Patience Rewards the Captain of Industry

photoHow Cocooning Relieves Stress among the Hardworking

Behold the moth: he waxeth wroth, and sure has cause if any hath:

A life so short and labor-filled that many lesser moths hath killed;

Yet all’s not tragic, dire, dark things, for, briefly as he hath his wings,

He waxeth too his Silver Wraith; it shineth like a ghost, i’faith.

As caterpillars of his ilk produce the finest bolts of silk,

Yea, marvel at such industry, and bitter butterflies ne’er see,

For, selling such rich bolts of cloth, they’ve little cause for waxing wroth.photoYes, I do know that my photo here is of a butterfly and not a moth. Just as I’m sure you know that this poem is not a scientific treatise on the relationship between entomology and high-end automotive art. Anybody coming to this blog in search of hard data on virtually anything is clearly lacking in logic anyway, so welcome, all! And may none of you fall into the clutches of any lepidoptera with anger management issues or delusions of being silkworms, either one. Also, if you happen to be the computer programmer who designed my auto-correct function, to my knowledge a TelePrompter is in no way related to or a straight-across substitution for a lepidopteran in either linguistic or physical form, though it might amuse you greatly to experiment with such things. I do give thanks for the laugh.

Foodie Tuesday: The Peas that Refresh Us

digital illustration/textThis post may require some appeasement on my part. I do, however, excuse this peas piece by saying that I genuinely love eating good sweet peas. Raw or cooked, cold or hot, plain or in a well prepared recipe, green peas are a treat no matter how they tickle my funny bone. That they have nutritive value is merely a bonus.

photo

Smashed Green Peas make a smashing spread when lightly steamed, mixed with butter, orange zest and juice and a touch of salt and cayenne. Of course if you want them to be truly smashed you can add a dash of orange liqueur, too. If you drink most of the liqueur yourself it is *you* who will be smashed.

Worlds Apart

photoOn Not being Quite Specific Enough

An Athabascan lady and a young Mauritian man

Met on the bus while shuttling to the airport in Japan

And planned a summer get-together in the town of Dent,

But didn’t think of all details—yet still, one day they went

To meet each other in that little place—the town so small

They didn’t guess there would be need for detailed plans at all—

Sadly, the lady was in Minnesota, with no clue

Her friend was off in Cumbria, the Dent of English hue,

Completely unaware as well that continents away

His lady-friend awaited him, unknowing, that same day—

And so they never met again, each sad the other failed

To know how much they’d hoped to meet, and what it had entailed

To reach their distant rendezvous and keep their destined date,

And neither learned there were two towns named Dent until too late.photo

Mayday! or, How Telecommuting Saves Lives

digital image from a photoWhen Face to Face Meeting is Obsolete

The business is dead! It’s technology’s fault–

the lighting, AC and the big central vault

Are scrambled and frozen and jolted and jammed–

the intercom’s buzzing, the plumbing is dammed–

Email is blacked out and the network is fried

and what’s in can’t escape or what’s out, get inside–

Alarms are all ringing but signals are dead–

the boss would’ve canned me and then had my head–

The one thing that saves me (although you may scoff) is

she can’t recollect how to get to the office.digital artwork from a photo

Side Effects Make a Changed Man

Beastly Discovery

Mild-mannered Monsieur Ste-Hilaire

Went out one night to take the air

And came home newly sharp and snarky

(Full of mischief and malarkey);

I think that maybe in the park, he

Might have met a succulent

Voracious, wild and truculent,

That bit his elbows, left and right,

Infecting him that very night

(As you’d imagine, quite a sight)

With psychedelic thoughts to itch

Him to a highly fevered pitch

Wherein he met another world

And in its vortex, seeing swirled

(The way such rarities are hurled)

Strange creatures in bizarre parade,

He loosed the window, threw the shade

Upon it open just to share

With us the beastly thoughts in there

(Effects of which you’re now aware).digital illustration

Cow Punchlines

photoI’ve No Beef with Your Cultural Identity

Being a female or male Croatian

Is no more determined by your location

Than eye-color, height or weight, or sex is

By where you were born in the state of Texas

But I will admit Texan regions do

Determine the skew of your barbecue,

And can also say, since it ain’t no tattle,

That many are mighty fond of cattle.photo

Un-Appetizers

You may not be the least bit surprised to hear that I was recently duped by a fast food commercial (yes, I do eat Junk Foods of many kinds) into thinking that a special treat of theirs was going to be worth trying. Not only was it worlds from what was portrayed (as the old Norwegian-joke goes: ‘What was wrong with it??? The food was terrible! And the portions were so small!’), it was accompanied by a zippy little packet from the counter container marked Honey, which on closer inspection turned out to be not honey but ‘Honey Sauce’–a packet I was too fearful to open after reading the long ingredient list wherein honey fell fourth to three of the other four sweeteners, barely before water and a list of preservatives impossible to spell.

I was tempted to go directly home and swill real, pure, local, raw Texas honey straight from the bottle, but I resisted. Needless to say, the packet of Mystery ‘sauce’ (I still find it kind of amazing that it’s even legal to call it that, let alone Honey Sauce) went instantly to the circular file, followed in short shrift by the remains of the appalling main dish, and I went off to cleanse my palate at home. You’d think I’d be smarter by now. Sigh.digital artworkFasting Food

Silly me! I thought Fast Food

meant eating something raw and crude,

Something exotic and delicious,

not appallingly pernicious,

But cooked and primped and sauced to serve

as amuse-bouche, starter, hors-d’oeuvre,

Not some spectacular, emetic

parody of dietetic

And comestible delights—

it seems to me, Fast Food, by rights,

Should be what shows up close to hand

in finished form and on demand,

Unsullied by the attitude

of what we often call Fast Food.

Sneaking Upward

Snaking Upward

I’m not a caterpillar, no,

I’m just a humble worm;

I have my aspirations, though

Ambitions make me squirm;

I like to keep a secret how

I wish for fame and wealth;

I know to climb’s not bad, I just

Prefer it done by stealth.

graphite drawing

Rattlesnake Wannabe

Hot Flash Fiction 5

The Duchess was inordinately fond of animals. Though her courtiers would never dare say so to her face, they imagined she ought to have been born a zookeeper, or at the very least a farmer. This idea was strengthened, especially, by the fact that it always fell to the housekeepers and servants to make the palace tidy enough for Her Ladyship’s dainty passage through life and to freshen the air when the royal menagerie had pranced, prowled or otherwise paraded through its rooms and left unseemly gifts along the way. The Duke, who was as allergic to all things animal as the Duchess was attracted, considered for some time whether he oughtn’t to have a team of expert taxidermists and artisans solve this problem once and for all, creating a large display of preserved zoological beauty that might be both lower maintenance and less powerfully scented than the living creatures populating his estate indoors and out, day and night.digital collageUnfortunately, the Duchess’s sisters who lived in the east wing of the palace did not support the Duke’s enthusiasm for the design, making noises of disapprobation at least as loud as the Duchess’s favorite dogs’ barking or donkeys’ braying. Perhaps, the Duke thought, he had been a little incautious in discussing this artistic concept with his secretary while within earshot of the sisterly ladies-in-waiting, for they both appeared quite ready to dash off squealing with rage to their unsuspecting sibling, or at the least, to imitate the household fauna in some other impolite fashion.digital collageAs it fell out, the Duke, however incautious he may have been in heat of the moment, was not without the wit born of hard experience. Working swiftly with his retainers, was able to resolve the situation quickly and suitably merely by shifting the subject of the new art to a slightly different one featuring the Duchess and her sisters. As an added benison of this resolution, it was discovered that he wasn’t allergic to winged or four-legged pets after all. The palace staff found maintaining the menagerie surprisingly less onerous afterward as well, even with the added curatorial duties of dusting off the Duchess and polishing her sisters from time to time.