29 degrees of Thankful Thursday

Yesterday and today have been frigid in these parts. The kind of cold that makes my teeth ache and my nostril hairs stick together as soon as I step outside. I’ve toted my space heater from room to room while waging an internal debate on the pros and cons of life in Florida or Arizona or Texas. (Okay, that’s melodramatic hyperbole.) However, the stuff about my nostril hairs is true.

But at this moment, I’m thankful for the promise of better things:

weather-forecast

That’s a 29 degree swing in the right direction, and I’ll take it!

As that Little Orphan Annie with the freakishly blank eyes is fond of saying:
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow ….

 

 

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Inspirational Poetry

GET FUZZY by Darby Conley                                         September 26, 2016
getfuzzy-9-26-16


Inspirational as in “Now I don’t feel so bad about my poetry.”

Thanks, Satchel!

 

 

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Punching is for expression

GET FUZZY by Darby Conley
Get Fuzzy on writing as expression

This old Get Fuzzy strip does not represent any personal animosity toward poets.
Rather, it’s more a statement on my current state of mind.
Specifically, my desire to punch something.
Although, stabbing would be equally therapeutic.

As Zebu would say, “Mom’s feeling a little stabby today.”

“Stabby and punchy.”
That’s me.

Shouldn’t there be a t-shirt or bumpersticker?

 

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Parallel Lives

Here is a screen grab from today of the third and last hawk that has yet to leave the nest above the Cornell University athletic fields:

#3 contemplating fledge

And here’s today’s Agnes episode as she makes her yearly attempt to go off the high dive at the pool:

AGNES by Tony Cochran

Agnes 6.11.12

The hawk is 70 feet above the athletic field
and Agnes is probably only about 10 feet from the water.
Still.
I very much empathize with both of them
as they summon the energy and courage to take the plunge.

The Agnes Toolbox

       

Agnes 6.10.12

Okay.
I know I have talent, but I'm for sure also wielding my perseverance
(although I hope not in a bludgeon-esque manner).

                 

Wordless Wednesday: The Pogo Edition

           

(Okay, a few words: Churchy and Albert are characters from the Pogo comic strip  
and they're what my brother and I played with way back when. These and other characters
came in boxes of Biz Laundry Detergent but we no longer have the originals so I bought
these guys on ebay and made them little vests just like the old days.)

               

Message from God

            

AGNES by Tony Cochran

I am exceedingly freckled and in possession of several sharpies.
Perhaps it's time to deviate from my regularly scheduled program . . .

                    

Off to the Mountains

      

Just wanted to say I’ll be scarce around these parts for the remainder of the week
as I’ll be in the wilds without internet access or cell phone service.

Send up a flare if you need to get in touch.

In the meanwhile, Agnes is facing her fear of the high dive . . .

AGNES by Tony Cochran

    

I can only hope I’ll have Agnes’s grace and presence of mind 

should I ever find myself dangling above a pool.

 
                

Name Those Phobias!

              

AGNES by Tony Cochran

Okay, I’m hard-pressed to come up with a more original phobia than these,
but I will admit to being seriously creeped out whenever I think back to the video
I saw of a male frog giving birth through the skin on his back.
Not even a spork could make that more scary for me.

How about you?
Got PHOBIAS?

                

Friday Five: The Losing My Memory Edition

                  

1)  For several years I’ve had to walk out of rooms and back into them
in order to remember why I walked in there in the first place. 
(A bothersome turn of events but not too scary, memory-wise.)

2)  More and more frequently, I feel as if I’m turn turning into my mother

who used to call out each of her five kids’ names before hitting on the right one.
(A somewhat humorous lapse in mental faculties that feels a bit scarier whenever 
I accidentally call my kid or husband by my dog or cat’s names.)
 
3)  A couple months ago, I drew a total and complete blank on a friend’s name 
for about five minutes.
(That memory void freaked me out, and freaked out Wildebeest even more 
when I confessed it to him.)
 
4)  Earlier this week, I was writing a check (something I don’t do all that regularly but
have done for thirty years), and temporarily forgot how to write out the cents part of the amount.
I really and truly could not remember how to do it.
(Ack!  That is all I can say about this episode.)
 
5)  I was thinking all these things were signs of aging and/or early onset dementia but then
I read Agnes today and realized the same happens to the very young:
 
AGNES by Tony Cochran
 
Have a great weekend, everyone!
May you create wonderful memories that stay with you forever and ever.
 
              

Defining Friendship

               

AGNES by Tony Cochran

Sometimes we need to establish boundaries so that our friendships may continue.
That said, I’m confident my friends here in LJ-Land who are all exceedingly supportive (tolerant?)
of my bird mania would varnish my nose if I asked nicely.

Isn’t that right, friends?

Hellooooo?  Anyone out there?
 
                

My Little Corner of the World

               

AGNES by Tony Cochran

I’m easily overwhelmed by the sheer amount of clean-up necessary,
in my kitchen cabinets and
underwear/sock drawer and
linen closet and
manuscript and 
flower beds and
storage room and . . .

Let’s face it, I’m freaked out by the mess we’ve made of the planet.

So.
I’m taking it a little bit at a time
and dealing with my personal messes.

 
I’ve cleaned up the kitchen and vacuumed the upstairs.
Later I’ll clean up my manuscript,
and then I might reach for the backhoe.
 
But maybe I should hold out for a bulldozer.
 
              

Bucky Katt Does Robert Frost

               

GET FUZZY by Darby Conley

Doesn’t this seem like great fun?

For instance, how about "Bob Chilly’s" THE PASTURE?

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan’t be gone long. — You come too.

Here’s my adaptation:
I’m leaving to wade back into Scrivener mode;
I won’t stop except to wipe tears from my cheeks
(And wait for my vision to de-blur, maybe):

If I’m not back soon, please come find me.
 
I welcome any and all adaptations in the comments section . . .