It's Greek to Me

I haven't blogged in a few days, so when I signed on to Blogger today I was surprised to find the new layout.  The most strange aspect of the new blogger format is that my statistics were so readily available.  I browsed through some of them, then came upon the list of phrases people had used to search and then found my blog.  Here was number 7:

джордж клуни

 

What the heck?  Is it Greek?  It is to me!  What does it mean?  My top guesses are:

 

Hummus von Yum-yum

Crazy American Mom

Rhubarb Pie

Skunk Weiners

 

I planned to make a longer list, but I'm about 99% sure it is skunk weiners.   If you have an idea please post it in your comment, or if you are the person who googles in Greek, please stand up and identify your search phrase! 

 

 

 

International Jugglers' Day

If I could juggle, I would like to juggle a machete, a live chicken, and a bowl full of cherries all at once.  I don't know why.  I think I would end the performance by slicing and pitting the cherries with the machete and having them fall into the chicken's mouth, the pits would land in a neat little stack on the ground and the bowl would flip upside down and land on my head like a hat.  The machete would be in my hand, not hurting anyone or anything, of course.  Unless you count the cherries but I'm pretty sure cherries do not feel pain.

So I can't juggle, not even three little sock monkeys.  Or ping pong balls.  Or anything.  I can barely throw a tennis ball up in the air and catch it consistently. 

But I can juggle working, mothering, girlfriending, church-treasuring, writing, reading, and blogging all in one day.  And so far, no one has gotten hurt.  Though I don't usually use a machete for these tasks. 

Where is Everything?

We made major furniture moves today in preparation for the wall between my kitchen and living room to be partially demolished later this week.

The TV upstairs that no longer works is no more.  The TV downstairs moved upstairs into its place.  The Player's desk is where the downstairs TV used to be.  The table that the downstairs TV was on is now in the living room with the keyboard on it.  The bookcase that was in that spot is now downstairs near The Player's desk.  The refrigerator and the kitchen table have swapped places.  My brain is now where my stomach used to be and my back muscles are in the shop for a repair.  I said about 5 times that I needed to take ibuprofen today but I have forgotten to do so.  I think I will go do that now.

Hello I am back. 

There was some serious deep cleaning needed behind the old TV table (cheese slices, boy's socks, and major dust bunnies), behind the upstairs TV table (plastic freezer pop sleeves, dust bunnies the size of King Kong) and behind the fridge (a hot dog bun from the Pleistocene epoch).  Cleaning below the fridge required lots of Spic and Span and a putty knife.  Need I say more?  I said to myself about 5 times today that I would need a glass of wine after this.  I think I will go get that now.

Hello I am back.

But I don't have anything else to blog 'bout so Adios.

Fidrya teh Tneehhritt

It's Scrabble Day and also Friday the Thirteenth.  Scrabble was invented by a guy named Alfred Mosher Butts.  I kid you not!  His name really was Alfred!

Today I had a morning meeting, all morning...that was the unlucky aspect of my Friday the Thirteenth.  The rest of my day was lucky as lucky can be, chim chim cherree!!!

Have a happy Friday and don't take any unlucky wooden nickels. 

Not to Worry

Just when I was wondering what I would find to blog about next, I saw this headline in the online Bloomington Pantagraph:

Arizona lawmakers knit fuzzy uteruses

My first thought, of course, was "Oh I hope this article is blog-worthy!" followed shortly thereafter by "Isn't that supposed to be uteri?"

I don't know what the true plural of uterus is.  I don't often use the word in it's plural form in a sentence.   I will probably look it up in a minute...or, maybe right now...excuse me.

Ok, it can be either one.  How boring.

Well, on to the article.  It turns out that the lawmakers themselves are not knitting the uteri.  No, their unhappy constituents are knitting them for the lawmakers.  The constituents are unhappy that the lawmakers are considering legislation that will limit health insurance coverage for birth control.  So they are knitting little fuzzy uteri with googly eyes and sending them to the lawmakers with notes about their opinions. 

Hurrah for free speech!   Talk about spinning a yarn.  Insert little pun here about booty and booties. 

Hahaha...nevermind.

April Love

I may be too old to be a Cubs fan.  My heart just may not have the stamina to stay with them this year.  So far I got my blood pressure up just reading how Kerry Wood blew the first game.  Two days later the same story.  I am old enough to have been an already grown-up woman when Kerry burst upon the scene as a rookie, threw a record-setting 20-strike out game as a Cub, then got injured, had surgery, was off, came back, went away and was someone else's problem for a good long time.  But no, here just 2 years ago the Cubs GM (since fired and gone away to be someone else's problem) gleefully brought him back to Chi-town.  He failed as a Closer and was sent to the Purgatory known as Middle Relief.   Blah blah blah and et cetera.

Today I avoided watching the Cubs game even though I thought I'd be able to get it on TV.  Instead The Player and I went for a walk at Parklands.  The wildflowers are wild right now, running purple and blue mostly throughout the woods.  Spiderwort, phlox, larkspur, bluebells, violets.  A few red trillium (not yet stinky like carrion thank goodness) and shooting stars to round out the pallet. 

On the way home I realized the game would still be on, so I turned on the radio.  It was the bottom of the 8th, Cubs up 2-1 and then 3-1 and finally 4-1.  Starting pitcher Jeff Samardzjia still in the game and came back in to pitch the ninth.  The announcers, The Player later noted, used the term "insurance runs" about 4 times too many.  Jinx!  The Cubs pitcher got the first 2 guys out easily.  Then facing the third batter, gives up an easy ball to the shortstop.  Game should be...should be...oops, throwing error on Castro.  E-6.  Ok...the pitcher is still doing fine and should just go on, not his mistake but...no no No NO!  Here comes the new (inexperienced) manager Sveum to the mound.

Ok at this point I think the announcers have put the term "insurance" to bed and the color man can only speak in mono-syllables.  Miracle of miracles Sveum leaves the starting pitcher in.  Whew!
But as it turns out he's thrown off the poor guy's rhythm.  Next batter gets a home run and now it's 4-3.  The play-by-play announcer says something like this (I'm paraphrasing The Player's comedy routine after the game now, because I was so twisted up in a knot that I could not listen at all.)

It's a beautiful day, blue skies...the batter swings.
uh-oh looks like trouble.

Color guy:  Yes. (complete monotone)

Playbyplay guy:  Well, now he'll be bringing in Marmol in relief.

Color guy:  Yes.  (completer monochrome).

Me:  ARghhhhh. 

So, as it turns out the Cubs Closer, Marmol, did walk one guy then made the last out.  I couldn't listen, but The Player promises me they won. 

I think it might be time for me to start watching something for grown ups who don't want to have high blood pressure.  The Cubs in April might be for heartier and younger souls than me.

Everybody wants a Pie

While I was contemplating baking cupcakes for my neighbor, to celebrate her last in a series of surgeries related to cancer discovered last year, I received a phone call from Dr. Matt.   Dr. Matt is the vet that took wonderful care of Wolf while we had him.  Dr Matt is kind of silly, though, and at some point last year he became convinced that I should make him a jelly-bean pie.

So 6 months after Wolf's final day on this planet, I get a call from Dr Matt.  Easter reminded him of jelly beans and jelly beans reminded him that...he thinks I still owe him a pie.  He even has it all figured out:

Graham cracker crust
Cherry Jello
Lots and lot of jelly beans
Whipped cream.

So I reckon I'll be making that concoction sometimes soon

Then I logged on to my blog and saw a request/demand for rhubarb pie from my dad.  Yes, yes, I will make a rhubarb pie.  I might even write a poem about rhubarb pie.

I made the cupcakes.  The rest of you all will have to wait until at least tomorrow 'cause tonight I'm making dinner for The Player and myself and then going to see The Artist!

Happy Easter y'all.

Getting in touch with my Inner Weirdo

O, Gentle Readers.  I can hear those snickers several states away.  I can only imagine the "Wha...?" sounds from far far away, or just across town, or even, maybe on the lower level of my own home.

Still.  This is what happens to me during Poetry Month when I try to write a poem a day.  Thanks to Kathleen for lovely prompts and to Kathleen and The Player for reading my crazy drafts and saying things like "Tension is Good" and "I like your inner weirdo-ness" or "Mmmm...?"

And thank you for not saying things like "You really are weird, aren't you?" or "Why do all your poems have dog poop in them?"  

Actually only one of my poems had dog poop, but another one had pee in it.  Lots of pee. Poetic pee, though, trust me.