Happy Valentine’s !
Here’s a card for that someone special…
My son, who has his bedroom adjacent to the kitchen where the radio plays, stomped out of his room very confused this morning.
“What kind of song is this? Why do they keep singing ‘we’ve got to grow it on her brow?’ I don’t get it! Grow what?!”
“Um, the lyrics are actually ‘we’ve got a groovy kind of love’ but I think I like your version better.”
Saw this graffiti on my vacation. I don’t know what it means, but I like it.
Well, the big news around our neighborhood this week is that we allegedly have some foxes going around EATING PEOPLE’S CATS!
Once again, these are animals that everyone in my neighborhood sees (last year it was badgers) but I never catch a glimpse. We live next to the forest and I walk through there all the time. No foxes, badgers or beavers that I can see. Plenty of deer and rabbits.
Anyway, it’s been fun to read the threads in our neighborhood group. On one side you have the cat people “Protect your cats!” On the other side, you have the bird people, “It’s good that the foxes eat the cats because the cats eat too many birds!”
A few more choice favorites are the guy who posted that “city cats are WEAK! A country cat could take out a fox any day.”
And just for fun, if you hit Google translate on some of these, they get really weird. Here’s a case where a woman is talking about a 3-legged deer in Swedish. Google turns more gruesome:
“I called Marshall who came here and shot a “Three-legged” kid in my garden for a couple of years ago. I didn’t know if it was right or wrong”
Yet another Google translate mistake (with the name of a street) turned another post into something quite poetic:
“I saw a fox last week at the ancient path. It had a cat in his mouth and went with a firm step against the park in front of the ancient house. He seemed very fearless.”
I will do my best to keep you updated in the “Neighborhood Fox Saga.” I hope it lives up to last year’s “Badgers in our Gardens.”
The Christmas gift poem is not as widely done these days, but some people still practice the tradition. The gift-giver writes a couple of rhyming couplets on their presents, hinting at what’s hidden inside, which is then read out before opening it.
A lovely scent of mystery
in a bottle you’ll admire
a few drops at time
may set hearts on fire.
My husband used to do this on my gifts until we had kids and now we are too exhausted to come up with that many rhymes.
I see this phrase often, so let’s give it a try.
“Once upon a time, I cut my ankle while shaving my legs in the shower. And then it happened again, and again, and again, and then I decided I should probably be slower and more careful. The end.”
I don’t know. I think that story sucks.
The miniscule electric fan heaves
to push tiny breaths of air into the sweltering abode
Beads of sweat pour down my neck
As I wrap my lengthening hair in my dollar store hair clip
The computer – overheated!
The television – overheated!
The iPad – overheated!
The intricate systems were never meant to suffer this cruel roasting
“What shall I do?” I weep into the kitchen.
“Open me”, whispers the ice box in my ear.
Mint Chocolate ice cream
We meet again.