"Remember my turtle, the one we rescued? The one that got run over?" It is a stretch to go back over all of those years, sort through all of those turtles moved to safety, out of harms path, always moving them along in the same direction they were going, so they didn't have to turn around and start all over again.
What made this turtle special was my daughter's innocent idealism. It is difficult to ignore a passionate three-year-old in the throes ofdetermination. She had learned her lesson in caring well, and was about to learn an even harder one now. Or so I thought.
"He's dying," I told her gently. "NO HE'S NOT!" she screamed, tears splashing down swollen cheeks; boogers bubbling out of her nose and onto he lips. "Let's move him into the ditch," I suggest. "Let's take him home," she insisted!
This turtle had been creased down the middle, cracked in half. Not a happy camper. None of us were at this point. Putting him into an old burlap sack seemed to be adding insult to injury, and there is no kind description for the smell of a freaked out, broken turtle.
I pictured a somber funeral under the lilac bush. He wouldn't fit in a shoebox. I glanced over at my sweetie, lapping up traces of snot, eyes shiny bright like the world after a cloudburst. My heart is swelling with all of life's lessons that lay ahead.
This one became a lesson in faith. I expected the worst. She knew better. Put him in a tractor tire. Tended him. Named him. Loved him. Set him free.
Now, years later, she returns from a stroll around the pond with her boyfriend. "Remember my turtle?" I stare into the past. Time merges that headstrong tot with this confidant young woman. She smiles. "When his shell mended, it grew in the shape of a heart." The shape of possibilities.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
SUNDAY MORNING RANT
I like starting my Sunday mornings with my beloved Cully, & Charles Osgood. CBS News Sunday Morning is more palatable than most of the media onslaught generated now-a-days. Today Cully was in poke & push mode, titty twisters & wet willies, boogers & farts. I escaped the bed briefly to pee & make coffee... hoping the coffee would tame him. SNORT. As I type he is threatening spitballs and making fists, offering to rumble. Yup. Asshole mode is looming.
So Rachel Carson is featured, an homage to her foresight. GRRRRRRRRR!!! This woman of simple truth KNEW fifty years ago what the greedy bastards who run things are still in denial about. I remember reading her Silent Spring as an adolescent; it affirmed my consciousness about the splendor and wonder of this marvelous planet and the stewardship necessary to ensure a thriving future for all beings, not just the most self-serving of humans. Here are a few of her quotes:
"If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life."
"For all at last returns to the sea ~ to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the everflowing stream of time, the beginning and the end."
"Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life."
"If facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and the impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow."
"If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in."
"It is a wholesome and necessary thing for us to turn again to the earth and in the contemplation of her beauties to know of wonder and humility."
"Only within the moment of time represented by the present century has one species ~ man ~ acquired significant power to alter the nature of his world."
"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts."
"Like the resource it seeks to protect, wildlife conservation must be dynamic, changing as conditions change, seeking always to become more effective."
We wonder what's gone wrong, why we seem to be losing respect for each other & life itself. I lay, ears filling with tears. Mankind, especially in this society, is losing touch with nature. Instead of feasting on God's bounty, grown in the backyard & lovingly prepared, we chow down chemically laden corporately produced profit driven CRAP. We drive a block to buy something we would have made for ourselves just a few generations ago.
Who takes the time to lay on the ground, smelling the earth & the grass, staring at the wonderment of the stars? Who bothers to notice a neighbor in need, of help or resources or even just some simple attention. Who can afford to even care anymore? Because it feels like it's just too late to turn things around, and perhaps the planet would be better off without us.
So Rachel Carson is featured, an homage to her foresight. GRRRRRRRRR!!! This woman of simple truth KNEW fifty years ago what the greedy bastards who run things are still in denial about. I remember reading her Silent Spring as an adolescent; it affirmed my consciousness about the splendor and wonder of this marvelous planet and the stewardship necessary to ensure a thriving future for all beings, not just the most self-serving of humans. Here are a few of her quotes:
"If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life."
"For all at last returns to the sea ~ to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the everflowing stream of time, the beginning and the end."
"Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life."
"If facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and the impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow."
"If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in."
"It is a wholesome and necessary thing for us to turn again to the earth and in the contemplation of her beauties to know of wonder and humility."
"Only within the moment of time represented by the present century has one species ~ man ~ acquired significant power to alter the nature of his world."
"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts."
"Like the resource it seeks to protect, wildlife conservation must be dynamic, changing as conditions change, seeking always to become more effective."
We wonder what's gone wrong, why we seem to be losing respect for each other & life itself. I lay, ears filling with tears. Mankind, especially in this society, is losing touch with nature. Instead of feasting on God's bounty, grown in the backyard & lovingly prepared, we chow down chemically laden corporately produced profit driven CRAP. We drive a block to buy something we would have made for ourselves just a few generations ago.
Who takes the time to lay on the ground, smelling the earth & the grass, staring at the wonderment of the stars? Who bothers to notice a neighbor in need, of help or resources or even just some simple attention. Who can afford to even care anymore? Because it feels like it's just too late to turn things around, and perhaps the planet would be better off without us.
LIFE IS GOOD
The day is as gray & bleak as I feel. A day stuck halfway betwixt winter & spring. There is a moment of respite as I pout, waiting in the parking lot of the grocery store. This car is way too small for the two of us, and I'm more than relieved to have it to myself. Stewing, I am. Stewing because HE loves to talk yet can't seem to listen. Stewing because I haven't been able to complete one sentence in the past hour and a half.
A flock of people leave the store. One catches my eye. A man. Jaunty, attractive, young, he has a special spring to his step. The eye-catching part is the two bouquets of lush flowers coned in sparkling plastic.
Not one but TWO.
What sort of guy buys two big bouquets?
What in the world is he up to?
There is an intensity about this guy as he heads for the car directly infront of me. Tis a small red Chrysler, not old, not new. The bucket seats are covered in a grayish fake fur. The two bouquets do not go together. They are altogether different, not a mix & match sort of deal.
He opens the car door, and doesn't get in.
Instead, he gently lays a rainbow of spring flowers on the driver's seat, and closes the door.
My curiosity is ablaze as he sprints to his Pearly Silver Truck, clutching fancy purple lilies, and peals out.
What in the world?
Rather than heading for the exit, he slithers alongside the building, backing into an employee parking spot.
Oh my, I'm the voyeur extraordinaire.
I can barely see him, as he lies in wait.
In my mind's eye, a lovely young woman comes out of the store. Does he know her?
Well, he must if he leaves flowers in her car. He wouldn't be stalking some stranger florally, could he? She will push her cart to the car, and voila! A smile of delight springs to her lips. In my mind's eye.
My focus flickers between the storefront, and my mysteryman.
A dowdy woman with a bunch of little kids. nope.
A graying lady carrying a loaf of bread. nope.
A cluster of nondescript folk dispersing in all directions.
I look back at the stalker, and am alarmed to see him pulling out of his spot. Did I miss something? I have not seen any gorgeous young babes, the sort that find flowers bestowed so impulsively.
My attention is jerked back by the ancient old man who totters before me.He is leaning heavily upon his cane as his gnarled fingers struggle with the car door. My eyes move sideways, directly into the eyes of the kind young man who has pulled into the fire lane & stopped. The range of emotions that cross his face are earthshattering. In the end though, the one that shouts out is LOVE.
There is a movement of red as the old man finally opens the door. I am transfixed as he starts into the car, and then jerks back in confusion. His head snaps up, looking about with the most amazing expression on his face. I look as well, only to catch a flash of silver curling into traffic, a minnow in a stream.
This gentleman is stunned. And baffled. He blinks big huge blinks behind thick glasses, as if something would appear to him if he could only blink hard enough. His lips open and close, like a hungry guppy. Finally, he bobs down to pick up the flowers, holding them to his face as he pulls himself upright again. He looks about one last time, then back at the flowers.
It is now apparent that the blinking is essential as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. He stands for the longest time, looking deep inside to a space that is only his. I feel so honored to be here. So moved by this simple display of humanity. And then he slowly folds himself into the car, and drives out of my life.
Well, isn't that something? In just a few moments I've been humbled, seen the good side of people. My faith is restored, and I am suddenly contrite at how selfish & shallow I'd been. I smile to myself as I see my partner emerge from the store. Oh, there is a simple human level that we all share. Life is too short to hold grudges.
Rick ducks into the car, package in hand, and turns the key. I look at him, eager to share what I've seen. "guess what." I begin to say. "SHUT UP," he barks, " I NEED TO THINK!" I shrivel back into myself, nurtured by the simple little drama that I've witnessed. Life is good. Yep, life is good.
A flock of people leave the store. One catches my eye. A man. Jaunty, attractive, young, he has a special spring to his step. The eye-catching part is the two bouquets of lush flowers coned in sparkling plastic.
Not one but TWO.
What sort of guy buys two big bouquets?
What in the world is he up to?
There is an intensity about this guy as he heads for the car directly infront of me. Tis a small red Chrysler, not old, not new. The bucket seats are covered in a grayish fake fur. The two bouquets do not go together. They are altogether different, not a mix & match sort of deal.
He opens the car door, and doesn't get in.
Instead, he gently lays a rainbow of spring flowers on the driver's seat, and closes the door.
My curiosity is ablaze as he sprints to his Pearly Silver Truck, clutching fancy purple lilies, and peals out.
What in the world?
Rather than heading for the exit, he slithers alongside the building, backing into an employee parking spot.
Oh my, I'm the voyeur extraordinaire.
I can barely see him, as he lies in wait.
In my mind's eye, a lovely young woman comes out of the store. Does he know her?
Well, he must if he leaves flowers in her car. He wouldn't be stalking some stranger florally, could he? She will push her cart to the car, and voila! A smile of delight springs to her lips. In my mind's eye.
My focus flickers between the storefront, and my mysteryman.
A dowdy woman with a bunch of little kids. nope.
A graying lady carrying a loaf of bread. nope.
A cluster of nondescript folk dispersing in all directions.
I look back at the stalker, and am alarmed to see him pulling out of his spot. Did I miss something? I have not seen any gorgeous young babes, the sort that find flowers bestowed so impulsively.
My attention is jerked back by the ancient old man who totters before me.He is leaning heavily upon his cane as his gnarled fingers struggle with the car door. My eyes move sideways, directly into the eyes of the kind young man who has pulled into the fire lane & stopped. The range of emotions that cross his face are earthshattering. In the end though, the one that shouts out is LOVE.
There is a movement of red as the old man finally opens the door. I am transfixed as he starts into the car, and then jerks back in confusion. His head snaps up, looking about with the most amazing expression on his face. I look as well, only to catch a flash of silver curling into traffic, a minnow in a stream.
This gentleman is stunned. And baffled. He blinks big huge blinks behind thick glasses, as if something would appear to him if he could only blink hard enough. His lips open and close, like a hungry guppy. Finally, he bobs down to pick up the flowers, holding them to his face as he pulls himself upright again. He looks about one last time, then back at the flowers.
It is now apparent that the blinking is essential as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. He stands for the longest time, looking deep inside to a space that is only his. I feel so honored to be here. So moved by this simple display of humanity. And then he slowly folds himself into the car, and drives out of my life.
Well, isn't that something? In just a few moments I've been humbled, seen the good side of people. My faith is restored, and I am suddenly contrite at how selfish & shallow I'd been. I smile to myself as I see my partner emerge from the store. Oh, there is a simple human level that we all share. Life is too short to hold grudges.
Rick ducks into the car, package in hand, and turns the key. I look at him, eager to share what I've seen. "guess what." I begin to say. "SHUT UP," he barks, " I NEED TO THINK!" I shrivel back into myself, nurtured by the simple little drama that I've witnessed. Life is good. Yep, life is good.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
ICE CREAM, YOU SCREAM
i thought i would write about ice-cream. my favorite, way back when, was Spumoni, but i bet it's not easy to come by now, at least the good stuff. the Italian grocer beneath my apartment on Brady st. in Milwaukee 35 years ago had some real authentic Spumoni, and frozen Cannoli's that were to die for.
the only flavor of ice-cream i would currently refuse to eat is bubblegum. Rick the Prick, a particularly despicable mistake from my past, bought a 5 quart bucket of it once & then wouldn't let us have or buy any other flavors til we ate that up. it was in the freezer for at least a year, maybe more. totally disgusting, none of the kids would even eat it. we threw it out when he finally left.
my daughter Teale & i commonly have urges for nuts and chocolate. the ultimate was Ben & Jerry's Wavy Gravy, but they discontinued it... twas chock full of hazelnut and gooey fudgey stuff. i've written them a bunch of times begging them to reconsider, to no avail. i think i heard a rumor that they also discontinued Cherry Garcia, which is a shame too if true, because fruit & chocolate is also a very good thing. yup yup.
i remember the old Baskin Robbins days, i was loyal to their Jamocha Almond Fudge. that was a good thirty years ago. and Pistachio, what could be yummier than cool green pistachio? i do remember getting sick on Rum Raisin, my mom bought one of those HUGE tin cans of it from the Schwanns guy when i was a kid & nobody else would eat it so i ended up eating the whole friggen can mostly, eventually. i guess i am not inclined to ever have that again either.
i like the strawberry cheesecake from Kwik Trip tho it's a tad sweet. i adore cheesecake tho, mostly because it is richer than sugary. texture is very important to me. i used to make ice-cream commercially, for the pizza place i owned in New Jersey in the mid 70's, The Ruby Slipper. i could buy uber heavy cream from the local dairy for 10 cents a pint, would go buy fifty pints at a time. the flavors i was most partial to were our Honey Nut, and Toasted Coconut. my secret was heavy on the cream and light on the sugar.
we had a four big electric freezers for that, but i do remember hand cranking it as a kid every year on the fourth of July. usually that was plain ole vanilla, but there wasn't anything plain about it in my memory. and my mom would make the most amazing Hot Fudge, which i actually liked leftover cold even better, stolen one finger lick at a time out of her secret stash in the fridge. yup yup haven't tasted that in forever either, i have never made it tho it certainly is simple enough. i do believe it is simply sweetened condensed milk with lots of good chocolate melted in. or i heard once on the radio you can melt some vanilla ice-cream with some chocolate for the same effect.
by the way, i am sort of stuck on the phone with my ex (father of my 4 wonderful kids) who is hiccupping & trying to speak Dragon. if i were to make up an ice-cream i would start with some rich buttery Hickory Nut Pie made by this waitress named Sue in Leroy, and mix it in with some creamy Vanilla Custard. that pie is the best thing i have ever tasted bar none, much like Pecan but all the better because of the Hickory Nuts, and the love. i did have Shoefly Pie in Pennsylvania once, at a truckstop, after filling up on chicken livers & biscuits. Oh My GOD. what Sweet Agony... literally.
i remember as a kid my dad would promise us ice-cream after spending a day doing yardwork. he'd pile us in the old rusty white ford station wagon & drive into town to the Pines Drive-in. the choices were chocolate or vanilla or twist. twist was the best of both worlds i always thought. then it was a race to slurp it down as fast as the hot summer sun was melting it. the best bite was always the last one, that last bit of drenched honeycombed cone. the trick was to push it way down with your tongue so you didn't run out of ice-cream before you ran out of cone. remember that? i can't recall the last time i had an ice-cream cone. lick lick.
on main street Hartford (my home town) there were two drugstores with soda fountains. one had the high old fashioned stools that sun around, and the other modernized and put in a lower counter but the stools still spun. both places, Poole's and Chapmann's, had gobs of gum underneath the counters. an ice-cream cone was a nickel a scoop. i remember buying a double decker of butter pecan one day and walking out the door with it... damned ice-cream fell right off onto the sidewalk. that was the day Elvis died. bummer.
and when we were really little and such treats were extremely rare my dad would go through a long drawn out magical mime routine that would culminate in his threading a make believe needle with make believe string and threading it into one ear & out the other, then tying it in an elaborate bow on top of his head. then we would have to shout all sorts of abracadabra words and do whatever else he could contrive as he built the suspense to the max. the result was as completely magical as could be when finally he manifested a round yellow carton of KreeMee Vanilla ice-cream.
for my sixth birthday party, my mom took some of that same ice-cream and added a few drops of red food color & a few drops of peppermint extract. she'd mix it all creamy & pink & then scoop it into paper cupcake cups & refroze it til it was hard once again. decorated with candied violets & served with cake. i am starting to realize how much love and ice-cream have in common. it is a reward. i mean, nobody ever gets punished with ice-cream do they? "SHUT UP & EAT YOUR ICE-CREAM AND DON'T LEAVE THE TABLE UNTIL YOU ARE FINISHED!!!" ha ha ha. but then....
when i was in college i got a weekend babysitting job working for a Shorewood doctor. they had a half gallon of Butter Pecan ice-cream in the fridge. somehow i figured out that it was totally addictive with salt. sprinkle of salt, spoonful of ice-cream. sprinkle of salt, spoonful of ice-cream. i ate the entire thing. had to walk to the corner store and buy another carton. then i had to open it & eat the amount that was originally missing. oops, somehow that one got polished off as well. back to the store. i have conveniently forgotten how many times that happened but i have since lost the urge to binge, at least on ice-cream. i was mortified at my loss of control. self punishment i guess.
now-a-days, Teale & i can make a pint of Ben & Jerry's last for a week or more. we don't do it very often. if it is generic cheapo ice-cream, i prefer vanilla whilst she prefers chocolate. i adore sherbet, especially when i have a sore throat. and one of the things i cherished about Manhattan was Italian Ice. Culver's has an intense Lemon Ice in the summertime that is guaranteed to give this greedy sensation freak a blinding ice-cream headache... with chunks of Blackberry, or Strawberry, or Peach...
Blanche Eisenacher, the old lady down the road who was my surrogate gramma, used to indulge me once in a while when i visited her. her place was a haven for me & i would ride my bike there pretty often. the ice-cream was not frequent, and was all the more special because of that. she must have been scrimping always. she would make an entire ritual out of it. her table was covered with old worn oilcloth, and i loved going outside & pumping a new bucket of water for her which then sat on the kitchen counter with a long gray enameled ladle for drinking out of.
she had little green glass (depressionware) desert cups and it would take her forever to scoop a scoop into each one. then she would open a jar of wild blackberries she had put up and scoop some of those over the ice-cream. we would sit there together and savor every last bit. she would gossip about the neighbors and tell me stories about her childhood, and about taking the train to Minneapolis as a young woman to become a domestic. she met her husband Harry at a Saturday night dance. i remember sitting with him sometimes & listening to the Milwaukee Braves on the big old static-y radio in the front room, sun scattering through the white lace curtains. he was sort of scary tho, he was nearly deaf so he yelled mostly. LOL. when he died she was so forlorn.
so, that's about it for ice-cream, at least for now... Gee Willikers, i hope you have enjoyed my trip down memory lane.
smooch,
auntie hattie
the only flavor of ice-cream i would currently refuse to eat is bubblegum. Rick the Prick, a particularly despicable mistake from my past, bought a 5 quart bucket of it once & then wouldn't let us have or buy any other flavors til we ate that up. it was in the freezer for at least a year, maybe more. totally disgusting, none of the kids would even eat it. we threw it out when he finally left.
my daughter Teale & i commonly have urges for nuts and chocolate. the ultimate was Ben & Jerry's Wavy Gravy, but they discontinued it... twas chock full of hazelnut and gooey fudgey stuff. i've written them a bunch of times begging them to reconsider, to no avail. i think i heard a rumor that they also discontinued Cherry Garcia, which is a shame too if true, because fruit & chocolate is also a very good thing. yup yup.
i remember the old Baskin Robbins days, i was loyal to their Jamocha Almond Fudge. that was a good thirty years ago. and Pistachio, what could be yummier than cool green pistachio? i do remember getting sick on Rum Raisin, my mom bought one of those HUGE tin cans of it from the Schwanns guy when i was a kid & nobody else would eat it so i ended up eating the whole friggen can mostly, eventually. i guess i am not inclined to ever have that again either.
i like the strawberry cheesecake from Kwik Trip tho it's a tad sweet. i adore cheesecake tho, mostly because it is richer than sugary. texture is very important to me. i used to make ice-cream commercially, for the pizza place i owned in New Jersey in the mid 70's, The Ruby Slipper. i could buy uber heavy cream from the local dairy for 10 cents a pint, would go buy fifty pints at a time. the flavors i was most partial to were our Honey Nut, and Toasted Coconut. my secret was heavy on the cream and light on the sugar.
we had a four big electric freezers for that, but i do remember hand cranking it as a kid every year on the fourth of July. usually that was plain ole vanilla, but there wasn't anything plain about it in my memory. and my mom would make the most amazing Hot Fudge, which i actually liked leftover cold even better, stolen one finger lick at a time out of her secret stash in the fridge. yup yup haven't tasted that in forever either, i have never made it tho it certainly is simple enough. i do believe it is simply sweetened condensed milk with lots of good chocolate melted in. or i heard once on the radio you can melt some vanilla ice-cream with some chocolate for the same effect.
by the way, i am sort of stuck on the phone with my ex (father of my 4 wonderful kids) who is hiccupping & trying to speak Dragon. if i were to make up an ice-cream i would start with some rich buttery Hickory Nut Pie made by this waitress named Sue in Leroy, and mix it in with some creamy Vanilla Custard. that pie is the best thing i have ever tasted bar none, much like Pecan but all the better because of the Hickory Nuts, and the love. i did have Shoefly Pie in Pennsylvania once, at a truckstop, after filling up on chicken livers & biscuits. Oh My GOD. what Sweet Agony... literally.
i remember as a kid my dad would promise us ice-cream after spending a day doing yardwork. he'd pile us in the old rusty white ford station wagon & drive into town to the Pines Drive-in. the choices were chocolate or vanilla or twist. twist was the best of both worlds i always thought. then it was a race to slurp it down as fast as the hot summer sun was melting it. the best bite was always the last one, that last bit of drenched honeycombed cone. the trick was to push it way down with your tongue so you didn't run out of ice-cream before you ran out of cone. remember that? i can't recall the last time i had an ice-cream cone. lick lick.
on main street Hartford (my home town) there were two drugstores with soda fountains. one had the high old fashioned stools that sun around, and the other modernized and put in a lower counter but the stools still spun. both places, Poole's and Chapmann's, had gobs of gum underneath the counters. an ice-cream cone was a nickel a scoop. i remember buying a double decker of butter pecan one day and walking out the door with it... damned ice-cream fell right off onto the sidewalk. that was the day Elvis died. bummer.
and when we were really little and such treats were extremely rare my dad would go through a long drawn out magical mime routine that would culminate in his threading a make believe needle with make believe string and threading it into one ear & out the other, then tying it in an elaborate bow on top of his head. then we would have to shout all sorts of abracadabra words and do whatever else he could contrive as he built the suspense to the max. the result was as completely magical as could be when finally he manifested a round yellow carton of KreeMee Vanilla ice-cream.
for my sixth birthday party, my mom took some of that same ice-cream and added a few drops of red food color & a few drops of peppermint extract. she'd mix it all creamy & pink & then scoop it into paper cupcake cups & refroze it til it was hard once again. decorated with candied violets & served with cake. i am starting to realize how much love and ice-cream have in common. it is a reward. i mean, nobody ever gets punished with ice-cream do they? "SHUT UP & EAT YOUR ICE-CREAM AND DON'T LEAVE THE TABLE UNTIL YOU ARE FINISHED!!!" ha ha ha. but then....
when i was in college i got a weekend babysitting job working for a Shorewood doctor. they had a half gallon of Butter Pecan ice-cream in the fridge. somehow i figured out that it was totally addictive with salt. sprinkle of salt, spoonful of ice-cream. sprinkle of salt, spoonful of ice-cream. i ate the entire thing. had to walk to the corner store and buy another carton. then i had to open it & eat the amount that was originally missing. oops, somehow that one got polished off as well. back to the store. i have conveniently forgotten how many times that happened but i have since lost the urge to binge, at least on ice-cream. i was mortified at my loss of control. self punishment i guess.
now-a-days, Teale & i can make a pint of Ben & Jerry's last for a week or more. we don't do it very often. if it is generic cheapo ice-cream, i prefer vanilla whilst she prefers chocolate. i adore sherbet, especially when i have a sore throat. and one of the things i cherished about Manhattan was Italian Ice. Culver's has an intense Lemon Ice in the summertime that is guaranteed to give this greedy sensation freak a blinding ice-cream headache... with chunks of Blackberry, or Strawberry, or Peach...
Blanche Eisenacher, the old lady down the road who was my surrogate gramma, used to indulge me once in a while when i visited her. her place was a haven for me & i would ride my bike there pretty often. the ice-cream was not frequent, and was all the more special because of that. she must have been scrimping always. she would make an entire ritual out of it. her table was covered with old worn oilcloth, and i loved going outside & pumping a new bucket of water for her which then sat on the kitchen counter with a long gray enameled ladle for drinking out of.
she had little green glass (depressionware) desert cups and it would take her forever to scoop a scoop into each one. then she would open a jar of wild blackberries she had put up and scoop some of those over the ice-cream. we would sit there together and savor every last bit. she would gossip about the neighbors and tell me stories about her childhood, and about taking the train to Minneapolis as a young woman to become a domestic. she met her husband Harry at a Saturday night dance. i remember sitting with him sometimes & listening to the Milwaukee Braves on the big old static-y radio in the front room, sun scattering through the white lace curtains. he was sort of scary tho, he was nearly deaf so he yelled mostly. LOL. when he died she was so forlorn.
so, that's about it for ice-cream, at least for now... Gee Willikers, i hope you have enjoyed my trip down memory lane.
smooch,
auntie hattie
I WAS & WAS NOT LIKE HIM
OK, so I wrote this to a guy who was pursuing me a couple of years ago, before I found the love of my life. Thank God he showed his true colors almost immediately by responding with alleged delight that I had pegged him, then immediately posted it to his profile on AFF where we had met. (((duh))) Jerk.
***********************************************
my guess... we have this and more in common:
our pendulum swings wide; high highs, low lows..... anything but the middle.
average has no appeal, & to be considered such would be an insult; to settle for such would be a sin (if we believed in sin).
we hit jaded a while back and forge on, crafting disillusion into a seductive artform.
we are magnetic to the extreme; attracting and repulsing; being attracted and becoming repulsed... or bored.
boredom is a deadly place to be avoided at all costs; we'd sooner spend time at a leper colony, which would be anything but boring to our perverse sense of humanity.
we are TOO MUCH to contain and often spill over into people's comfort zone's.
we don't know when to shut up, or rather we do but fail to do so because of a compulsion to be heard.
we could easily be emotional vampires and commit major soul-suckage but for the fact that self respect ranks high.
we have so much to give that it actually HURTS not to have someone to receive us on the same level.
our light shines BRIGHT and we especially like using it to explore dark forbidden places.
we both love and loathe who we are... there is some shame in settling for less than our potential, for kowtowing to society even a little.
we connect quickly and completely, but unplug as soon as we figure out there's not enough spiritual voltage available to sustain us.
the more visible we are on the surface the more invisible we become innerly.
there is a primally lonely void that gnaws within, a faminous hunger we cannot placate by socially conventional means.
although we believe our dearest desire is to find our match & be completely understood, that just might be more truth than even we could bear to face.
i am like & unlike the countless others
***********************************************
my guess... we have this and more in common:
our pendulum swings wide; high highs, low lows..... anything but the middle.
average has no appeal, & to be considered such would be an insult; to settle for such would be a sin (if we believed in sin).
we hit jaded a while back and forge on, crafting disillusion into a seductive artform.
we are magnetic to the extreme; attracting and repulsing; being attracted and becoming repulsed... or bored.
boredom is a deadly place to be avoided at all costs; we'd sooner spend time at a leper colony, which would be anything but boring to our perverse sense of humanity.
we are TOO MUCH to contain and often spill over into people's comfort zone's.
we don't know when to shut up, or rather we do but fail to do so because of a compulsion to be heard.
we could easily be emotional vampires and commit major soul-suckage but for the fact that self respect ranks high.
we have so much to give that it actually HURTS not to have someone to receive us on the same level.
our light shines BRIGHT and we especially like using it to explore dark forbidden places.
we both love and loathe who we are... there is some shame in settling for less than our potential, for kowtowing to society even a little.
we connect quickly and completely, but unplug as soon as we figure out there's not enough spiritual voltage available to sustain us.
the more visible we are on the surface the more invisible we become innerly.
there is a primally lonely void that gnaws within, a faminous hunger we cannot placate by socially conventional means.
although we believe our dearest desire is to find our match & be completely understood, that just might be more truth than even we could bear to face.
i am like & unlike the countless others
GRUNTY MEN
My beloved partner Cully is all boy, especially enamoured with bodily functions & how to have fun with them, or have fun talking about them. Yup yup. We do spend plenty of time giggling about the most inappropriate stuff. His dear departed mother, Odessa, potty trained him most properly fifty some years ago by encouraging him to make "Grunty Men". Today we proudly carry on the tradition of "Grunty Men" & "Grunty Gals", and under the covers in the dark of night... "Grunty Ghosts"... and they are real stinkers, let me tell you!
APPLE HATTIE
the ablution of splashing of water over fruit is a baptism of sorts, a blessing, a moment of appreciation for the miracle of creation & the cycle of life; and my part in that. tis affirming. i used to pick the biggest most perfect beautiful colorful apple, but over the course of 50 some years i have learned to choose the one that needs & desires eating. it may be bruised or malformed or discolored or smallish or just lonely. it's always pleased to be chosen & i feel appreciated, which is vital.
so, we are communing, this apple and me and our beloved mutual creator. a long while ago, i would have dried & burnished it to gleaming perfection with one of my mother's soft white cotton floursack dishtowels. now i prefer to kiss the droplets away slowly & reverently. i caress the skin with the tip of my tongue, enjoying the smooth texture and anticipatory energy of our merging. cupping this precious ripened fruit in my capable hands, my pleasure is heightened by the turgid nature of it's form.
the spent blossom winks from the puckered bottom. therein a fulfillment of purpose conveys the pleasure of a job well done. no pining for moonlit budding, nor for the swelling sundrenched blush, the heady scent luring birds and bees to engage in an age old ritual. yup the plant kingdom is ultimately too laid back to fuck, leaving the dirtywork to the insect whores, then bearing the fruits of their labors. literally.
CHOMP! so much for the blossom end of things. crisp moist flesh contrasts with yielding skin, juice spurting forth. the fragrance is breathtaking. *sigh* i nibble my way upward to the core, savoring each morsel, ultimately to unearth one by one each precious seed tucked into it's own niche. every seed a potential tree. how awesome is that? all the more pleasure as i tickle them free with my excited tongue, drawing each sensuously into my hungry mouth. slowly i masticate them, ever so intently one after the other, groking fully their ultimate sacrifice. (shussshhh you! ...despoiler of a gal's fanciful seed fetish!)
as i progress beyond the core, the round lush curve that remains is savored, dangling aquiver from the stem. the vestigial umbilical cord that once nurtured this wonderment remains in my fingers as i lick the sweet moisture from my blissful lips. the stem alone is spared.
smooch,
Apple Hattie
so, we are communing, this apple and me and our beloved mutual creator. a long while ago, i would have dried & burnished it to gleaming perfection with one of my mother's soft white cotton floursack dishtowels. now i prefer to kiss the droplets away slowly & reverently. i caress the skin with the tip of my tongue, enjoying the smooth texture and anticipatory energy of our merging. cupping this precious ripened fruit in my capable hands, my pleasure is heightened by the turgid nature of it's form.
the spent blossom winks from the puckered bottom. therein a fulfillment of purpose conveys the pleasure of a job well done. no pining for moonlit budding, nor for the swelling sundrenched blush, the heady scent luring birds and bees to engage in an age old ritual. yup the plant kingdom is ultimately too laid back to fuck, leaving the dirtywork to the insect whores, then bearing the fruits of their labors. literally.
CHOMP! so much for the blossom end of things. crisp moist flesh contrasts with yielding skin, juice spurting forth. the fragrance is breathtaking. *sigh* i nibble my way upward to the core, savoring each morsel, ultimately to unearth one by one each precious seed tucked into it's own niche. every seed a potential tree. how awesome is that? all the more pleasure as i tickle them free with my excited tongue, drawing each sensuously into my hungry mouth. slowly i masticate them, ever so intently one after the other, groking fully their ultimate sacrifice. (shussshhh you! ...despoiler of a gal's fanciful seed fetish!)
as i progress beyond the core, the round lush curve that remains is savored, dangling aquiver from the stem. the vestigial umbilical cord that once nurtured this wonderment remains in my fingers as i lick the sweet moisture from my blissful lips. the stem alone is spared.
smooch,
Apple Hattie
SARDINE LOVE
sardine love; a two way street
nestled closely, head to feet
a fate of headless wonderment
minds agog, bodies yet spent
in dreams of flesh fishishly oiled
with the juice of loins well toiled
the square security of tin
holding lusty us within
pressed together in desire
the possibilities inspire
one to wonder what may be
if only we might find the key
*smiles* at the chum of her affection
hoping he will swallow her jiggy poem
...hook line and sinker
nestled closely, head to feet
a fate of headless wonderment
minds agog, bodies yet spent
in dreams of flesh fishishly oiled
with the juice of loins well toiled
the square security of tin
holding lusty us within
pressed together in desire
the possibilities inspire
one to wonder what may be
if only we might find the key
*smiles* at the chum of her affection
hoping he will swallow her jiggy poem
...hook line and sinker
NUDE FOOD
Thanks to the influence of my favorite son-in-law Yoda (InfoIdolatry) I now have a spot to park my vignettes, poems, and other ramblings. Hopefully this will inspire me to write (anything) on a more regular basis.
"The Naked Goddess Show" refers to the fact that I live nude, for the most part, and in particular nearly all of the cooking in our home is done wearing nothing but goosebumps. Plans for a Naked Goddess Cookbook have been in the works for a long while, thus my intention is also to post irreverent recipes, perhaps on an adjunct page. Beyond irreverent really, they are kinda naughty... go figure.
Nude Food: Stay Tuned!
smooches,
Auntie Hattie
"The Naked Goddess Show" refers to the fact that I live nude, for the most part, and in particular nearly all of the cooking in our home is done wearing nothing but goosebumps. Plans for a Naked Goddess Cookbook have been in the works for a long while, thus my intention is also to post irreverent recipes, perhaps on an adjunct page. Beyond irreverent really, they are kinda naughty... go figure.
Nude Food: Stay Tuned!
smooches,
Auntie Hattie
Friday, April 20, 2007
LOVE QUOTES
was browsing through m' thesaurus
& came upon these sweet tidbits under LOVE:
"Our highest word and the synonym of God"
~Ralph Waldo Emerson~
"An alliance of friendship & animalism"
~Charles Colton~
"Friendship set on fire"
~Jeremy Taylor~
"Spiritual fire"
~Emanuel Swedenborg~
"Two minds without a single thought"
~Philip Barry~
"A perpetual hyperbole"
~Francis Bacon~
"The heart's immortal thirst to be completely known & all forgiven"
~Henry Van Dyke~
...sweet, eh?
& came upon these sweet tidbits under LOVE:
"Our highest word and the synonym of God"
~Ralph Waldo Emerson~
"An alliance of friendship & animalism"
~Charles Colton~
"Friendship set on fire"
~Jeremy Taylor~
"Spiritual fire"
~Emanuel Swedenborg~
"Two minds without a single thought"
~Philip Barry~
"A perpetual hyperbole"
~Francis Bacon~
"The heart's immortal thirst to be completely known & all forgiven"
~Henry Van Dyke~
...sweet, eh?
THE THRILL OF A LIFETIME
It was a big ole bruiser of a car, way back then. Way back, when little boys were out in the world being loud & getting dirty. The old cruiser was cherished unconditionally, as men are wont to do with their toys. The little boy was cherished unconditionally, as mothers are wont to do with their boys. Thank the Lord.
This day was a blessing. The sun lurked, creeping back from a weeks vacation, peeking from behind clouds to see if it was welcome. It was. This little boy would be confined no longer. His mother's heart sang a song of joy... the Hallelujah Chorus if truth be known. Muddy floors & clothes be damned.
Now this day had been anticipated & planned for. A clever boy, he hadn't wasted time pouting and moping. Rather, he had built various and assorted boats, trying them out in the sink until they were seaworthy, or at least puddleworthy. He was the captain of this armada, crafted from assorted junk gleaned from nooks and crannies. And he was itching to take on the world.
But wait! He had laid by supplies as well. A jelly jar filled with kerosene, snitched while his mom was busy, stashed in his boot. Two partial books of matches. One salvaged from the depths of the couch. One stolen from his dad while he snoozed off a few bottles of Blatz Beer. These were hidden in his box of dead bugs where his mom NEVER trespassed.
He preferred sturdy wooden kitchen matches, felt a thrill when they flared to life. His mom wasn't a complete idiot however, and kept them safely stowed. Not about to be out maneuvered, he spent illicit moments studying his dad's matchlighting techniques. Holding onto that magical bit of cardboard tightly, hands cupped just so. Just so thrilled when he finally got the hang of it, heart thumping at nearly burned fingers.
And dumb luck was on his side as well, for he wasn't even old enough to read the warning "close cover before striking", much less know better than to practice his pyromanic skills in the closet. Yes, luck and God had gotten him to this point. Now fate stepped up & took his hand. "Let's go out & play" she whispered in his eager ear. And so they did.
There, out front, in the street, the rain had left a miniature ocean. Textured & colored by the sky's reflection, shimmering with rainbow swirls of gasoline & oil. Hidden from his mother's view by his neighbors hulking Hudson, he was nearly delirious with anticipation. He knew better than to touch that massive pride & joy, having tested each limit life had offered up to him by trial & error.
He set his fleet to sail, arranged just so, ready to do battle. Scampering to & fro with assorted props, firing off spitball canons, spewing sound effects. He spilled his hoard of kerosene onto the water, mesmerized by his vision of the grand finale. Anticipation brought him to a frenzy of adrenalin.
It isn't difficult to imagine the moments before the climax. His little fingers quaked as he pulled the matches from his pocket. The wind puffed out several as he crouched intently, his hands cupped. He turned the other way, not about to be thwarted. His face glowed with excitement as he set blaze to that vast puddle of possibilities.
"BOOM" he cried, imagining the screams of terror as make-believe mariners realized their destiny. Shrieking as he ran back & forth, watching his ships incinerate. Totally focused on his fiery drama. Totally caught up in the moment. Totally drawn into his own private world, a world that he ruled.
KA-BOOM!!! The climax was so much huger than he could have imagined! The neighbor's wonderful old car now a vast ball of flames, thanks to a leaky gas tank. That little boy hit the bushes full speed ahead, his heart beating like a metronome cranked to the max, marking time as his name echoed through the neighborhood, long into the twighlight. A part of him lurks there still, pondering the thrill of a lifetime.
~finis~
This day was a blessing. The sun lurked, creeping back from a weeks vacation, peeking from behind clouds to see if it was welcome. It was. This little boy would be confined no longer. His mother's heart sang a song of joy... the Hallelujah Chorus if truth be known. Muddy floors & clothes be damned.
Now this day had been anticipated & planned for. A clever boy, he hadn't wasted time pouting and moping. Rather, he had built various and assorted boats, trying them out in the sink until they were seaworthy, or at least puddleworthy. He was the captain of this armada, crafted from assorted junk gleaned from nooks and crannies. And he was itching to take on the world.
But wait! He had laid by supplies as well. A jelly jar filled with kerosene, snitched while his mom was busy, stashed in his boot. Two partial books of matches. One salvaged from the depths of the couch. One stolen from his dad while he snoozed off a few bottles of Blatz Beer. These were hidden in his box of dead bugs where his mom NEVER trespassed.
He preferred sturdy wooden kitchen matches, felt a thrill when they flared to life. His mom wasn't a complete idiot however, and kept them safely stowed. Not about to be out maneuvered, he spent illicit moments studying his dad's matchlighting techniques. Holding onto that magical bit of cardboard tightly, hands cupped just so. Just so thrilled when he finally got the hang of it, heart thumping at nearly burned fingers.
And dumb luck was on his side as well, for he wasn't even old enough to read the warning "close cover before striking", much less know better than to practice his pyromanic skills in the closet. Yes, luck and God had gotten him to this point. Now fate stepped up & took his hand. "Let's go out & play" she whispered in his eager ear. And so they did.
There, out front, in the street, the rain had left a miniature ocean. Textured & colored by the sky's reflection, shimmering with rainbow swirls of gasoline & oil. Hidden from his mother's view by his neighbors hulking Hudson, he was nearly delirious with anticipation. He knew better than to touch that massive pride & joy, having tested each limit life had offered up to him by trial & error.
He set his fleet to sail, arranged just so, ready to do battle. Scampering to & fro with assorted props, firing off spitball canons, spewing sound effects. He spilled his hoard of kerosene onto the water, mesmerized by his vision of the grand finale. Anticipation brought him to a frenzy of adrenalin.
It isn't difficult to imagine the moments before the climax. His little fingers quaked as he pulled the matches from his pocket. The wind puffed out several as he crouched intently, his hands cupped. He turned the other way, not about to be thwarted. His face glowed with excitement as he set blaze to that vast puddle of possibilities.
"BOOM" he cried, imagining the screams of terror as make-believe mariners realized their destiny. Shrieking as he ran back & forth, watching his ships incinerate. Totally focused on his fiery drama. Totally caught up in the moment. Totally drawn into his own private world, a world that he ruled.
KA-BOOM!!! The climax was so much huger than he could have imagined! The neighbor's wonderful old car now a vast ball of flames, thanks to a leaky gas tank. That little boy hit the bushes full speed ahead, his heart beating like a metronome cranked to the max, marking time as his name echoed through the neighborhood, long into the twighlight. A part of him lurks there still, pondering the thrill of a lifetime.
~finis~
THE LITTLE RED ROOSTER
Foxy Joxy & Goosey Brucey
were sitting in the tulip garden
enjoying the spring air and a bit
of pink lemonade. Goosey Brucey
was looking through his purse for
a box of animal crackers when he
heard the leaves rustle.
Suddenly the Little Red Rooster
came popping out of the bushes,
bristling with excitement.
"Let's grow a great big organic
vegetable garden this year" he
squawked.
Foxy Joxy & Goosey Brucey
looked at each other. "We'll grow
the best produce in the world!"
clucked the Little Red Rooster.
"Won't that be fun?"
At first it was. they planned and
plowed. They planted & played.
"Hey, you're having too much fun"
the Little Red Rooster complained.
"Get back to work!"
One day Foxy Joxy was out in
the garden raking. "Hey, don't do
it that way, do it this way!" Guess
who. Pretty soon Foxy Joxy
got tired of working & went inside.
Then Goosey Brucey went out to
water the plants. "Don't pull the
hose that way! And don't forget
to do it again later" scolded the
Little Red Rooster. Luckily it rained
because Goosey Brucey didn't really
feel much like watering again.
"Hey! Let's make the garden bigger!"
exclaimed the Little Red Rooster.
"We can sell the extras & make piles
of money." Foxy Joxy & Goosey
Brucey looked at each other.
"I'll meet you in the garden at the
crack of dawn" hollered the Little
Red Rooster as he flew out the door.
"We'd better get to bed early" said
Goosey Brucey.
He & Foxy Joxy woke up to the
cock's crow and hurried out to the
garden. "What took you so long?"
grumbled the Little Red Rooster,
with his mouth full of bugs.
"I've been out here for hours!"
"I think I'll go back to bed" said
Foxy Joxy. "Me too" said Goosey
Brucey. The Little Red Rooster
stomped his foot. "I'll just do it
myself" he declared. And so he did.
They took a nap and then spent a
fun day at the beach. "I worked
by myself all day long" complained
the Little Red Rooster. "Good for
you" they answered, "good night."
And so it went all summer long.
The more the Little Red Rooster
complained, the less they helped.
"Who's going to help me eat this
zucchini?" asked the Little Red
Rooster. Foxy Joxy & Goosey
Brucey scurried off with a picnic
basket filled with peanut butter &
jelly sandwiches.
"Fine!" screamed the Little Red
Rooster. "I'll do it myself!"
He tried, he really tried. He ate
zucchini until he felt green. He
couldn't sell it, he couldn't even
give it away. "I'll put it in the
compost then" he said, & he did.
"My beak and feet are sore from
pecking bugs and scratching weeds."
hinted the Little Red Rooster. "Come
to the movies with us" invited his
friends. "I can't" he answered, "I
have to do all of this work myself"
and he stormed off.
Foxy Joxy & Goosey Brucey looked
at each other. "What should we do?"
They found the Little Red Rooster in
the garden tying up the tomatoes.
"Can we help?" they asked.
The Little Red Rooster didn't even
look at them. "I'll do it myself" he huffed.
Goosey Brucey & Foxy Joxy went off
to see a musical and eat popcorn. They
came home from a cool afternoon at the
theater to find the Little Red Rooster
sweating in the hot sun, hard at work.
"Would you like some help?" they asked
"Leave me alone" he muttered. And so
they did. "Maybe we should apologize"
said Foxy Joxy. "For what?" asked
Goosey Brucey. "I have no idea" said
Foxy Joxy.
The Little Red Rooster worked half the
night by the light of the moon, all by
himself. Soon the Little Red Rooster
had veggies coming out of his ears. He
didn't even have time to pick them. The
weeds grew faster than he could pull them.
"I can't do this by myself" muttered the
Little Red Rooster. Foxy Joxy & Goosey
Brucey looked at each other & smiled.
"HELP!" pleaded the Little Red Rooster.
"PLEASE!"
And so they did. They invited all of their
friends. They picked and sang, weeded
and laughed, watered and danced. It
was fun working together.
"I guess I bit off more than I could chew"
said the Little Red Rooster. "I really
appreciate your help, thank you!"
"You're welcome." His friends smiled
at each other.
"Don't forget to take some zucchini home
with you" said the Little Red Rooster.
"And come back tomorrow for lunch,
we'll have a huge salad. Foxy Joxy &
Goosey Brucey looked at each other and
laughed.
"Next year we can make the garden twice
as big!" crowed the Little Red Rooster.
"I'll be the Carrot King of the Universe!"
"Good Night" said Goosey Brucey &
Foxy Joxy.
(they walk into the moonlight arm in arm)
were sitting in the tulip garden
enjoying the spring air and a bit
of pink lemonade. Goosey Brucey
was looking through his purse for
a box of animal crackers when he
heard the leaves rustle.
Suddenly the Little Red Rooster
came popping out of the bushes,
bristling with excitement.
"Let's grow a great big organic
vegetable garden this year" he
squawked.
Foxy Joxy & Goosey Brucey
looked at each other. "We'll grow
the best produce in the world!"
clucked the Little Red Rooster.
"Won't that be fun?"
At first it was. they planned and
plowed. They planted & played.
"Hey, you're having too much fun"
the Little Red Rooster complained.
"Get back to work!"
One day Foxy Joxy was out in
the garden raking. "Hey, don't do
it that way, do it this way!" Guess
who. Pretty soon Foxy Joxy
got tired of working & went inside.
Then Goosey Brucey went out to
water the plants. "Don't pull the
hose that way! And don't forget
to do it again later" scolded the
Little Red Rooster. Luckily it rained
because Goosey Brucey didn't really
feel much like watering again.
"Hey! Let's make the garden bigger!"
exclaimed the Little Red Rooster.
"We can sell the extras & make piles
of money." Foxy Joxy & Goosey
Brucey looked at each other.
"I'll meet you in the garden at the
crack of dawn" hollered the Little
Red Rooster as he flew out the door.
"We'd better get to bed early" said
Goosey Brucey.
He & Foxy Joxy woke up to the
cock's crow and hurried out to the
garden. "What took you so long?"
grumbled the Little Red Rooster,
with his mouth full of bugs.
"I've been out here for hours!"
"I think I'll go back to bed" said
Foxy Joxy. "Me too" said Goosey
Brucey. The Little Red Rooster
stomped his foot. "I'll just do it
myself" he declared. And so he did.
They took a nap and then spent a
fun day at the beach. "I worked
by myself all day long" complained
the Little Red Rooster. "Good for
you" they answered, "good night."
And so it went all summer long.
The more the Little Red Rooster
complained, the less they helped.
"Who's going to help me eat this
zucchini?" asked the Little Red
Rooster. Foxy Joxy & Goosey
Brucey scurried off with a picnic
basket filled with peanut butter &
jelly sandwiches.
"Fine!" screamed the Little Red
Rooster. "I'll do it myself!"
He tried, he really tried. He ate
zucchini until he felt green. He
couldn't sell it, he couldn't even
give it away. "I'll put it in the
compost then" he said, & he did.
"My beak and feet are sore from
pecking bugs and scratching weeds."
hinted the Little Red Rooster. "Come
to the movies with us" invited his
friends. "I can't" he answered, "I
have to do all of this work myself"
and he stormed off.
Foxy Joxy & Goosey Brucey looked
at each other. "What should we do?"
They found the Little Red Rooster in
the garden tying up the tomatoes.
"Can we help?" they asked.
The Little Red Rooster didn't even
look at them. "I'll do it myself" he huffed.
Goosey Brucey & Foxy Joxy went off
to see a musical and eat popcorn. They
came home from a cool afternoon at the
theater to find the Little Red Rooster
sweating in the hot sun, hard at work.
"Would you like some help?" they asked
"Leave me alone" he muttered. And so
they did. "Maybe we should apologize"
said Foxy Joxy. "For what?" asked
Goosey Brucey. "I have no idea" said
Foxy Joxy.
The Little Red Rooster worked half the
night by the light of the moon, all by
himself. Soon the Little Red Rooster
had veggies coming out of his ears. He
didn't even have time to pick them. The
weeds grew faster than he could pull them.
"I can't do this by myself" muttered the
Little Red Rooster. Foxy Joxy & Goosey
Brucey looked at each other & smiled.
"HELP!" pleaded the Little Red Rooster.
"PLEASE!"
And so they did. They invited all of their
friends. They picked and sang, weeded
and laughed, watered and danced. It
was fun working together.
"I guess I bit off more than I could chew"
said the Little Red Rooster. "I really
appreciate your help, thank you!"
"You're welcome." His friends smiled
at each other.
"Don't forget to take some zucchini home
with you" said the Little Red Rooster.
"And come back tomorrow for lunch,
we'll have a huge salad. Foxy Joxy &
Goosey Brucey looked at each other and
laughed.
"Next year we can make the garden twice
as big!" crowed the Little Red Rooster.
"I'll be the Carrot King of the Universe!"
"Good Night" said Goosey Brucey &
Foxy Joxy.
(they walk into the moonlight arm in arm)
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