Once, a very, very short time ago, we went to the park. It was, in fact, this morning. I was not at work. I was not typing. I was not sitting at a desk. No, I was at the park. With you.
You were there like you always are, eyes wide and ready to play. What is your favorite piece of playground equipment? The swingset? The merry-go-round? The wooden swinging bridge? The climbing spider web? The precarious teeter-totter? My suspicion is, you love them each for what they are.
As it was an early, gray morning, there were few other children at the park. There was, in fact, only one mother strollering her now-sleeping baby along the walkway; two small dogs walking at the end of two retractable leashes held by one large man with a beard and eyeglasses; and four birds, four feet apart, all in earnest conversation with one another regarding, I assume, the following: the size, shape and color of their breakfast, the variant colors of the summer sunrise, the probability of rain (100%), and the hatching dates of the neighborhood eggs. They were the liveliest bunch of them all, except for you. You sat lithely, listening to their tunes (don't you wish we could talk as prettily as they do?) while trying to touch the tips of their trees with your toes. And I think you did.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Birthdays
Another friend of mine, BD, is having a birthday today. Do birthdays bring out the best writing in me? Do they bring out the best in everyone? I sure hope so. Birthdays remind us of the best in everyone, and so we make plans to celebrate the best. Let's make this a birthday-best madlibs. You can fill in your own nouns and verbs and the rest.
Dear (your name):
(Adjective) birthday! I am so (adjective-emotion) to know you. I remember when we first met. It was my (number +st/rd/th/etc) year in (noun) school. You learned my name, but told me I looked like a (girl's name), not a Laura. One year, on my birthday, my sister left me with you at the (ethnicity) festival in Portland. We watched the (adjective) dancers, tasted delicious (type of ethnic food), and listened to a speaker discuss (adjective) art and icons. It was (adjective)!
It turns out that all the time, my sister had been planning a surprise (noun) for me! Well, as you remember, I felt very (adjective) and was so (noun-feeling) that all of my friends had come to (verb) me for my birthday. It was the best (noun) ever!
Today is your (noun) and I hope that you feel at least as (noun-feeling) as I did on that day. I wish you (adjective) food, enthusiastic (plural noun), and so much (whatever).
(ing-verb) (of) you today!
Dear (your name):
(Adjective) birthday! I am so (adjective-emotion) to know you. I remember when we first met. It was my (number +st/rd/th/etc) year in (noun) school. You learned my name, but told me I looked like a (girl's name), not a Laura. One year, on my birthday, my sister left me with you at the (ethnicity) festival in Portland. We watched the (adjective) dancers, tasted delicious (type of ethnic food), and listened to a speaker discuss (adjective) art and icons. It was (adjective)!
It turns out that all the time, my sister had been planning a surprise (noun) for me! Well, as you remember, I felt very (adjective) and was so (noun-feeling) that all of my friends had come to (verb) me for my birthday. It was the best (noun) ever!
Today is your (noun) and I hope that you feel at least as (noun-feeling) as I did on that day. I wish you (adjective) food, enthusiastic (plural noun), and so much (whatever).
(ing-verb) (of) you today!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Two Shoe
Once upon a time, I bought a new pair of boots. I saw them nestled in a corner looking so forlorn. I am sure they brightened up at the sight of me. I saw no other pair. We locked eyes. They were tall, grey, and lucky. I tried to find someone who would lawfully let me have them, but the seller was buying lunch from a nearby vendor. I set the boots aside on a chair and perused other booths, from the northwest 1/4 quarter of the indoor area around the loop, and back to the point of origin next to the scarf seller. Money exchanged hands, and they were mine to have and to hold. The seller gave me an apologetic look and mentioned the worn-down heels. I didn't waiver but proudly walked on with my stunning new-old boots hanging by their convenient loops from my right hand. At the dress and leather shop down the street, a friendly sales clerk gave me free advice-- Don't wear those boots until you have had the heels fixed. You will not be able to wear them at all if they are not properly taken care of. She was full of goodwill and wishes for me and my boots. I smiled at her and thanked her, so happy to know how to take care of what was now mine. Fortunately, there is a cobbler down the street, around the corner and four blocks from where I work! Oh, happy grey boot day to you all!
What is your favorite pair of shoes? What do they look like? What do they smell like? Where did you first discover them ? How do they make you feel when you wear them? Could they change your luck on a cloudy day? Who is the first person you saw when you tried them on? Where did you go on your first outing together? How long have they been part of your life?
What a difference a shoe makes. What a joy to have a pair.
What is your favorite pair of shoes? What do they look like? What do they smell like? Where did you first discover them ? How do they make you feel when you wear them? Could they change your luck on a cloudy day? Who is the first person you saw when you tried them on? Where did you go on your first outing together? How long have they been part of your life?
What a difference a shoe makes. What a joy to have a pair.
Monday, June 25, 2012
trains? busses? ferries? cars?
Moral of the story: It's fine to have no plans (sometimes), but well-executed exit strategies are essential. And friends are more essential.
I'm tired. You may write today's story yourself. Winners will be awarded an imaginary golden pen of awesome.
Here are your prompts: Stomach issues, Seattle is magic, Tourism via Chevro-legs, Missed the buss/train home by hours, Roommate intervention, Owl 'N Thistle, Fremont Sunday Market, Washington Ferry System, Nacho Yoga, Friends: old and new.
I'm tired. You may write today's story yourself. Winners will be awarded an imaginary golden pen of awesome.
Here are your prompts: Stomach issues, Seattle is magic, Tourism via Chevro-legs, Missed the buss/train home by hours, Roommate intervention, Owl 'N Thistle, Fremont Sunday Market, Washington Ferry System, Nacho Yoga, Friends: old and new.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Border Patrol
It's lunchtime again, and I have a story. Wait for it... it's on its way.
Once I took a ferry to Canada. Canada is an exciting place, let me tell you. Mostly because you need a passport or an enhanced driver's license to get in and out of there in a dignified fashion. (Dignified means not with a police escort.) So you must understand how important I felt carrying around proof of being US-American. The border patrol officers were polite even when I missed the entrance to the passport check, which was located in a tiny white prefab building. (Prefab means cheap and moveable.) I did this because I saw a group of officers sitting right outside of the office. Officers always look official even when taking a break, so naturally I assumed they would play a crucial role in getting me to the True North Strong and Free. Well, it turns out they did. As I walked over to them, passport-ready, one lounging gentleman officer said, "Could you do me a favor?" I wondered in my heart what manner of greeting this could be. Trying not to look nervous, I said, "Yes." "Go up the ramp into the building." "Ok." Smile. "Thanks."
And that is how I nearly missed Canada by two feet. A narrow scrape, and quite worth writing home about. If you, reader, are ever in such a place of foreign adventuring, wondering at the strange greetings of mild-mannered officers, please remember to be polite and smile and not be too embarrassed when they redirect you. It happens to... well... me.
Once I took a ferry to Canada. Canada is an exciting place, let me tell you. Mostly because you need a passport or an enhanced driver's license to get in and out of there in a dignified fashion. (Dignified means not with a police escort.) So you must understand how important I felt carrying around proof of being US-American. The border patrol officers were polite even when I missed the entrance to the passport check, which was located in a tiny white prefab building. (Prefab means cheap and moveable.) I did this because I saw a group of officers sitting right outside of the office. Officers always look official even when taking a break, so naturally I assumed they would play a crucial role in getting me to the True North Strong and Free. Well, it turns out they did. As I walked over to them, passport-ready, one lounging gentleman officer said, "Could you do me a favor?" I wondered in my heart what manner of greeting this could be. Trying not to look nervous, I said, "Yes." "Go up the ramp into the building." "Ok." Smile. "Thanks."
And that is how I nearly missed Canada by two feet. A narrow scrape, and quite worth writing home about. If you, reader, are ever in such a place of foreign adventuring, wondering at the strange greetings of mild-mannered officers, please remember to be polite and smile and not be too embarrassed when they redirect you. It happens to... well... me.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
A Birthday Story of Sorts
It was my friend Amanda's birthday over the weekend. She is a very old and dear friend; old, not in the aged sense, but in terms of duration. I will write her a small story for her day that goes a little something like this:
Once upon a time or two ago, two travelers rendezvoused in an undisclosed location. You see, they were friends. Friends who enjoyed both the in-of-doors and the out-of-doors. On this particular time, they chose an out-of-door location that was filled with trees, which is the material out of which some persons choose to construct doors. The friends walked among the trees. They admired the trees. They picked the leaves from trees to hang on their refrigerators. Leaves were chosen based on the following criteria (criterion?): vibrancy of color, size, symmetry. They had a picnic, during which they held races for their leaves. Note: Leaf races take several months to complete, seeing as the track is merely the distance from branch to ground. Watching an entire leaf race is very tedious and time consuming, and I would not recommend it for those who are mobile. However, Leaf Race Viewing is a very enjoyable past-time when taken in small doses of an hour or two, especially when and where the climate is favorable and one has a serviceable lawn blanket and pair of rockin' shades. [If you do find yourself in a leaf race area, be advised: betting on leaf races is very chancy and is generally discouraged.] When the friends left, the two leaves were neck-and-neck, and as no spectators were present when they fell, we have assumed a tie.
Side note to make this more birthday-like: If you were a leaf on a tree, I would not pluck you from the branch. Leaves only enjoy a long, healthy life of leafhood when attached to the tree from whence they sprung. Yea, verily, I would leaf you on the tree. But, before passing by, I would comment on your perfect color, size and symmetry, and maybe snap a picture of the two of us together, because time spent with beautiful leaves is always too short. I would come and see you again, and perhaps you would fly over and visit me on vacations.
Inasmuch as you are less like a leaf than you are a friend and fellow-traveller, I wish you, this summer, a very happy summer and fall of leaf-watching and various other restful and rejuvenating activities. Also, I wish we could go outside and have a birthday picnic together. The end.
Once upon a time or two ago, two travelers rendezvoused in an undisclosed location. You see, they were friends. Friends who enjoyed both the in-of-doors and the out-of-doors. On this particular time, they chose an out-of-door location that was filled with trees, which is the material out of which some persons choose to construct doors. The friends walked among the trees. They admired the trees. They picked the leaves from trees to hang on their refrigerators. Leaves were chosen based on the following criteria (criterion?): vibrancy of color, size, symmetry. They had a picnic, during which they held races for their leaves. Note: Leaf races take several months to complete, seeing as the track is merely the distance from branch to ground. Watching an entire leaf race is very tedious and time consuming, and I would not recommend it for those who are mobile. However, Leaf Race Viewing is a very enjoyable past-time when taken in small doses of an hour or two, especially when and where the climate is favorable and one has a serviceable lawn blanket and pair of rockin' shades. [If you do find yourself in a leaf race area, be advised: betting on leaf races is very chancy and is generally discouraged.] When the friends left, the two leaves were neck-and-neck, and as no spectators were present when they fell, we have assumed a tie.
Side note to make this more birthday-like: If you were a leaf on a tree, I would not pluck you from the branch. Leaves only enjoy a long, healthy life of leafhood when attached to the tree from whence they sprung. Yea, verily, I would leaf you on the tree. But, before passing by, I would comment on your perfect color, size and symmetry, and maybe snap a picture of the two of us together, because time spent with beautiful leaves is always too short. I would come and see you again, and perhaps you would fly over and visit me on vacations.
Inasmuch as you are less like a leaf than you are a friend and fellow-traveller, I wish you, this summer, a very happy summer and fall of leaf-watching and various other restful and rejuvenating activities. Also, I wish we could go outside and have a birthday picnic together. The end.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
The Zoophagus
Once upon our time, we went to the farm. What was your favorite animal? Did it have fur? Feathers? Was it fond of fish? Draw a picture of how it looked. Please write below it what it did or did not say or do.
My favorite animal was the zoophagus. Close relative of Snuffelupagus, according to my research. Also has distant relations in the giraffe clan, as evidenced by the long neck. The neck is, indeed, as long as the nose. You remember how they look, don't you? Perhaps you should draw a picture, now, so you don't forget. Many have, and so I write to remind you. I waved enthusiastically at the youngest in the herd, who was in fact the tallest. Unlike other farm animals and other live things, zoophagusses (they hate the pretentiousness of the proper 'zoophagi') shrink over time. She winked back at me, her feathery eyelashes waving in the breeze.
Draw a picture, if you will, of your favorite animal and my favorite animal. Are they friends? Are they shy? Do they play well together or poorly? Which one is better at sharing? What kind of food do they BOTH enjoy? (If you cannot think of a common favorite food, please consider chocolate cake.)
If you find your animals are having a conflict, such as perhaps one animal liking chocolate cake so much that it eats the other's share, please consider baking a second cake and reminding the offending animal that it is good to ask politely for seconds after everyone has had their own piece of chocolate cake, fed to them on china plates or banana leaves, whichever is most easily accessible.
My favorite animal was the zoophagus. Close relative of Snuffelupagus, according to my research. Also has distant relations in the giraffe clan, as evidenced by the long neck. The neck is, indeed, as long as the nose. You remember how they look, don't you? Perhaps you should draw a picture, now, so you don't forget. Many have, and so I write to remind you. I waved enthusiastically at the youngest in the herd, who was in fact the tallest. Unlike other farm animals and other live things, zoophagusses (they hate the pretentiousness of the proper 'zoophagi') shrink over time. She winked back at me, her feathery eyelashes waving in the breeze.
Draw a picture, if you will, of your favorite animal and my favorite animal. Are they friends? Are they shy? Do they play well together or poorly? Which one is better at sharing? What kind of food do they BOTH enjoy? (If you cannot think of a common favorite food, please consider chocolate cake.)
If you find your animals are having a conflict, such as perhaps one animal liking chocolate cake so much that it eats the other's share, please consider baking a second cake and reminding the offending animal that it is good to ask politely for seconds after everyone has had their own piece of chocolate cake, fed to them on china plates or banana leaves, whichever is most easily accessible.
Introduction to the Copywright Fairy
This blog is protected by the Copywright Fairy. Fairies have a long and complicated history with copywright law, as they do with all other kinds of law related to the proper eating of chocolate cake and other surprisingly legal matters. Please avoid even a hint of copywright infringement lest you run afoul of their grinding and finicky judicial process. If you don't believe in fairies, then perhaps you believe in The Law. I work at a Law Office. Don't push your luck, Reader.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)