Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Wednesday's Mail Is Full Of Something Else

Wednesday's mail, unlike Wednesday's child, is not full of woe. Still and all, I wrote today's letter last night. I owe one for today. It will be writ! One-a-day is April's way, and for the month I decided to play. As you can see I'm still working my bee. Between ye and me? Tis the season to be a busy bee! 

Truth is, insomnia ruled the roost last night. I wrote a letter. Two would have been better. But I sketched instead. My pencil is rusty from disuse. Shame on it. All those cowboys and girls chomping to get out. Last month The Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo was the place to be, instead my pencil was dry. I had grand plans for new postcards but it wasn't happening. Probably because I hate rodeos. Well, I hate what they do to the animals. Western wear is cool though, and coincidentally, one of my current reads, Flight Behavior, has a character named Hester. Hester loves cowboy boots and western shirts with piping. She sounds like an ode to the ro-de-ro-de-ro-de-Oh! 

Maybe Hester is the reason I let Chester loose from my piano pencil's lead last night? He looked familiar, so a little thumbing. . . 

. . . yielded this guy. Such a cool Stetson, huh? My style has definitely changed but this was a fun postcard two years ago. I finally saw The Lone Ranger, thanks to Direct TV, and it seems like cowboys are always on my mind lately. Such a waste of time, that movie. 

So. Tuesday was Earth Day. Hooray-Yay! I sowed wildflower seeds. I almost bought that expensive sling shot that uses flower seeds inside mud balls as ammo; flinging them was much more eco friendly, yes? What did you do to improve our planet? Please don't say you exhaled.

And, Nephew II sent this image. It took seven days with two stamps but it got there. He was so happy, I think I will send him photos and a letter as often as I can. Doesn't it make you feel good when someone is grateful for your mail? It's one of the reasons we write on. Right?

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

I am Wednesday's Friday's child? You?

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Dead Letter Mail

What a way to mess up a great mail day. 

No free rides! They should have to pay the going rate to mess up my Earth Day! Why should businesses get a break to earn even more money by getting a break on postage? Spam is all it is.

And what ever happened to truth in advertising? I want a free pre-paid cremation! And I want it in advance.  Wait. How can it be free if someone has to pay for it first? No matter 'cause it won't be me. Return to sender!

Seriously. When I found this in our mail box my day dimmed for a long minute, although it's addressed to JC. They don't discriminate. I've gotten the letter before. And I believe in cremation. Until I wonder about the energy wasted incinerating a dense body. Still and all I applaud them for not contaminating our planet with embalming fluids that leak into the soil along with coffin materials that eventually break down. What's wrong with pine boxes and no embalming? Absolutely nothing.  

That's what I believe. I also believe disposing of human remains has become a lucrative business with costs that can break a family. Grief clouds judgment. Funeral homes tend to manipulate grief to their advantage. As a result families tend to overspend on caskets no one will see again, clothing that serves no purpose, and jewelry thats forever lost, not to mention thousands spent on burials would be better spent on the loved one left. The living still have living expenses. I cannot see my loved ones pouring thousands of dollars into a hole in the ground. No way. So, I have a plan.

If I go before JC there will be not be pre-paid "hole." There will be no embalming, and I pray there's never a need for an autopsy. There will be no discussions about cremation or harvesting organs first. No. Not after my watch. You see? I have plans. My remains will go to the Body Farm. I want to be propped up against a tree, out in the open, left to return to the elements one day at a time. I will teach. Students will study me as I change and seep. My body fat will one day join other fossil fuels, and who knows, I might help fuel a Jeep. Or lube something. Or better yet? I will take my body with me when I leave. So, Neptune Society, save your paper, envelopes and postage. I am pre-disposed. 

Dead  letter mail, indeed! A nice writing prompt though.

Monday, April 21, 2014

What's In My Out Box

I can't write at the moment because I'm too busy patting myself on the back. I have managed to write twenty-one days worth of letters.  If you add them and assign one to each day of this month it comes to twenty one, and this is the twenty-first penned piece! Okay, I penned the envelope. The letter, all two pages worth are typed using the Times 12 point font. Clever-clever use of my red paste pot, huh? 

I'm as busy as the bumblebees I've been ducking and dodging the last few weeks. They need to check their flight patterns or something because they fly like they're confused. I wonder if the cool temps had anything to do with it. Too bad they won't stay long enough to be photographed! 

I came across a thing of note yesterday. Or Saturday. I forget which but I saved the link for you. I like gadgets and unusual little inventions. My pen money is spent on more unrelated goodies than you might imagine, but you'll understand my secret penchant for some of the unnecessary little things in life. Like this:

I tried to order one but they've sold out the size I wanted. Yes, I use twine on occasion and when I do, and need to cut it, I use my Swiss Army Knife, or a kitchen knife. But don't you think this is worth having? Just as a conversation piece? Alex and I could talk for a good thirty minutes about this little gem if I had it, so mine are on backorder. Alex and I will try it out too. I think of my friends all the time! Just like I thought of y'all when I read the piece about how this knife came to be realized, patented and popular. I mean, who knew? Did you? 

There's one letter in my out box, and a lovely story at the end of that link. I hope you'll read about it. Read on.

Write on!

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Happy Springtime!

I haven't used my markers since the New Year's Eve. I haven't done much drawing either. Can't you tell? I'm about as rusty as an old fence post nail. Yet, Hard Boiled, Chester, and Lester would not be silenced. So I found a pencil, thumbed through old drawings until I came to the first clean sheet in my little pad, and here they are. The Fat Chick is sulking because I didn't finish her Easter bonnet. She didn't want to understand that I couldn't because my favorite markers are dry. You'd think she'd offer to sell a few dozen eggs to help a sister out, but no-o-o. She'd rather withhold permission to show her plain hat and pale person instead. She'd be mortified if I used the markers that have color. No matter. Here's wishing you a marvelous Spring, a Happy Passover and an eggy Easter! Chocolate or hard boiled?

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Another Saturday Evening Post

April 19, 2014

Dear Friends,

The Funny Bunny strikes again. My favorite markers have gone dry. Or maybe FB used up all the color?

Isn't Spring grand? 


The Hard Boiled Colored Egg

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Mission Re-Write! Or, The Magna Carta Hit Houston!

It's hard to believe I haven't posted in three days. I compose in my head all day long, be it letter or be it a post, and lately I've been living up to my hype. I write. Okay, I type. 

At least I write. Right? I think: Tea on the patio will make answering a letter from-you-to-me as easy as writing can ever be. I know! It's poor rhyme, but give me a little time! Two cups in a pot,  I'll have it outdoors and writing what I'm thinking won't feel like a chore. It hasn't happened all week! It's so humid the paper curls. Ink bleeds. Tea cools too soon. But I am on a mission. Plus I figure the right atmosphere is conducive to relaxed letter-writing. It did not work today, so I hit the trail. It took me fifty-six minutes to walk two point six miles. I took a new route today. I took note of each and every step. I discovered a new avian resident fishing in the bayou. Note to self: Google "adolescent blue heron."  Take advantage of Cornell Lab of Ornithology while at it. Membership comes with privileges.

Aha! The right tool. Problem solved? 

Not quite. I have to re-learn how to write. If you've had to read my chicken scratch lately, you know what I mean. Blind-woman-writing is how it seems! Shaky, snaky, scribbled loops. Too many scratch throughs and plenty of "Oops!" Such a mess of words I make. Even I have to bow my head in shame and shake-shake-shake it in dismay. Learn how to write again I must. It's re-learn, type forever, or go bust. Use it or lose it! So sad but true.

Okay. Enough. Here's the deal. My penmanship really does look like chicken scratch. There's a type of physical therapy for everyone. For real. So, I am on a mission to . . . Dang it! Jimmy Fallon is on. I can't type for watching. I try not to laugh because it makes me lose my train of . . . Shucks! Commercial please?

The Magna Carta hit Houston! Hey, Anna? It's here. And that Italic handwriting is simply contagious. You make it seem effortless but I know better. I know better 'cause I'm learning how to write all over again. Well, kinda. I'm into the ABCs of it. The 123s of it. I am on a personal Mission Possible. Mission Re-Write. How far have I gotten? Well . . . See that pencil? It's like we're going steady. We're like hooked at the hip. Maybe fingertips? 

Write on, write on! I've done at least a letter a day since this month rolled in. It's easy to do, so I hope you will too. What's your tally sheet like? And don't forget Earth Day! And Jimmy Fallon! Write on.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Writing Up a Storm

This is the view through the window behind the desk in the room where I write. Everything is low key and drab on this Monday afternoon. It's been this way all day. We've had intermittent rain, gusts of wind and thunderstorm warning. I'm just grateful for the water. 

Being confined, I thought I'd write up a storm. Instead, between beating a path between the front and back door, I've bent a few slats in the Venetian blinds like a kid looking for the Easter Bunny. I know it's futile, but still and all, I am expectant. I checked the mail at twelve fifteen, and behold! There was mail. So I sat myself down with pen and stationery and . . . Nothing. I cannot seem to concentrate. Can't focus. I want to go outside. In the rain. It took a single bolt of lightning to dissuade me. So here I sit when I should be starting dinner. It's forty-seven degrees in Katy. I can make vegetable soup but I don't feel like cooking. I am cooked-out. Do you ever wonder how many meals you have left in you?  I do. It makes me want to scream. 

Okay. A letter a day. Will a postcard do? I chose Dore's "The Gnarled Monster," thinking it was a bird in need of a manicure. Besides, it looks like I feel. Funny. Not ha-ha funny. Well maybe just a little. That human represents the world looking back at me. Now that's funny! No. Sorry. The man with the sword is common sense looking at me, and the owls are the world looking and not understanding. Yes, that's it. I should do something before those tentacles wrap around me and squeeze.

So look! This is an amazing postcard from Elle. She sent it awhile back. I couldn't archive it just yet. It's from Sugar's Wood Crafts, USA.

It's wood! I'm tempted to weigh it but won't. It is one of the loveliest things. Thank you, dear Elle. I thought of this yesterday when I saw a monarch butterfly back from its vacation. If I ever make my time capsule this will be included.

Again. Three pieces of mail in three days. Plus a box. That's not bad, right? I have a good excuse for not penning today. It's the weather. Do your pens act up when the humidity is ninety-four percent? Mine do. Not a good excuse? Hmm.

I'm surrounded with prompts. Okay, I'll try. I will write now because it's so natural and easy. But wait! The rain has stopped! The sky is bright! There's a dove on the lattice just outside my window. Wait again. This just in from Doodlemum: He-Man passed on. He's gone. Now I want to cry. Poor, poor chicken. I wonder if he ever met the Fat Chick. I'll write all about his passing in tonight's letter. *sigh* Maybe I'll write up another storm.

P. S. Who else saw "Game of Throne's" major surprise last night? Hmm. The sun is shining! How bright is my world? It's the brightest! Oh! And don't forget to watch the moon tonight!