is he an angel. It must depend on who programmed him.

Can such a creature be a servant of God, disguised as All Being in the fable?

Can such a creature transcend his origins? Perhaps some day we will have to consider such things.


So, if you were forced to vote to keep one of the two on planet, which would you vote for?

I think I would rather live somewhere where someone like Ralph could also live.

I feel only pity for OZ, to extent that he knows he exists at all. Perhaps Ralph is a person while OZ is a creature.

*** 

Please forgive your storyteller. I have not yet read the whole shebang. I need to do that before I extend the plot.

Sadie 'Paloosa and The Ride of Her Life

 

Just having lightened her load!

Her many-eyed back gleams in the golden light of summer. Her tail swings around, ponytail style. Her expression is wise and serene. Robins sing their diligent refrains. Green and gold predominate. 

She roams in her munching near the home of her people. Henry is kind with her. He brushes her and gives her oats in the morning. So, she likes to hang around the house and listen to the music playing through the open windows. She can hear Mark singing about the summer of love, but what does she know?

Something moving in the road, way down, catches her attention. She ambles up to the fence to take a lookie. Sadie is very curious at all times.

It’s manlike. It is covered in yellowish cloth. It walks slowly, turning around from time to time, as if searching for a signal. It looks at the sky. It rubs its hands together as if in some kind of anguish.

It climbs over her very own fence! She shies! But not so fast thinks Sadie! She comes closer to look at this one. White of face, and black of eye. Manlike, but not man. What is it? Her head rises up.

It buzzes. It hums. It smells uncanny. A scent of ozone and desperation.

“Lost,” says the manikin. He takes a few steps towards our Sadie!

His hand reaches her mane. With a nip, a tuck, and a leap he is on her back!

She flies! Her rosettes flash in the light. Manikin clinging, she flies to the back fence. She dances, forefeet in air. Around to the fence by the street she gallops, and she sails, slow motion for a moment, over the fence.

Down the road they flee together in a mighty thudding race. He leans low on her neck. Her eyes are wild, and her breath is bellowing!

A mighty orb of blinding light settles onto the asphalt. It spins at dizzying speed. Sadie throws on the brakes, as any rational horse would!

Manikin goes flying, like a rejected rag doll through the air. He lands. There is no motion. No sound. His yellowish garb begins to deflate. The body inside consumes itself thriftily. It decreases, leaving no mess.

He is unborn.



Sadie knows her way home. Soon she glides back over her own fence, and no one even knows she was gone!

Her day resumes.

Donkey Shine

 

Making a Bowline on a Bight Knot

I wonder if any of you have had this experience? 

Sometime in the late 50s, when we didn’t know any better, in one of those childhood sub-cultures that exist when you are a kid, we heard that in German you said donkeyshine for thank you. And we believed it.  We also thought German must be a very amusing language.

(This was years before anyone heard Wayne Newton sing that song.  Shudder. His pronunciation was not great.)

Of course, in time, I learned about danke schön, a nice polite, slightly formal way of saying thank you in German. Ah ha, thinks youthful p, connection made!

This little excursion is by way of introducing my evening thought this Saturday.

I want to thank all of you who have read and commented on the Meow all these months.  I also thank the mysterious lurkers. You have all been a pleasure and it has been my privilege to share the world of the mind with you.

I also want to thank LoneStar especially, without whose contributions things might not have gone at all well! I had quite a bit to learn.  Ahem. And I still get my foot in the bight from time to time.

It’s been fun! It’s also been a tremendous learning experience.

I surely hope to continue.  I wonder if we will match the 1001 nights of the old story!

Recalculating

 

I had never used GPS before, but the other day I had to find an address near where I grew up, where there had never been street addresses before because all the houses were new on new streets.  A new neighborhood tucked in where there had only been forest.

I got mixed up. Me!  I couldn’t believe it.  So, to save time I turned the voice on.  My little minder, as I call my iPhone has that capability.  I didn’t dig the bossy female voice, of course.  Why couldn’t it be someone I like?

But!  It worked.  I also discovered that if I passed the correct turn, it would recalculate and just carry on directing me by another route. I didn’t know it did that.  I’m sure everyone else knew it, but I had never stooped to using GPS in my life.

I found this relevant. Of course.

It’s like living life, isn’t it!

It’s also like writing a long winding story and trying to not get lost. In an imaginary world there is much recalculating, at least there is for me.

My next project is to actually read the whole thing.  I haven’t done that.

Then calculate.

Take Two, Thumbies Are Like Techno Genies

OZ and his others looked like they were having some kind of conference out in the backyard. They looked like a Carhartt commercial made for an off-world audience thought Doug.

“Jen, they are talking out there.” Doug said looking out the kitchen window. “I suppose they have some urgent need to fix something. There is for sure something they could do. I mean why not take advantage of their obsession?”

Jen peeked out the window. “Looks like trouble,” she said, and laughed a little.

She went back into the bedroom where Lou was holding Gabriel and left Doug to get on with it.

The original OZ, the one with the big safety pin on the front of his coveralls to distinguish him from the others came to Doug in the kitchen. He was fussing and humming. He said words that didn’t seem to pertain to anything. He had his hands pressed together. He didn’t look serene at all. His dead white skin looked even whiter than usual. His black eyes looked deep and inscrutable.

“Doug, I will obey you”, he began. “We need more. Almost everything is broken! Ten more” said OZ.

“Wait a minute OZ,” said Doug. “I need to make some rules here. You must obey me on this. This is very important. Will you obey me?”

“I will always obey you Doug, and I will learn,” intoned OZ confidently.

“Then this is law number two. Do not call more others without my permission. This is very important!

“Remember law number one? Don’t fix things without my agreement? You remember that one?”

If a Thumbie could look pained, this one did. A crease formed between his eyes. He put his hands in his pockets! This is not Thumbie behavior. He was silent for a beat or two. He hummed. He fidgeted.

“Ok, Doug. You’re the lordman. We will obey you.” But it seemed to cost him to say it.

“OZ, go tell the others, then we will talk,” said Doug.

Elvin had heard all of this, of course, as he was right there the whole time. He had been munching on some whole wheat cookies Lou had made, as he listened.

“Doug, it’s starting to act human. I don’t know if that is good or bad,” said brother Elvin. “If they all do that, they may be hard to control. It might be a good idea to separate the new ones from the old one.”

“It might be because Jen makes him wear that safety pin, it’s just too human,” said Doug. He thought he was joking. Maybe so.

“Hey, let’s give them a big job. Think of something that will be hard for them Doug. Something that will keep them real busy for a while.”

“The power plant up at lake Diablo. That’s what I have been worried about Elf, old buddy. That has to keep working. Maybe the five new ones could go up there, repair anything broken, and run it, keep it up to date,” said Doug.

“I’m sure I could get them to go if there was a way to send them there. It would take too long for them to walk there.”

The guys watched their Thumbies doing that weird “talking” thing they did out in the backyard by themselves. When they weren’t talking to humans they didn’t bother with human language. They sounded like very large electronic insects, with some words thrown in here and there.

“Let’s go out there and check it out,” said Doug.

So, he and Elvin went back out to the strange group standing in their little backyard, surrounded by the previous works of these busy creatures. The garden was looking so good, even the hen house looked sharp.

“OZ#1, we were wondering if you and your others could repair and run the power plant on the lake up in the mountains? That would be very joyous to me.” There was momentary silence in the Thumbie group. BTW, they didn’t call themselves Thumbies. That was pure human puckishness. When speaking to humans they referred to themselves as others.

“Doug, yes. A power plant is easy. No trouble. We will fix it for you,” said OZ the first. He took his hands out of his Carhartt pockets at that and pressed his palms together like a proper Thumbie. There was a lot of humming and happy buzzing from the rest of the group.

“Only three others go. Three is all it will need.” His black eyes sparkled.

“How will they go OZ?” Doug asked him. He might have suspected, but he didn’t know.

“We have a way. We will obey you Doug,” hummed OZ #1.

He reached into the right pocket of his coveralls and pulled out a length of shining material that looked like a sort of flexible rope or cable. It slithered snake-like in his strange hands.

He formed a kind of loop around six feet in diameter with it and began to twirl it as if he were a human cowboy. It steadied itself in the air, a shining circle.

A depth formed inside the circle. It grew and grew and became deeper and deeper. It became a passageway. It steadied and solidified. It became profound in its reality. The guys could see grass and a path.

In the appearance of magic there is a way.

OZ, ZO, and another OZ stepped into the shining circle. How did they know how to get to Diablo? That would remain a question for the present. First OZ gave them some last pops and fizzes and mumbled humming. Then they were in the passageway and walking along.

OZ the first gave a little jerk on his lasso and it fell to the ground, and he gathered it up and stuck it back in his pocket. Its mass seemed less then.

That left OZ the first and three others looking for something big! They were only partially joyous having been left out of this big project. They wanted more. They positively required more.

“See Doug. I have a way,” said OZ somewhat smugly.

“You sure did! How do they land in the right place OZ? I don’t get it,” said Doug. He wanted to know how this worked, but OZ had nothing to say on the subject.

“It works. Lordman should not worry,” replied OZ at last.

“We need more.”

“Wait here,” said Doug. “We will think of the next best thing for you. I need to talk to Jen and Elvin about this.”



Inside the house, Jen was walking around with a somewhat fussy Gabriel on her shoulder and Lou was making something at the kitchen counter. Lou had been doing a lot of cooking lately. When there is no place to go out to eat, then you cook!

The family sat at the table together.

“Now, they say they can run the power plant. What is next? Jen, what do you think? Lou? Anybody? Elf?”

Roops’ station was mentioned. His mom’s house was mentioned.

“You know guys,” said Doug. “I would like to see the store up and running again, all clean and repaired, selling and bartering stuff our people have grown or made. I would also like to send one Thumbie to the water utility, just to check it out and make sure it keeps working.

“So, let’s send two to the store building and one to the utility building.”



There was another conference in the backyard.

OZ#1 sent two down to the store to make it usable again. Then he sent one up to the water utility building outside of town. He seemed happy in an eerily unThumblie-like fashion. His eyes sparkled. He took a seat in a chair and just looked out toward the garden like any farmer anywhere, pleased with his work.

All of it so far: In the tenth year of the pandemonium.docx

A Word For Thursday

Somnolent

 

I thought of the word while musing

by my open window.

Sleeping off and on,

hearing wind chimes,

that elegance given on a little breeze.

The heat of our gentle summer

wrapping and lingering on

my dreaming heart.

I will write again

one of these days.

somnolent (adj.)



"sleepy, lethargic, drowsy, inclined to sleep," mid-15c., sompnolent, from Old French sompnolent, somnolent (Modern French somnolent) and directly from Latin somnolentus (in Medieval Latin also sompnolentus) "sleepy, drowsy," from somnus "sleep" (from PIE root *swep- "to sleep"). Respelled 17c. on Latin model; for the -p-, compare solemn.

Hungry For Work

 

Back Under Construction.

Mistakes were made.  Continuity was lost.  The writer was asleep or something.

But , it's not Fidel's fault.  He can stay.  For now.

Good Grief!  h/t Charlie Brown

All Thumbs

 

The Thumbies built a most superior hen house!

😁

There is a new one. It’s very small. Some of them are in bed. So, I am on my chair being quiet….

The house where Jen and Doug and Lou and Elvin have lived together for a year or so was quiet now. Gabriel had nursed and subsided into soft baby sleep. Their friend Roops was still there waiting for morning to walk back to his radio station home. He will stop and see his mother on the way.

OZ was more related to lab-grown meat with some electronic components built in than anything else. He thinks, after a fashion, the way a computer thinks. That is, he’s not thinking. He’s adding and subtracting.

He had a sort of personality. But it was so easy to anthropomorphize these guys, or animals, or other appealing machines.

“Figuring,” said OZ to himself.

“Shut up,” said Bubby.

“I obey Doug,” said OZ absently.

“At night you obey me,” said Bubby. “So shut up.” Bubby got up from his place under the table and went to the living room and flopped on the floor near Elvin’s sofa.

“I obey Doug, dog.”

Now there are more. More work. Figuring. How many? 5 more we. Need to send….he fidgeted and mumbled like that deep into the night.

His clothes never wore out. Whatever he happened to have next to his skin, if skin it is, was renewed by the same process he used to heal and feed himself. He was a matter sucking machine/organism.

I will call 5.

Morning arrived. A new sort of a morning for the family on Riverside Road. (Roops drank some tea, ate a biscuit and began the hike to his mom’s and then his own place.)

The family arranged its lives around Gabriel. Jen rested most of the next day with her son. Lou took over the household chores assisted by Elvin.

OZ spoke to Doug as he sat in the kitchen waiting for Lou to finish making him a couple of pancakes.

“Doug, we need more. 5 more. Things are broken,” said OZ. He placed his palms together. He hummed. He fussed. He configured.

“Five more what, OZ?”

“OZ, ZO, OZ, ZO, OZ, ZO,” hummed OZ urgently.

Doug sat up then. This had his attention finally. He was not sure he understood. “What for,” he asked at last.

OZ took the floor. “Things are broken. Your house is broken. I have seen your roof, Doug. Bad. Many things.

“Your garden is not good. You need more space for food plants. You need more chickens and chicken rooms. You need more animals! You are not able to do everything. We will do it! We will all obey you!” hums OZ. “I will teach them to obey you.”

Doug heard the phrase “will all obey you!” It stood out.

“OZ! Where are they,” Doug yelped and stood up. OZ’s black eyes watched him placidly.

“I called them. 5. Behind the house,” said OZ, like water dripping. His assurance was total.

Doug headed for the back door. OZ followed in his Carhartts. Elvin followed too.

Standing in a row like Dept Store dummies, wearing brand-new Carhartts were five more. Except for details of positioning, you could not tell them apart. They all placed their palms together intoning “Joyous Configuration!”

Doug and Elvin stood together on the back porch steps. OZ joined his others on the ground level.

OZ spoke. “New master is Doug. If you will obey him, he will direct you. If you will not obey him, you will go. He will not break or remake you. You will work joyously.

“Will you obey Doug?” Five identical voices sang out. “We will obey Doug!”

Surveying this strange scene, Doug held up a hand. It silenced the Thumbies. They waited together. Five sets of huge black eyes looked at him as he prepared to speak to them. Elvin looked at his brother.

“Alright you guys. Alright. We will try it out. Don’t do anything without telling OZ #1 here, so he can tell me. Then we will decide.”

The Thumbies were very well programmed to perform all kinds of construction and outdoor labor. Doug didn’t know yet, but they were also the latest word in technical workers. He would find out.

In the next week, while Doug was tending to his family, the Thumbies went on the job. All aboveboard, with Doug’s permission they tilled another section of garden and planted winter vegetables. They weeded Lou’s current garden very well, freeing her to hang out with Jen and Gabriel.

They built a hen house of great excellence using materials hanging around the place. They fenced an area around it nicely. They moved the chickens into the new one.

There was some material shapeshifting going on, but not a lot. Mostly they used lumber that was lying around in the backyard shed.

Then, they got hungry for work again.

Total linkness!  In the tenth year of the pandemonium.docx

Ready Or Not, Here I Come!

 

painting by Joanquin Sorolla

 

I was just pouring the boiling water off the potatoes when I started feeling something odd. I set the pan back on the stove and sat down on a chair next to the table. It wasn’t like pain. It was like a gripping sensation.

Lou looked at me curiously. “What are you doing?”

I said, “I’m not really sure Lou. But I think it might be time.”

“Time for what? This chicken isn’t done. What are you on about….oh!!”

She finally seemed to grasp that I wasn’t talking about dinner. She put her hands on both of her cheeks and looked at me with her mouth hanging open, but no sound coming out.

“Lou, will you go out to the yard and get Doug quietly? Tell him I need a word with him. Try not to act excited.” She strolled out of the back door exhibiting her theatrical manner of looking calm. I saw her walk up to Doug and have a short conversation with him.

Elvin looked at me and I looked at him. He said, “let me know when and I will go get Ellen.”

“Thanks Elvin. You are always right on point aren’t you?” I squirmed a little on my wooden kitchen chair. I shut my eyes. When I opened them, Doug was standing there with Lou just behind him.

“Do you think it’s now Jen?” Doug looked serious and a little wary. I was a little sorry for him. He had never been through anything like this any more than I had.

I felt that grip again. I put my hands on my knees and shut my eyes. When it loosened, I said, “I think so Doug.” “Ok baby,” he said to me with his eyes wide and dark.

In that relaxed moment I said, “Elvin says he will go get Ellen if she is home.” I sure hoped she was home. I had no idea how long this might take. We were all beginners here.

Roops stepped into the kitchen to see what was happening. He got the picture quickly. “Is there anything at all I can do here kids,” he said softly.

I said, “yes. Will you hang around tonight and kind of keep a lid on things around here while Doug and I are busy?

“Can you finish setting up dinner with Lou? If you could just take that off my mind I would be thankful. I won’t need to eat, but you guys will.”

Roops said, “sure. Easy. Don’t give it another thought! I’m a cooking fool!”

I spend another minute inside my mind, waiting for the tightening to pass.

Elvin went outdoors. He left immediately, riding his bike.

Doug said, “maybe while it’s quiet we should move you in to the bed?”

“I’m not sure. I guess so. I don’t want to make a big mess, you know?” I stood up. That was interesting. It brought on another cramp.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll fix you up a nice nest that will be ok.” And he did just that, quickly.

With Lou on my left arm, and Doug’s arm around my waist from the right side I slowly moved into my parents’ bedroom. I thought of my mother then. I missed her terribly and I wanted her then. I looked at their bed and saw that it was stripped of most bedding and that Doug had made it waterproof.

I sat down on the side of the bed facing the doorway. We waited through another spell of tightening in my belly. I didn’t feel like lying down. I felt like staying upright and active. Doug sat beside me and didn’t talk. I felt some impatience growing. I felt almost irritable.

I wanted Ellen. I was thirsty. Doug got me some water. I told Lou to go see if she could help Roops in the kitchen. Time passed. Maybe an hour. I was having longer cramps and they were getting closer together.

I said to Doug “will you bring me that basket of the baby’s clothes. I just want to look at them for a minute?” He brought them to me. I looked at them for a moment and then asked him to put them back. I was getting deeper and deeper into this experience. I felt restless. My back began aching. I had a cramp in one of my legs. Doug rubbed it out.

I thought about the child. I had been feeling him or her moving quite a lot until just recently. He still moved but not as much. I thought that he or she was getting too big to roll around so much as before.

I said, “Doug, pray for me and this baby, will you?” He did. He kept his hands on me because I felt it calming.

There was some new activity in the kitchen. I could hear Elvin and Ellen talking to Lou and Roops. I felt like it was all a bit dreamy. Time was passing quickly. That’s the way it seemed to me anyhow.

Ellen came into the bedroom with her special blue backpack full of her medical gear. She laid it on the dresser. Then she sat beside me and said, “Hi Jen. So! Now is the day, is it? Looking at you, it seems to be. I think you will have a quick labor. Let’s have a look, shall we?” I nodded and lay back. Doug picked up my legs and swung them around, so I was straight with the bed.

Ellen said to Doug, “why don’t you take a little break and eat, then come back to us?” He winked gratuitously at me and strolled out.

Ellen said I was nearly ready. I was so glad she was here. The drowsiness was leaving me. I felt a sort of muscular intensity that is hard to explain. I was wide awake now and maybe a little cranky, but Ellen had seen this all before and didn’t take it seriously. I told Doug to go drink coffee for a few minutes, or whatever! He left obediently.

So, if you have given birth, you know. If you have not, I can’t really explain it to you. People can try to help. They can do all that is in their power to support you, but it is you and God on that table or in that bed or in that field or wherever it happens. Bargains are made, promises kept. Thanks are returned. This is how life continues.

Doug came back in time to meet his son, before even I saw him. Ellen laid the boy in Doug’s hands where he was holding a big bath towel. He waited for a few minutes while she dealt with the cord.

He brought our towel wrapped still messy son to me and put him in my arms. I thought he was huge. He was noisy. He cried loudly. Ellen said that was good. It meant he was healthy, and everything was working right. He had deep blue eyes and a lot of dark hair.

I looked at his father and said, “what is your son’s name, Doug Simpson?”

He looked at me with his mouth open and finally said, “Gabriel Arnold Simpson,” almost in spite of himself.

I laughed for sheer joy and said, “Gabriel it is! So be it!”

Ellen had me all fixed up and in blankets. Gabriel was lying in the crook of my left arm, fussing around a bit. It seemed like a good time for a family meeting, so Doug called them all in.

Lou got into bed with me and kept her eyes on the baby. Roops stood grinning at the whole scene, looking benevolent. Elvin stood back but looked pleased. Doug looked beyond goofy and happy. His dark hair, long again, hung in his eyes a bit. He smiled brilliantly; he was so beautiful to me right then.

Ellen was gathering her supplies and packing up. She had brushed my hair and washed my face for me.

Even OZ came to take a look and reminded Doug that he would obey him! That settled he went back to the kitchen and his special chair to be quiet for a while. I could hear him out there talking his weird almost English to himself.

As I looked around the room at the people gathered there, I noticed a now familiar point of light up in a corner by the ceiling. It settled down at about eye level and grew to something like beachball size. It shone with a soft, slightly peach toned, pearlescent light. Obscure patterns almost like written words moved over the surface. Rays of gentle light touched all of us adults and Gabriel too. Peace like a river filled the room.

A soft voice from no direction spoke then.

“Gabriel will be our special care. The Lord, All Being has looked upon him and is pleased. He is to be greatly blessed today and, in all the days to come. His name was given to you as a gift.”

As we all looked on the Light moved out of our realm of seeing and left us there together.

I took Ellen’s hands in mine and thanked her. She smiled and said she had only seen one of these Lights once before, the time one had appeared to her and said she would be needed by us.

I had prepared a gift for her of my mother’s best jewelry, real gold and gems, a necklace, and a ring. They were wrapped in a small wooden box and a nice silk scarf. I hoped that they would be of some value to her. She accepted gracefully.

Elvin walked her back home to her husband and home and came back home to us. Roops settled down in the living room on my dad’s recliner, having decided to walk home in the morning. Elvin took his usual spot on the sofa.

Lou stayed in bed with me until she got too sleepy and went upstairs. Doug lay and just watched Gabriel.

I couldn’t sleep. I was just too happy.

It was the best night ever.

Link to all: In the tenth year of the pandemonium.docx