A to Z quickie

I’ve always seemed to be able to string together words or mutilate lyrics with ease. Bedtime story on demand, no problem. A perversion of history passed off as the “real” story behind salad dressing, piece of cake. Maybe my imagination gland is hyperactive. Though it is useful come time for fun and games. You don’t want to hear about that though. Anywho…

Don’t know why but the “Suggestions” on WP just now reminded me of a reply that a made on a lady’s A to Z challenge awhile back. Mainly because my head gave me a surprise today and I feel better. The day of that reply I didn’t. So…., the “Suggestions” were: Politics, toddlers, disaster

Politics handled by toddlers leads to disaster!




Oh Finn-ally, a bedtime story!

How do I set the stage? Well, first things first I suppose.

Have you done all of your chores? Teeth brushed and hair combed? Are you ready for bed? Were you a good girl today? Would you like a story? Ok, but, it has to be both good and something with a moral lest the Brothers Grimm haunt my sleep. Now, get comfortable and let me know when you are ready.


Once upon a time there was this Daddy who was a bit touched in the head, special if you will. He had quirks and idiosyncrasies just like everyone else. Among them was a love of language. He thought it a neat tool and believed that slight tweaks could produce better ways to see and understand the world, make things easier to remember or, in some cases, just be good fun. Oftentimes the impression these tweaks created left behind a whole new normal. His Girl counted on this for making bedtime fun. She loved a good story as she snuggled up and prepared to slip off for a night of dreamt merriment.

The stories were a gift for her, something new and special each time. They were each as unique as their relationship and each had it’s own meaning. It was rare indeed for them to repeat or share this special part of their day because it was part of their secret jovial way, a point of innocuous insider commentary. But he once found a desire to share one of his favorite gifts to her. It seemed useful on a larger stage for assorted reasons. With her permission, he set out to share one of their secret smiles. Maybe others would think on it and always be grateful for a chance to see the beauty around them. Only time would tell but first he had a story to tell so he set to task. Wondering how to best fulfill his end of the bargin made him look back over many encounters spanning many years.

He thought of a day once shared. It seemed no one they met that day was to be pleased, no one saw the beauty in the blessing that each new dawn is. It was a shame that left them both feeling a bit sad for the others. Later they were home, chores done and baths taken when they realized what time it was. Bedtime! Storytime! As they lay chatting, she asked if he knew why some folks didn’t put their hands on their cheeks in awe of the world around them a bit more often. A pained groaning ensued and he asked if he couldn’t just tell a story instead. The “Well, ok” from her signaled she was unsatisfied yet curious what ol’Daddy was thinking. Fluffing pillows, she laid back and gave him the “Go ahead” with a grin. With a breath he started the nights story.

“Once upon a time there was a small village set between field and wood. From the hills came a creek that met up with numerous springs on it’s way down. By the time it arrived to split the village in two it had grown large enough to require a small bridge for crossings. It was a nice enough village where nice enough people made their home. Truth be told it was like so many others here, there and everywhere. The same could apply to it’s citizens as they were, for the most part, admirable folks living life. It stood out for no real reason of product or people beyond one small, interesting boy.

Finn was born and raised in this bucolic world. Having the luck of parents slightly better off than most gave him a small edge. This luxury was compounded by their desire to see him get his hearts every desire. These things produced something unique in short order. The ordinary village populated by ordinary people was soon known for having Finn. This worked out to be very convenient because it would seem that no other village wanted one!

Trudging back through the streets after an idle morning of fishing he would hear the butcher calling out to enquire if he had caught any. “No, the water was to cold” would come a sullen reply. Offered a fresh cookie by the baker, he would take a bite and deem it too hot. When the neighbor lady offered tea he sipped and declared it too sweet. Arriving home he met his mother’s outstretched arms with a complaint that she shouldn’t expect him to walk over to where she was cooking.

“Oh Finn” each would sigh as he trudged away. Each tried to encourage him to take on responsibility, see beauty and consider others. Unfortunately the advice fell on deaf ears. This was his way every day and it only grew worse with time. Much as Levi’s became shorthand for all jeans, his sour attitude and self-centered manners became a local legend. For better or worse, it only grew and grew. Soon enough, any person whining about house or holding there would quickly hear an “Oh Finn” and laughter. Sadly, he never saw the irony in the words nor the joy in life.

By the time he died his was a grumpy, miserable life. The life stood in a strange sort of contrast to his popularity. No one wanted to be like that and yet, at times, we all are. We each forget to smile, we each get “Oh-Finn-ed” in ways far too small. The world would be better had we no need for the modernization “Offended”. Think of those people today. They were so busy being “offended” that they voluntarily gave up the beauty around them.”

“Get it Girl?”

“Yes sir”

“Ready for bed?”

“Yes sir”

“Don’t get offended tomorrow, ok Girl?”

“Yes sir”

“Love you Girl”

“Love you to Daddy”

“Good night Girl”

“Good night Daddy”


Now, for you, it’s late and you need your sleep. Sleep well and, come tomorrow, live well lest you be like Finn. You don’t want that do you?

Sweet dreams…..























Maybe later?

Didn’t really write what was on my mind yesterday. Started to write and had two thoughts come to mind. The first was the value of a smile. Even a sad smile has it’s own value. The second is harder to explain without melting my head. (Long story there but don’t worry about it.)

The fact (Hmmmm…., WP just had my post for lunch. I think I will have lunch now and pick this up again later. Grrrr….)

“The fact” that I was interrupted, again, irks me. Now I’m back and, just like in Spaceballs, we’ll do the “short, short version”. Grumble…..

My next point was to have been that I sneak about reading in rare downtime. That I don’t follow/comment daily isn’t negativity but rather the intersection of limited time, internet and mental bandwidth. I was thinking on this yesterday.

The first story to mind yesterday seemed quite fitting. It addresses so much in the world around us but it does so in a lighthearted way that leaves an impression and a reminder of choices we can make should we choose to.

Had pondered sharing it before. A part wishes I had because I can imagine many using it but one missed it. Shame. My other hesitation comes in that it was a gift, a creation to help another. I had debated sharing it for quite awhile but, it is her’s. Dumb luck, after WP ate my intial post, she called as I had lunch. I asked if I may share with others and she said “yes”.

So, yesterday I shared a smile. Tonight I’ll share a bedtime story with a moral. Maybe some mice will go to sleep with renewed conviction on how they to approach life starting with tomorrow’s new day.

Enjoy your afternoon. IF mine goes well there will be a bedtime story later.










Little Humor

Thought some of my mice might appreciate a recent bit of my humor. Some of you really do need a special  smile after a sad week.

For a bit of backstory:

There is apparently a famous library cat named “Dewey” if I recall correctly. And, as is my normal, I will digress for a moment. I do not approve of a cat named “Dewey” (or anything else) in a library. This does not mean that I disapprove of cats. What it does mean is that I know people who are allergic to cats. A couple of them have severe allergies. Ever seen someone’s face to red and their breathing become labored because a person near them in a line owns a cat? A library is (typically) a public space where all should be welcome and safe. My distaste is aimed at anything that would be a reasonable source of discomfort. I would be against removing a book that they disapprove of but in favor of removing anything causing a physical barrier to their inclusion. I would not mind a cat named Dewey in a privately owned bookstore. Now, with the thought that just crossed my braincell aired, back to Dewey.

Had the pleasure of attending the birthday party of a little girl recently. She is a rather infectious little monkey that I have known since birth. Apparently she is now fond of lighthouses and cats. In front of friends, family and a slew of giggling girls she sat opening gifts. Have to admit some were quite cool indeed. With a loud squeal she tore the paper off of one and held it up for all to see. There was a big grin behind the upheld arms and under the copy of “Dewey the Library Cat” that she proudly displayed. Now, remember that I only have one flavor and she knows it well and so, seeing that title, the e-vile came out out to play.

“Oh, heh, did you hear what happened to Dewey?”

“What?” she asked as the book was lowered and all heads turned.

“Dewey had to go to the vet this week.”

“Is he ok Mr. C?”

“Sure Honey, turns out he just had bookworms.”

You can buy someone a neat gift but the look on her face and the depth of her groan was priceless.











There are many seemingly exclusive cliques in our world. We all belong to multiple groups even if we don’t think of the advantages and disadvantages of each. Being bilingual is an example. You may be equally at ease with English and Spanish but that serves no use when you hear of a fine bit of French cinema. Not being a member the French tongue is offset as you easily take in Catalonia happenings.

Some groups certainly give bigger smiles and bigger frowns though. That magic of being a parent is a mixture of anguish over whether to kill your kid for what happened in the kitchen or praise them for an unexpected good. Then the affiliations become easier to see. Saw a girl do something commendable I recently. Proud indeed. Proud Father, that’s a good club!

(Should have let this go in hindsight. Need rest but this thought seemed useful.)



Sink or Swim

Poured a girl into her dreams last night then went to swim in mine. Easy success on the first count. She was blessed with a surprise at days end. Giggles are priceless you know. The latter saw mixed results and so I was up long before the sun as is typical. Nothing wrong with rubbing dogs as they sleep on the porch and waiting for hand in front of face, good way to start a day.

Got back in to catch up on the necessaries that the magic of childhood keep hidden. Occurred to me (yet again) that it’s now ok to have a soundtrack to my day. Starring at the stacks of anything and everything an odd call popped out. Maybe some “Clower Power” to smile with as the rising Sun does it’s light show through the windows and paints the walls? (Love that low morning light filtering over the hill and through the trees.) Yeah, that will do.

One or two “HAW’s” later it was obvious that he is another I miss and, more importantly, that someone’s dreams were being imperiled. Back to the magic stacks of happiness. Something much more in line with what would be fitting and proper came to play. ‘Tis good no doubt. Quite good and it has been quite awhile. This choice brought memories and highlights realities. Sometimes a deep breath is a useful tool in such moments. (Though I do believe the current track would distract you nicely.) That breath last long enough to give one chance to ponder how problems, challenges, don’t define you but your response to them does.

Now, breath taken, I see that the Sun has almost cleared the treetops. Time to go wake a girl and make sure her day goes swimmingly.





Poll cat

Curious for y’all’s input but short on time. Sigh….

A girl got a call late yesterday evening. Apparently a new friend wanted to stay over with an old friend and they needed help giggling. Always ready to help another, Girly-girl asked if she could go assist. “At this hour?” was her father’s incredulous reply. “Yes” said that little girl voice Daddy’s know well. Well, it wouldn’t hurt and she was just trying to help right?

On the four wheeler we went, through the we road slow to see the remains of day. The deal was simple but she needed to keep her end. We were committed to helping a neighbor at sunrise on this, my only day off. “You may assist with the giggle shortage but I will be here at sunrise.” “Got it!”

Well, two-ish hours of sleep later she was. A tired little lady crawled on back and we reversed course through the fields, welcoming a new day as we went. She did well and, soon, we were done. Gear was put up and cleaned up then inside for breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, honey and fried apples, nothing you would enjoy. Told her that maybe she should rest as I finished tasks and calls. Think she might have fallen asleep on the way to her room. But now for my conundrum.

How to wake her? She will be gotten up in six minutes and I’m at a loss. She is sound asleep. Nothing normal will pierce that for most. What do I do? Hmmm…., let’s see….

Flying elbow to the head?

Bucket of cold water?

Yank the blanket and dump her in the floor?

Fire arm shotgun out her window?

Drop an old, good, dictionary by her bed?

Kiss her on the forehead and whisper “Let’s go honey”?

Poo, out of time, I’ll have to wing it. Wish me luck.