Posts tagged ‘my random thoughts about’

But For the Pumpkins

I think I must have my holiday season associations mixed up.
I know some people like to think of winter as starting in November, or spring starting in April and so forth, (it might as well be around here), but I happen to know and stress otherwise.
For example, even though Thanksgiving and Halloween are both Autumn holidays, turkey day to me has always been a festive harvest occasion, while Halloween always gets me excited for winter.

If this is the point where your brain just screeched to a halt, you can go back and read that again, but it was right the first time. I don’t know whether it’s to do with seven-headed rodent kings, skeleton Santas or Dickens’s ghosts, but something about that last day of October, (it should always be chilly), just gets my toes curling in anticipation for fur-lined boots crunching through snow and snuggling under warm blankets and listening to the wind howl outside.
Those readers who have been with me since the days when I was more prolific can probably appreciate the strangeness of this admition.
And now I offer you a story, one day late, but I was feeling inspired.

As soon as Kaylie pulled her head up, she began searching for Billy. Her wet hair whipped against her face as she looked wildly around the room.
“That wasn’t funny Billy!” she shouted to the emptiness; her little fists clenched. Then she went tearing out of the room to find mama.
Mama had gone inside earlier with a headache and left Billy in charge. Mama had headaches a lot, but one time when Kaylie had come inside to get a bandaid for her cut and to tell on Billy for pushing her, she had caught Mama kissing a strange man in the laundry room. She must have had a real headache today though because Kaylie found her in bed; a glass of water on her nightstand.
“Mama! Mama Billy’s being mean again.”
Mama opened and closed her eyes without looking at Kaylie.
Kaylie tried again, but Mama didn’t so much as glance at her. Patches the cat came over and sniffed at Kaylie. Then his fur got big and fluffy and he hissed at her. Patches had never hissed at Kaylie before. She backed away.
Billy had gone back outside to join his friends after he had let Kaylie go, and that was where she found him.
“Mama’s really mad at you Billy,” she lied; hands on hips. “She’s going to come down any minute to whup you.”
Billy ignored her; continuing to throw the green and white ball around with his friends.
“Whadja’ do to your dumb little sister anyway,” one of the boys asked.
“Don’t worry about her,” Billy dismissed.
Mad now, Kaylie ran up and got right in his face.
But Billy just danced away and threw the ball to one of his friends. Kaylie ran and tried to catch the ball, but the boys were all taller than her and so it was easy to keep it out of her reach.
When finally Billy got the ball again, he turned and threw it hard. Kaylie had to duck out of the way as it came right at her face. Then she went running inside and began hollering.
Mama came staggering downstairs then and nearly tripped over the bucket of water in the middle of the dining room. She swore; then fast walked to the kitchen door and leaned out.
“Billy,” she called, “what’s this bucket doing in the middle of the floor?”
“I donno,” Billy called back. “Kaylie musta brought it inside.”
“Nuh uh,” Kaylie countered. “He brought it in to show me how to bob for apples.”
“Well it doesn’t belong there,” Mama finished. “Now send your friends home and come clean up all this water that got spilled.
Kaylie watched smugly as Billy laid newspaper down over the wet spot while Mama dried and put away the rest of the apples. When Mama came back in to the dining room to put the bucket away, Billy jumped up and ran to her.
“Mama don’t.”
She shook him off as he grabbed at her arm.
“I’m putting it away. The closet’s where it goes Billy.”
“Wait, I wanted to use it for something else.”
“Not now,” Mama said firmly.
“She pulled open the closet door and shoved the bucket inside, but it wouldn’t go in. Yanking aside an old suitcase, she tried again. Then she stumbled back as something fell out. Her hands flew up to her mouth; the bucket forgotten beside her.
Kaylie’s small form lay crumpled on the floor; still in her little blue dress. Her curly dark hair and shoulders were soaked through from the water; bits of apple still in her mouth.


5 A.M.

Hello blog, it’s me, Lyrikh.
I’m still trying to decide which is the more preferable side of five in the morning to be on. Waking up to it of course, you say. But is it?
Waking up at five in the morning and knowing you have to, I’m sure is a pain. It means you have to go to bed that much earlier, (unless you think you’re superhuman), thus cutting into your social or relaxing at home time. People aren’t really awake at five in the morning, even if we were meant to be once upon a time. I do appreciate all the bakers and farmers and truck and bus drivers who make that sacrifice though.
I however usually find myself on the other side of five A.M. It would be one thing if I had a night job that kept me up until five, and all I need do on my return home was sleep, but I have no such job. I am just awake, without any rhyme or reason for it. If that sounds exciting to you, you should try it for a week and get back to me.
And of course, it’s not as if I just fall asleep afterward either. If I haven’t slept at all,, that usually is the point at which I am beyond frustrated. I think I should find productive things to do, but that would only encourage the behavior. And it’s at about that point when the rest of the house starts to wake up and I am finally sleepy. But of course since people know I don’t sleep, they choose this time to need my attention.
I really need to stop telling people that I don’t sleep.

What’s On Your Easel?

How do you paint passion?
I often think about how certain ideas or emotions would look if they could be looked at. Some, like love, have such popularized symbols that we hardly question them. When most children think love they think hearts. Of course the shape of a heart is different than an actual blood pumping heart, and a few of the stories of how the heart got its shape are not terribly romantic. But how would you paint things that don’t have a universal image already?
Whenever I write about my emotions and how a certain something makes me feel, I have to give images. Not actual images, but word pictures like metaphor and similly. I am all about words as I’ve said before, but somethings you just can’t write out in nice gramatically correct sentences. Sometimes colors work for me.
So what color would your passion be? Pink? Red? Purple? I rather like the idea of purple passion. Purple is rare, purple is the color of royalty, purple is the color of bruising.

Brief Fusion

Hot sticky cloying heat. Thick syrup, still, unstirred by breezes.
Hands under a cold stream of water as they rinse the cup.
Droplets drip dripping from finger tips.
Rising cool from the tray of frozen cubes.
Sticking; sticking frozen cubes to dripping finger tips. Sticking, freezing.
A brief fusing kiss then release.
Holding , dropping
Liquid, popping.
A cool drink.

Interrupting Cat … Purrr

Cats, dogs and Children are like heffalumps and woozles.
If you’ve ever had to watch, live with, or have owned any, you know what I mean. It only takes two of any combination to make one think they have significantly multiplied, whenever they are in a state of high excitement. You’d probably think this is more true of dogs and children, but Oh no. Cats are just as multiplicitous.
Have you ever noticed how cats are impervious to space and time and can slip in and out of almost anywhere? This seems to be in line with when and where the resident human or food getter wants or does not want them.
Like when you are ready to just collapse in to your nice bed after a long day and there’s a cat on your pillow; or when you are in the middle of an online exchange or writing a paper/other important document and suddenly a cat with strategic paws slinks across your keyboard; or my personal fave, when you are sitting doing anything, anything at all with your hands, and there is suddenly a cat in your lap–I am here, you may pet me now. This happens a lot when I am crafting.
This is probably how they manage to multiply as well. There are two here and most nights when they are climbing over my bed I could swear we have at least five. A magician could learn a thing or two from a cat. Or perhaps this is why they are often pictured as familiars.
This morning our big panther had the honored title of alarm cat when he climbed in to my bed and nuzzled his head in to my arm, meowing all the way. I still have no clue what he wanted, since he had been fed already and he showed no interest in the window. He left as soon as I was definitely awake. Sighs.
And the other one … She very much likes to sit on my keyboard and cause havic with whatever screen I’ve got up at the time. She is very generous though, and will happily lay over any part of my person that happens to be exposed to the sun.
Then of course if ever you should want your cats for any kind of nonfood related activity, they are nowhere to be found. Nowhere! I’ve always suspected that cats knew the secret to Narnia.
So there you have it,cats truly are the masters of allusion … the original heffalumps and woozles.