Tales from the field #3.

So this is a fresh tail.  Sorry, was that a typo?  (All will become clear in a moment.)  Behind my booth at the fair in Scottsdale, is a dispenser for dog poop bags.  There wasn’t much of a crowd while I was eating the free breakfast.  (Oh, sorry, that’s a breakfast that you paid for in with your booth fee.  I’m not much of a muffin eater, but in cases like this, You Will Enjoy The Muffin Whether You Like It Or Not!)  So I’m reading the graphics on the side of the box.  I was wondering what design innovations Mutt Mitts might have come up with in the Joys of Dog Ownership department, but it turns out they are just bags.  With instructions, in case you didn’t know how to clean up after your pet.  Apparently there isn’t yet an app for that.

dogpoopbags

Brings a whole new meaning to artificial intelligence being no substitute for natural stupidity.

The whole subject reminds me of one night I stayed with an artist friend for a show, and after the Saturday of the show we walked her dog.  She commented that if aliens looked down at the whole dog-human relationship they could misconstrue the whole scenario.  Who feeds whom?  Who walks behind whom?  Who picks up whose poop and takes it home?

Advertisements

Sonnet Challenge #14

This is the last one in the series suggested by Eric in Ventura.  His phrase was:This is the last one in the series suggested by Eric in Ventura.  His phrase was:”The attic, grandma’s art hidden behind the attic crawl space”
Having gotten close to the end of the list of suggestions, I’ve been working off on my own for a while.  I completed six sonnets on the weekend during quiet moments at the art fair and I’m now over the 100 mark!
Grandma’s attic
It’s an expected death, but still, she’s gone –

in heaven with Grandpa – her life love – again

and now it’s up to us to clear the home.

Sixty years of chatchkis, what a pain!

The auctioneer comes first and takes the best.

Next the ebay guy, then Goodwill runs,

and lastly to the dump with all the rest

but family albums.  Oh!  The attic’s full

of paintings!  Whose are these?  My God, they’re hers!

We’d no idea she was so good at art.

And dates! She’d painted in her youth for years,

but none since when our Grandpa stole her heart.

So sad, on these walls only now we see t

he artist her life wouldn’t let her be.

Tales from the Field #2

Here’s an icebreaker I’ve been using for years – finally thought to take the picture to go with it, and found a willing victim in Boulder City yesterday.

oddshoesSomeone walks by, or walks in with a ‘boot’ on.  I’ll sneak up to them and ask “Don’t you just hate it…….when you go somewhere nice……….and when you get there, you realize………..you’re wearing odd shoes?”

This lady was with her husband, so I then asked her whether she sustained the injury because she kicked him for snoring.  She had a great come-back.  “No, but I can now!”

April one year I had that conversation then asked the lady what she’d done.  She said she’d had a new ankle the prior July, but it had broken again.  Oh, I asked – is it still under warranty?

October’s newsletter

Please enjoy October’s newsletter – Changes.

Sonnet Challenge #4.

I’m putting these up in approximately the order that they’re being typed up in.  The other week when I was typing up the sonnets I wrote while I was in Flagstaff, I discovered a couple that I’d written in Monterey in July and had never typed up.

This is another of my San Diego fan’s suggestions.  (His topics infer that he is inspired by frustrations in life.)  “Letter to a brusque cashier at the retail store”.

The Cashier.
(read from a guy’s perspective).
The line is long, progress we make is slow,

then I catch a glimpse of the cashier’s pretty face.

If I ask to take her with me, perhaps she’ll go,

Like me, can’t wait to get out of this place.

She doesn’t make eye contact, doesn’t smile

at customers, the way she talks is flat.

The workload that she has is half a mile.

Each problem is resolved matter of fact,

each question answered blunt like they were dumb.

She’s gorgeous but her attitude’s a wreck,

stuff thrown in bags as if her heart were numb

and all she thinks of is the next paycheck.

I thank her, smile and wish her a nice day;

I turn.  She shoots a happy grin my way.

Sonnet Challenge #3

This one was from a San Diego fan’s challenge:  “The advantages and hidden disadvantages of hot showers”.  As you can see, I’ve used poetic license in the interpretation.  Please try though, to imagine yourself in the shower, and not me.

Hot Water
I turn the motel shower faucet on –

a test!  It’s up and down, or left and right?

At last, a stream, then, leaving it to warm

for a quick shower, I tie my braids up tight.

I step in, barely warm for a quick sluice.

I’d like some heat to help tired muscles unfold.

So left a notch, soap up, sweet scented juice

but suddenly this rainfall starts to scald

my skin.  I wince and dodge and nudge it right,

but now it’s ice!  I shudder, try to turn

it back to middle, but I lose this fight,

rinse, alternating between freeze and burn.

So maybe next time I will be more bold,

Decide to simply have the shower cold.

Challenges

1302oneside_wPlease enjoy my monthly mailing for September – and don’t hesitate to respond to some of the challenges!