Dance-off #4

I just love him.

Gardening

I have nothing new to tell or offer you today, or not just now at least. I do, however, have a question: How do I start a garden? It is getting to that time of the year, and I have no idea what to plant or when or how to take care of it or ANYTHING. I live in southwestern Colorado; other than that, I can't tell you about the dirt. Our backyard is freakin' tiny and faces West, so it really only gets half-day sun. The only things I really want are a couple of tomato plants and some herbs like rosemary, mint, and basil. Other than that... things that are easy to grow/hard to kill, yummy, and won't really make much more than two people can eat and/or freeze. (I'm don't want to can stuff.)

Help! If you have any good blogs or websites to recommend, or just plain ol' advice for a first-time gardener, please leave comments here!

I wrote a poem

So, clearly the "poem a day" thing didn't last too long here. I went back and tagged the early posts with "poetry" in addition to "poem a day," as well as the successive randomly-posted poems, too. Poems by other people are tagged as "guest poets."

Here is one I wrote for my class of 7th-graders for our Africa unit. They've read and researched about some pretty hardcore stuff, both on the internet and in books, and in poem form. I consciously included specific figurative language like similes, onomatapoeia, and sensory detail; also, I used some different line breaks and punctuation to show them the possibilities for writing poetry are nearly endless.

Famine

My tongue is swollen,
my throat as dry as the desert all around me.
When there is water to drink
in careful, slow drips,
it only makes my insides twist and cramp
until I hurt too much
to even cry.

I am small,
too small to fight for food.
Other children, bigger children, shout and push and
scramble to pick
specks
of
grain
out
of
dung,
or a flaky tree root
from the earth,
(earth: Mother,
betrayer)
and gobble them down.
I only watch and wither away,
my belly growing bigger each day.

My parents: dead.
no prayers or spells
or medicine
(if we could buy it)
could have saved them.
My sister: dead.
I carried her everywhere,
her little legs too tiny,
like dried twigs,
to walk.
One day her rattling breath stopped, and
I put her down
and didn't look back.

What would have been the point?

I am a bubble on the surface
of a cup
of water,
dirty and sickly.
A bubble too small
and insignificant
to notice.
I live only a moment,
then

POP

I am gone.

Dance-off #3

From Shall We Dance?



Love it, love it! Less impressive dancing (but way more impressive costuming--the feathers!) here in Top Hat, one of my favorite musical songs from one of my favorite musicals.

Dance-off #2

Does anyone else want to participate?

Dance-off

Meet Me At Mike's has been taken over by her friends for a couple of weeks while Pip is busy-busy-busy, and they started a "dance-off" between the two of them by posting YouTube videos of dances on the blog. Inspired by this, I challenge you, dear readers, to a dance-off! Post videos of whatever dance tickles your fancy, whether it's from a music video, a "how to" with steps and instructions, something from a musical, or one of those silly viral videos everyone's seen.

Round One:



Who will challenge me?

When I'm 64

Guest poets again today!

When I'm Sixty Four

by J. Lennon, P. McCartney

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine,
Birthday greeting, bottle of wine.
If I'd been out till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

You'll be older too,
Ah, and if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fire side,
Sunday mornings, go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

Ev'ry summer we can rent a cottage on the Isle of Wight
If it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save.
Ah, grandchildren on your knee,
Vera, Chuck and Dave.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line
Stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
You're sincerely wasting away.
Give me your answer, fill in a form,
Mine forever more,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

***

I sang this to Matt (and a bunch of other people!) in the kareoke room at our senior party, held in the Elks Lodge and put on by seniors' parents. I think it was casino-themed. After a false start and a bit of a shaking voice, I did fairly well, I think. It's been one of "our songs" since then.

<3



From left to right, it's bass, "guitar" (which seems to be playing the clarinet, or whatever that wind instrument is), and drums, with the words for the singer going across the top. We're.... not quite that good at our Beatles Rock Band yet, but it's still fun!

Hero's Journey

The same story
has been told a thousand
million times.

The young hero on a quest,
friends at his side,
or hers.

Whether she's really a princess
raised by fairies or farmers,
or the son of a dead king,
or just a kid with an interesting scar
or a sweet tooth,
the journey is always one
of self-discovery.

How much can he take?
How much can she trust?
How much pain can he bear?
How much loss?

One friend (sidekick) turns betrayer,
Maybe one becomes a love interest,
one is the steadfast and loyal companion
always,
always.

Seems the wise mentor always dies,
or at least goes away,
and there's always a point
when the hero is alone,
utterly,
to make her own shaky, head game-y way
for a while.
The reunions are so satisfying.

Destroy the magical ________,
Defeat the evil _________,
Save the __________,
Overcome darkness with
love
trust
friendship
light.

And they always do.

And we read it again.

Happy Sappy

Just some Valentine's Day sappiness for you!

I love my principal

Said in the staff meeting today: "I know it's at that point in the school year where you maybe start to wonder... would jail really be that bad?"