Just so you know, if you have not heard.... I go on vacation starting this Friday, and the party don't stop till Sunday after next!! I am very excited about clocking out and taking a real vacation. If only it wasn't so much work to get to the part where I can leave. If only our house was always visitor ready! If only we had spent the extra money to hire someone to do our yard for us! If only the laundry fairy would come and clean Mount St. Clothes in my bedroom! Alas, we are as they say, screwed. We are also exhausted. I am sorry family that is coming to visit. Because we worked so hard on getting ready, we will fall asleep as soon as we try to relax, and probably won't wake up for a few days. There is food in the fridge and coffee in the cabinet on the right hand side of the sink. Have at it! Oh, can you feed the dog every once in a while for me? Just throw some kibble in a bowl and call it done. Kthxbai!
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| DO NOT DISTURB (unless you have bacon, and then we will talk) |
So last week, I had a request from a reader, that shall remain nameless, (mostly because I didn't ask for permission to use her name). She had been digging through some old items and came across a love poem that one of her ex's had written her. What I understood from the conversation is that it gave her the warm a fuzzies. That is so awesome. I read the poem in question, it was nice, really. I think writing your feelings down in a lyrical way or with clever metonymy is a beautiful thing! I know some that can wield the English language like a sword, and others who handle it like a limp noodle. I see myself as a fun-noodleist. I can't swing the sword, but I sure can float!
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| This is not a fun-noodle! This is a concentrating noodle! Get it right!!! |
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Most love poems are written while you are very happy, or very depressed. There are no "in between" poems. You never see poems that say:
You cleaned the litter box today,
Thanks.
You left your laundry in the washing machine again,
I'll let it go this time
Our son broke a window in the garage while playing baseball,
It is your turn to punish him.
Maybe we will treat ourselves with the movies this weekend,
Call the babysitter.
90% of poems do not talk about how it is most of the time. I think that disclaimer should be added to english classes. *Warning, the contents of this poem do not reflect what real life is like most of the time.*
Oh my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
Oh my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
Or Reality:
Oh my Love is like a red, red disconnect warning,
That is newly left in the mail box.
Oh my love is like the dog barking,
never ending and loud.
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