Yo

Yesterday I bought Chinese yo yo for a quater, just as a trip back to 5th grade. Then last night I realized. It came just in time for the Opening Ceremonies in Beijing. I should've got a bunch to give out!

Aquarium

Strange dreams with moustaches dragging
swim below small lights.
Like silent actors trapped on stage
they chase and swirl among scene props.
Draped in moods of ebony, scarlet, ivory
they practice again
their hot fights,
their cool snubs,
their smooches.
Then each bows deep, mutely glugging,
for the brown slow-motion snow
falling like applause.

Back to My Signature Animal

I've decided to own it, as they say, because maybe it's an okay thing after all, and anyway it's just someone's odd idea. So I've done a compare and contrast study of the matter:

They have feelers. I have feelings and--how do you say?--terrific dectection capabilities. They can bite when frightened. Me, too. Watch out. They live in communities called “hills,” or sometimes in a "farm." I live in a house, in a valley. They have six legs. I have two sillies. They like popcorn. Me, too.

Well, some things we share in common.

Smashing

There was a bug on me in Relief Society, and I smashed it after letting out a quiet yelp. I could do this because it was crawling on my capable hand, within reach of my thumb. Anywhere else and I wouldn't have been able to reach it. As it was, I squished its dark guts out of its green body. Not exactly fair repayment for causing me to itch in various unreasonable places throughout church, a trifle harsh, but I saw no other choice. I wasn't about to continue hosting the dratted thing. So I killed it in the Relief Society room, on the Sabbath, and without significant remorse.

Portrait of Aunt Goole, by Shanalee

Shanalee says to Aunt Teresa:

"I drew a picture for Aunt Julie. I hope you will get the letter. I love you. I hope you will have a good time. Julie is okay. Show this to Shay and Cade. I love you very much. 'Bye."

Privileges

So we're in church yesterday and my niece, Marli (3), is visiting, right? And we're waiting for Sacrament Meeting to start. She leans over to me and says with happy blue eyes, “You get to sit by me.”

Mmm, good?

I used to eat my popcorn out of the butter bowl. Actually, this was back when margerine was “in,” so I guess it was the margerine bowl. After Mom melted and poured the carcinogen over the big bowl of popcorn, she filled the margerine-coated small bowl with popcorn and gave it to me. This is not an accusation. I begged for it, and she figured I needed the calories. (I was an extremely picky eater.) Every kernel was drenched, my friends. Soggy. It was delicious. Sure hope it doesn't come back to bite me.