To all Human-beings: It’s time for my Halloween ORANGE-ALERT.
Example of suspicious clothing
Example of humiliation.
No matter how many times I HAVE TOLD HUMANS not to humiliate us because they want to be amused it happens every year. I prefer to think that Humans just aren’t very smart and have no memory retention beyond a few hours rather than the possibility they are simply insensitive creatures with no regard for our feelings.
Frankly,
Freddie Parker Westerfield, PIC&C
Protector of Innocent Creatures & Critters
Fly’n High by Peggy
a judy pome
a peggy picture
Thinking Pink by judy
Worry your life away – literally
Research shows you will be happier for 3 months – Music to my ears
5 THINGS YOU CAN DO TO CHEER UP QUICKLY, ACCORDING TO NEUROSCIENCE
Charlie O’Shields’ water-color
Charlie O’s watercolor “Hug a Seal” is charming (Charlie is charming too . . . as is evidenced by the stories he writes to accompany his water-color paintings).
Papa’s Instructions Pome
Mama Cold, Papa Cold and their 3 virus babies
Baby 1
Baby 2
Baby 3
Children, it’s now up to you
judy is yours to do
Cuz Mama is weary
teaching how-to
with no app or Siri.
And your papa is tiring
of non-stop siring
It’s Mom & me off to find a new home
Hallelujah! you’re on your own
I admit I’m obsessive about steering clear of people who are sick. I’ve been “known” to remove my groceries off the counter and go to another check-out if I see a clerk sniffing or coughing. With fibromyalgia everything lasts longer and is more severe so I go to great lengths to avoid people who even appear to be sick.
My husband caught a cold 2 weeks ago and I’ve assiduously washed everything down – counters, door knobs, light switches and my husband – with disinfectant.
I woke up yesterday with a scratchy throat, a headache and feeling even less chipper than I usually feel in the morning.
The Queen gave me a cold
How do I know, how am I told?
This cold is a dignified one
no snorting, sniffling nor dripping a ton
My makeups impeccable, not a hair undone
Despite a sore throat and my throbbing head
staying all day, aching in bed
I shan’t complain
For how often does one contract
“But at 90 . . . she is exercising caution as she recovers from a heavy cold which she’s had for at least 12 days, (12 DAYS!!!! ) and which is bound to have left her feeling pretty miserable. (tell me about it).”
“She hasn’t yet had an opportunity to go outside and explore her 20,000 acre private Norfolk estate. (So true, so true)”
T’was the Day After Christmas Eve Pome
It’s true so they say that on Christmas day
old St Nick is always sick
from sugar, carbs, inhaling soot
and lunging sacks of children’s loot
Santa has to unbuckle his belt
to make room for cookies, and chocolate gelt
Popping antacids with each milk drink
he’s lactose intolerant, that’s why the wink
Up all night,
by mornings light he’s a fright
The chubby ole fellow, no longer mellow
Back’s in spasm, eyes are red
Climbing to chimney tops, legs like lead
When home he goes, the ho ho hoes
have turned to moans
the silent night filled with grunts and groans
No longer just plump he’s a fat grump
The reindeer too have lost their cheer
for all things festive in the New Year
His packed on pounds during the rounds
create huge drag for even a stag
They huff, puff and wheeze
looking for a stiff breeze
to help carry Santa over roof tops and trees
All the way back the reindeer pray
he’ll loose 50 pounds before next Christmas day
Cuz Rudolph et. al are running out of gas
hauling Santa’s growing ass
Freddie Parker Westerfield, CDT RET
https://doodlewash.com/2016/12/22/how-do-reindeer-fly/
Doodlewash is a blog I follow – both for Charlie O’s great water-colors but even more for his wonderful stories and descriptions about each drawing.
Today’s Doodlewash post inspired my pome.
Pome by judy
No one catches Santa on the roof
or in the snow sees prints
of tiny reindeer hoof
for Santa’s no bigger than a fly
and reindeer all the size of ants
ferry him through the Christmas sky
I don’t think it silly at all
to imagine reindeer quite so small
and know
how Santa slides down chimney flues
with nary much soot on his beard or shoes
So make your cookies the size of peas
and leave the milk in a thimble please
Limit the weight of gifts and such
to crush an ant
it doesn’t take much
* * *
Dear human-beings,
Besides being soft and cuddly a mission of mine is to bring poetry to the masses, of which you are some. And I am here to bring you the truth . . . even though it might hurt.
Santa was frantic at the North Pole
Finances in the red, he was in the hole
Mrs Claus couldn’t afford sugar
For her cookies sublime
Dear old hubby didn’t have a dime
North Pole employment had exploded
and Santa’s credit had eroded
He’d spent his last cent on black Friday deals
and turkey with the trimmings for thanksgiving meals
The night before Christmas he no longer had clout
When all the elves threatened a walk-out
Elf-union held all the chips
As evidenced by the grin on all the elf lips
For every elf in all the land
Had won a pay deal without tipping their hand:
Double pay all December
a free thanksgiving meal in November
Finally fringe benefits for elves was real
For Santa and the Mrs, there was no appeal
Santa had bitten his nails to the quick
Both right and left eyes developed a tic
All Santa could do was self medicate
So he stuffed his mouth from the cookie plate 
And downed all the rum from a hot toddy cup
his blood pressure sky-high, went up and up
His big fat belly shook like a bowl full of lead
While visions of bankruptcy danced in his head
So all you children and adults too
Have compassion and learn to make due
STOP asking for presents and things you don’t need
YOU must now take heed.
It’s no time for greed
If you want Santa another Christmas to live
to every red-kettle-bell-ringer
Dig in your pocket and GIVE.
Poetically yours,
Freddie Parker Westerfield
Freddie Parker Westerfield, Published Author
Dear Human Beings,
Time for my ANNUAL Thanksgiving ‘Ode To Tom’ and tell you what I’m thankful for:
Freddie Parker Westerfield, Poet Laureateby Freddie Parker Westerfield
P.S. I was told to tell you that my Human-being wishes you all things to be grateful for in your life, like she’s grateful for me.
If this isn’t the cutest, weirdest little critter I don’t know what is!
A Puggles Pome
Puggles are the puggliest
Their little snout the ugliest
Cuddle them quick
for when they’re grown
they’ll claw you
and won’t give a lick
“Sydney Zoo is celebrating the arrival of the first baby echidnas, known as puggles, in almost 30 years. The tiny (cute), and incredibly rare Australian mammals, hatched in the summer weighing between 250 and 500 grams. Echidnas, sometimes known as spiny anteaters, lay eggs – which hatch after 10 days. They’re then carried in their mother’s pouches for up to two months.”
The weather is changing
my body rearranging
Help! I’m in a fibro flare
Everything hurts
including my hair.
Sharon Bonin Pratt is a writer, an artist and a dear friend. I think she also is psychic. I’ve been not feeling great and the subject of her last post was just what I needed. AND it’s dedicated to ME!!!! What an honor!
Shari inspired me to look for a smile (SEE THE VIDEO).
Here’s a sample from Sharon Bonin Pratt’s Ink Flare:
“Who can laugh without relaxing? Isn’t that why some of us (not me of course, and certainly not you, but other unnamed folks) pee their pants when laughing raucously? Losing all control is not a bad thing, even if you must change your whitie-dities, because when you’re having that much fun – who cares about all the rest? Oh, and it’s contagious! In a good way, not like the flu, but like having enough cup cakes for everyone in the world. So now I not only feel good inside my own world weary bod – I feel good because everyone around me also feels good. Motto for today: Spread cheer – laugh out loud.”
A video of a diver in Thailand rescuing a porcupinefish caught in a net got my attention. I posted it on The HeART of Spirituality to get your attention. (verrrrrrry clever)
It’s not for survival
when I take a drink
It’s for my revival
she says with a wink
This is the black-blotched porcupinefish. These fish not only can swallow water and raise their spines to make themselves look bigger and fiercer, but they also harbor in their bodies a neurotoxin that contributes to self-defense.
Porcupine Fish sez: “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
“Some species are poisonous, having a tetrodotoxin in their internal organs, such as the ovaries and liver. This neurotoxin is at least 1200 times more potent than cyanide. The poison is produced by several types of bacteria obtained from the fish’s diet.[4] As a result of these three defenses, porcupinefish have few predators, although adults are sometimes preyed upon by sharks and killer whales. Juveniles are also preyed on by Lysiosquillina maculata, tuna and dolphins. Wikipedia
Whoops, WRONG picture. Sorry Charlie O’ . . .
“Unfortunately, like many of this unusual creatures, this species is classified as endangered. Though an odd face, they’re generally good natured with each other, but due to extensive loss of vegetation, there are only about 1,000 of them left. The government of Borneo has instituted strict penalties for those who kill them in an effort to protect what’s left of the dwindling population.”
Watercolor, Peacock Mantis Shrimp by Charlie O’Shields
“Some mantis shrimp species are rather romantic, meeting their dream shrimp and staying together for life, which is up to 20 years. These lovebirds share the same burrow, protect their eggs, and help each other in hunting. When particularly aroused during mating rituals, the mantis shrimp will start to fluoresce. This means, you guessed it, they have glow-in-the-dark sex, which more than qualifies them as an uncommon creature.”
“Along with its spiky reddish-brown hairdo, it’s quite a sight to behold. It’s also a bird that you are better off viewing from a safe distance due to its other key characteristic that has earned it’s rather insulting nickname. But it’s an accurate one, as the stinkbird actually does smell like poop.”
Found a grrrrrrrrreat new blog doodlewash. The artist CHARLIE O’SHIELDS is good AND his subjects are weird and wonderful critters (at least the ones I’ve seen so far) My kinda guy! To make it even better the information he posts about the animals he draws is fascinating.
As those of you who follow my blog know I’ve been in a slump – physically, mentally and creatively. The minute I saw Charlie’s drawings and read about critters . . . well . . . it inspired the poet in me.
Watercolor, Long Eared Jaboa by Charlie O’Shields
“Caught on video for the first time in 2007, this little creature may look like an odd little rodent, but it’s really quite distinct. There’s no other animal of its exact type on the planet. Looking a bit like a mouse-sized kangaroo, it’s humorously long legs give it the ability to jump over 3 feet (1 meter) high.”
Assignment from my writing class – “An incident when you were treated unfairly or you treated someone else unfairly.” I think I covered both . . .
Unfair Treatment – Body, Mind & Me
By judy westerfield
“More! More!” my mind screams at me. Her desire reverberates throughout my body. Once again, I’m caught in the middle between body and mind, between hedonism and health.
The three of us — body, mind and me — have been together a very long time. Over the years the mind has grown bolder, louder. To keep the peace I usually do what she says, even though it’s often based on want rather than need. Today is no exception.
For the second time in less than an hour I retrieve the half-gallon carton from the freezer.
“More! More!” She is unrelenting.
“Calm down. “I’m scooping as fast as I can.”
I ladle from the carton to the soup bowl — 1/3 less fat, 120 calories, $2.99 on sale — spoonfuls of vanilla, chock full of chocolate chunks and ripples of golden caramel. Hard, too hard. I like it soft, just this side of starting-to-melt. Ten seconds in the microwave will do it. I’ve perfected the timing.
“More! More!”
“You will just have to wait 10 seconds.” I can be firm.
It’s creamy, cold, sweet and glides deliciously from the lips all the way down to the stomach.
“Ahhhh. Mmmm,” the mind purrs and declares it to be an invention ranking right up there with the discovery of fire, the wheel and Tampax.
The bowl is empty. She points out that there’s more in the carton, purposely left out on the counter, which is now just the right soft consistency.
“120 calories per serving . . . 12 servings per carton . . .1,440 calories,“ she calculates. “We’ll just skip dinner.”
* * *
“Why? Why?” My distended stomach cries out, pushing painfully against the waistband of my pants. Hips expand, thighs grate together, intestines grumble while impolitely relieving themselves of gas as I walk to the trash to throw away the empty carton.
The body unfairly treated, yet again, by me. And the mind . . . she’s still screaming . . .
“More! More!”
Haiku Horizons – prompt BETWEEN
The Golden Rule originates in a well-known Torah verse (Hebrew: “ואהבת לרעך כמוך”):
You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your kinsfolk. Love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD. —Leviticus 19:18
Christianity: All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them. Matthew 7:12
Judaism: What is hateful to you, do not to your fellowmen. That is the entire Law; all the rest is commentary. Talmud, Shabbat 31:a
Hinduism: This is the sum of duty: Do naught unto others which would cause you pain if done to you. Mahabharata 5:1517
Islam: No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself. Sunnah
Buddhism: Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful. Udana Varga 5:18
Confucianism: Surely it is the maxim of loving-kindness: Do not unto others that you would not have them do unto you. Analects 15:23
Zoroastrianism: That nature alone is good which refrains from doing unto another whatsoever is not good for itself. (Dadistan-i-dinik 94:5).
Jainism: Killing a living being is killing one’s own self; showing compassion to a living being is showing compassion to oneself. He who desires his own good, should avoid causing any harm to a living being. Suman Suttam , verse 151
They call us “home”
our microbiome.
Our body spews
a cloud no one can see
Bacteria, viruses, fungi
intermingling you and me
Releasing microbes in the air
from head to toe where ever we go
Because they’re here to stay
Don’t waste your money
on bug spray
An excerpt:
“Each of us carries around millions of microorganisms – including bacteria, fungi and viruses — on the inner and outer surfaces of our bodies. Most of them aren’t dangerous. In fact, growing evidence indicates that they help us in lots of ways. Scientists call this collection of organisms our microbiome.”
‘”A lot of the recent work on the human microbiome has revealed that we’re kind of spilling our microbial companions all over our houses and our offices and the people around us,” Meadow says.”
“Meadow says the findings raise a number of possibilities, including, maybe, one day being able to identify a criminal by analyzing the microbial cloud he or she leaves behind at the scene.”
“We know that if you live with people, and even if you just work with people, your microbial communities come to resemble theirs over time,“ Knight says. “And in the past we used to think that was due to touch. It may be just that you’re releasing microbes into the air and some of those microbes are colonizing the people you’re with.”
My inner 7 year old slightly rebelled at this assignment from my new writing class.
A Serious Assignment for the Deserving
(prompt: start the story with “I deserve . . .”)
By judy Westerfield
I deserve to be punished for my sins which are the following — Jennifer stopped writing. She mindlessly scratched Trotter, curled up next to her, behind his ears with one hand while the other hand pushed the eraser end of the pencil in her cheek — the part of her cheek she checked every day to see if she had a dimple yet. Like the dimple her best friend Carmen had.
She read “which are the following” out loud. Grown up words, and sin was a grown-up subject. A good way to start so the teacher would know she took the assignment seriously.
Deserve . . . she thought hard, rearranged the pillows, propped herself up on the bed startling Trotter who rearranged himself and curled up again.
I deserve to be punished for my sins which are the following–
#1. I ate my brother Josh’s Jelly Bellys and said he was lying when he told Mom.
#2. I hit my brother Rick and told Mom he hit me
#3. I watched my brother Sean kiss his girlfriend.
Carmen agreed with her, it was a stupid assignment writing ten things you “deserve”. The teacher said it had to be about “deserve”, not about what mattered, like what you want or what you need. Carmen called it estúpido. And it was hard to figure out what qualified as a sin. Jennifer squinted wondering if calling the teacher’s assignment stupid was sinful.
#4. I deserve to have my own room and not have to share it with my s stoopido sister Becca.
#5. I deserve to be punished if it’s a sin calling my sister and this assignment stupid.
She flipped open her i-pad and Googled “deserve” — “to merit or have a claim to reward, punishment . . . because of circumstances: to deserve a pay raise; to deserve exile.”
#6. I deserve a pay raise because I need more money to buy things.
#7. I deserve to have my sister and brothers exiled so I can be an only child.
She added exiled to Alaska.
Trotter nudged her, rolled over on his back, signaling time to scratch him on the stomach and think some more — If her mom and dad really loved her they would give her everything she deserved. It wasn’t fair her sister and brothers deserved a bigger helping of dessert, or deserved to stay up late or deserved their own room, just because they were older. It wasn’t fair and proof her parents loved them more.
#8. I deserve to get a good grade for this assignment.
Scratching Trotter with one hand, she tapped out a text message to Carmen with the other: need 2 mor deservs txt me yurz
how du u spel s stoopido
“There she goes . . . again”
One of my favorite childhood poems:
Fishy fishy in a brook
Papa catch ’em with a hook
Mama fry ’em in a pan
Baby eat ’em like a man
Here’s my updated version based on new medical technology:
“Food for thought. “
Read this excerpt from the article that inspired me to wax poetic:
“Nanoengineers at the University of California, San Diego, have developed 3D printing technology called “microscale continuous optical printing” that can print hundreds of microrobots within seconds, each one smaller than the width of a single hair.“
“Wei Zhu, a nanoengineering Ph.D. student who co-authored the report, wrote that “the microfish can doubly serve as detoxification systems and as toxin sensors.” When the researchers incorporated toxin-neutralizing nanoparticles into the microfish bodies, they found that their powerful swimming ability allowed them to efficiently clean out toxins from the solution. When the particles interacted with toxins, they emitted a red glow; the greater the presence of toxins, the greater the intensity of the glow.”
“The researchers are exploring the possibility of using this as a medical tool. They want to incorporate medicine into the microfish so that they can be injected into someone’s system in order to distribute drugs.”
Click on the title if you don’t believe me!
Since I spend a lot of time (off and on) writing this blog and attending a writing critique group I figured it’s time to learn the tools of the trade. I signed up for a free Emeritus writing class from the local junior college. (“emeritus” is a sophisticated word for anyone who qualifies for Social Security.)
The first assignment was to write a two page SHORT story about being unfairly treated or treating someone else unfairly.
(Names have been omitted to protect my image)
Unfair Treatment – Body, Mind & Me
By Judy Westerfield
“More! More!” my mind screams at me. Her desire reverberates throughout my body. Once again, I’m caught in the middle between body and mind, between hedonism and health.
The three of us — body, mind and me — have been together a very long time. Over the years the mind has grown bolder, louder. To keep the peace I usually do what she says, even though it’s often based on want rather than need. Today is no exception.
For the second time in less than an hour I retrieve the half-gallon carton from the freezer.
“More! More!” She is unrelenting.
“Calm down. “I’m scooping as fast as I can.”
I ladle from the carton to the soup bowl – 1/3 less fat, 120 calories, $2.99 on sale — spoonfuls of vanilla, chock full of chocolate chunks and ripples of golden caramel. Hard, too hard. I like it soft, just this side of starting-to-melt. Ten seconds in the microwave will do it. I’ve perfected the timing.
“More! More!”
“You will just have to wait 10 seconds.” I can be firm.
It’s creamy, cold, sweet and glides deliciously from the lips all the way down to the stomach.
“Ahhhh. Mmmm,” she purrs and declares it to be an invention ranking right up there with the discovery of fire, the wheel and Tampax.
The bowl is empty. She points out that there’s more in the carton, purposely left out on the counter, which is now just the right soft consistency.
“120 calories per serving . . . 12 servings per carton . . .1,440 calories,“ she calculates. “We’ll just skip dinner.”
* * *
“Why? Why?” My distended stomach cries out, pushing painfully against the waistband of my pants. Hips expand, thighs grate together, intestines grumble while impolitely relieving themselves of gas as I walk to the trash to throw away the empty carton.
The body unfairly treated, yet again, by me. And the mind . . . she’s still screaming . . .
“More! More!”
Bob Blobfish sez: “. . . I prefer ice cream cones – they’re easier to hold in the water”
“I love a mouthful”
The Two-Way challenged their colleagues to see who could use the most new additions in a single sentence. Here’s Lauren Hodges, THE WINNER!!!
“Hey bruh, NBD and I don’t want to bants or act all butthurt, but I will straight-up rage-quit our lease over your fur-baby, who is rly not awesomesauce, despite your repeated attempts to mansplain its resting bitch face as “pensive,” or its constant theft of my frozen barbacoa burritos because it was hangry and craving something melty even though you get all cheffy for it three times a day, or its butt-dialing my ex because you didn’t see my phone sitting there while you were getting it to kayfabe all over the table for your rando friends, or my swole eyes being from my constant celebrations of beer o’clock and wine o’clock because we both know that dog manspreads all over my pillows when I’m not home, so stop with your weak sauce deradicalization and attempts to make this a skippable topic and by the way, you might want to get it to stop chewing my shoes before it gets hit on the head with this mic drop, mkay?”
A Daddy-longlegs spider lives in my bathroom. It might be a Mommy-longlegs as she’s quite petite. My eyesight isn’t good enough to tell her gender. Even if I could I’m not sure what to look for . . .
I let her live there peacefully since we have a lot in common. She’s discrete, I’ve never seen her entertain overnight visitors and quite tidy as I’ve never found any droppings of left-overs from digested meals. She leads a very monastic existence as do I (on occasion).
A Daddy Short-Legs Spider
I’m not afraid of spiders (except those bigger than my thumb). I try to steer clear of them because when I get bitten by one I have a painful, very painful, allergic response. There is a legend that Daddy-longlegs are deadly venomous spiders which, after careful research, I found not to be true:
“Daddy-longlegs spiders (Pholcidae) – There is no reference to any pholcid spider biting a human and causing any detrimental reaction. If these spiders were indeed deadly poisonous but couldn’t bite humans, then the only way we would know that they are poisonous is by milking them and injecting the venom into humans. For a variety of reasons including Amnesty International and a humanitarian code of ethics, this research has never been done. . . . Therefore, no information is available on the likely toxic effects of their venom in humans, so the part of the myth about their being especially poisonous is just that: a myth.” http://spiders.ucr.edu/daddylonglegs.htm
(And with that, I sound like much of the world fighting for and protecting territory. Perhaps it’s not so mysterious why we don’t have world peace?)
I’m so smart. I’ve been employing this strategy for years! The only problem is when I remember what I forgot, I forget why I needed to remember what I forgot to remember.
Leigh Wells/Ikon Images/Getty Images
Trying To Remember Multiple Things May Be The Best Way To Forget Them
by CHRIS BENDEREV
“A new scientific model of forgetting is taking shape, which suggests keeping multiple memories or tasks in mind simultaneously can actually erode them.”
“Neuroscientists already knew that memories can interfere with and weaken each other while they are locked away in the recesses of long-term memory. But this new model speaks to what happens when multiple memories are coexisting front and center in our minds, in a place called “working memory.”‘
“It argues that when we let multiple memories come to mind simultaneously, those memories immediately lock into a fierce competition with each other.” When these memories are tightly competing for our attention the brain steps in and actually modifies those memories,” says Jarrod Lewis-Peacock, a neuroscientist at UT Austin.”
“The brain crowns winners and losers. If you ended up remembering the milk and forgetting the phone call, your brain strengthens your memory for getting milk and weakens the one for phoning your friend back, so it will be easier to choose next time you’re faced with that dilemma.”
It’s a strain on my brain
P.S. I forgot to tell you that you can read the entire article by clicking on the title above.
Haven’t blogged in a while. The last few weeks have been rough – the fibro-fatigue-fiends frolicking fearlessly. I’m looking for my mop.
Scientists have grown the entire forelimb of a rat in a lab . . . and it moves!
Bernhard Jank, MD/Ott Laboratory, Massachusetts General Hospital Center for Regenerative Medicine
Dr. Harold Ott, head of the Ott Laboratory for Organ Engineering and Regeneration, and his team at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston were able to “engineer rat forelimbs with functioning vascular and muscle tissue,” . . .
“This may be an important first step leading to the eventual creation of functional, bioartificial limbs that could be used in transplants.”
Ott says this work “finally proved that we can regenerate functional muscle.” (They know because they ran an electrical current through the muscle tissue — and the little rat limb began to twitch).”
“They’ve since applied the first part of this technology — stripping cells from the framework — to the arms of primates, showing the process might work on the human scale.”
Read the article: In Massachusetts Lab Scientists Grow an Artificial Rat Limb
Dear Human-beings and other creatures, Those of you who follow my posts know how frank and fundamentally illuminating they are (not to mention how fantastically informative about the human condition). This post is no exception as my story The Tree has an important lesson for all to heed.
Here is my first (and possibly only) draft of the story. Those of you who appreciate and are knowledgable about this genre your “critique” would be appreciated before I am sought out by publishers.
Freddie Parker Westerfield, Published Author
By Freddie Parker Westerfield
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a tree. (I frequently start my writing with “Once upon a time” as it lends a universal appeal to readers young and old) Its trunk was crooked and all its bark was peeling. Big roots spread all around the tree, some deep in the earth and some growing above the ground. The Tree lived in a park with other trees of its own kind on the far edge of town. Every day many dogs of differing sizes and persuasions came to claim the tree as their territory.
One day, after years of being claimed, the tree yelled at a big black dog with pointy ears and a black nose sniffing around its roots, “I am NOT your territory!” The big black dog didn’t care what the tree thought, claimed it for its own and walked on looking for more territory.
Within minutes a little white dog with floppy ears and a wet nose sniffed out where the big black dog had been. “I am a tree not a fire hydrant!,” the tree yelled at the little white dog who ignored the tree, claimed it for its own and walked on looking for more territory.
The tree, ever alert for impending indignities, spotted a medium-sized dog with shaggy brown hair and a pink nose approaching. Finally, after many years of being claimed by many dogs, the tree figured out that actions speak louder than words. So it picked up its roots and walked away.
The end of my tail
Frankly & Faithfully yours,
Freddie Parker Westerfield, Canine Dog Therapist RET, Author
A weird collage I did in my journal led me to the Pie Man.
judy’s journal collage
Pie Dream
The pie man delivers
in the dark of night
To your brain he goes straight
when it’s quiet and late
not to give you a fright
He’s a curious sight
Wearing pie on his head,
very berry red
a flaky vest on his chest
he‘s a living taste test
His eyes are wacky
lips are smacky
from too much snacky
of tasty pie
a slightly weird guy
Pie Man, After his midnight snack
But you’ll think him quite swell
because he’ll never tell
how much you eat
in your dreamy treat
Strawberry, apple or cherry pie
give them all a try
Pecan if you like a crunchy start
Key lime or lemon for sweet ‘n tart
So when you go to bed
No need for dread
chocolate, banana, coconut cream
each taste a luscious dreamy dream
Eat all you crave in your reveries
Pie man guarantees
no calories
Stroppy became famous from Esther Newton’s weekly writing challenge.
For those of you new to my blog read the beginning of the story below to learn how Stroppy and her lonely astronaut ended up in the black abyss of outer space.
_______________________
Writing challenge #3 – A 10-word story using the following 5 words: Fedora, Patagonia, pink, melancholy, and Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (apparently the longest word in the dictionary, meaning a lung disease caused by inhalation of very fine silica or quartz dust – which, as we all know, is easily contracted should you find yourself untethered in space)
*”Patagonia” is one of Stroppy’s nick-names, which she often uses when feeling a bit frivolous.
Writing challenge #1 – A 20-word story, using the words, ‘fairy’, ‘tomato’, ‘stroppy’, ‘nuzzling’ and ‘astronaut’.
_____________________
Writing challenge #2 – use the following sentence in a story of any length: “I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this, I thought.”
The Pacific Northwest tree octopus (Octopus paxarbolis) apparently was first sighted in the temperate rain forests of the Olympic Peninsula on the west coast of North America.
However, since octopi, or more grammatically proper, octopuses (crediting Maggie Wilson , The Zombies Ate My Brain, for this important research) , are extremely intelligent (“Some evolutionary theorists suppose that ‘arboreal adaptation’ is what laid the groundwork in primates for the evolution of the human mind.”) it appears tree octopuses are acclimating to harsher and milder climes in their quest for survival.
Thanks to Jacqui Murray for helping to make me, her public, aware of this, ahem, “endangered species“
Excess in life
just leads to strife
All I need is five
to stay alive
One with which to eat
Two for feet
One to comb my hair
whether or not it’s there
and the last to procreate
Who on earth needs eight?
Thanks Daru!
a judy doodle
Bob Blobfish sez: “. . . who needs teeth? . . “
Haiku Horizons – prompt FAIR
I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this, I thought, as I wrote Stroppy and the Astronaut, part II for this writing challenge from Esther Newton. The sentence (in red) has to be included somewhere in the story:
Click here for my first “Stroppy Story” which might, or might not, help you understand this one.
Bob Blobfish: “. . . I can’t believe she actually wrote this, he thought. . . “
May heavenly rain
water the hearts of mankind
with loving-kindness
* * *
Flotsam of our past
it’s water under the bridge
Wave from river banks
* * *
Washed away through tears
Cleansed through the sweat of our brow
human suffering
* * *
I fall asleep when I try to meditate. Doesn’t matter what type of meditation, I fall asleep. So I’m now practicing my own form: “Meditative Amusement” (or should I call it “Amusing Meditation” or “Mindful Amusement”?).
Here’s what led me to Amusing Meditation: Jacqui Murray who has an excellent writing blog – Word Dreams (among many other blogs) introduced me to Esther Newton, a British author, who has a weekly writing challenge . . .
This week’s challenge is to write a 20-word story, using the words, ‘fairy’, ‘tomato’, ‘stroppy’, ‘nuzzling’ and ‘astronaut’.
alien Stroppy by j
My 20-word story:
*”A practice of concentrated focus upon a sound, object, visualization, the breath, movement, or attention itself in order to increase awareness of the present moment, reduce stress, promote relaxation, and enhance personal and spiritual growth.”
Recently two very close and dear friends died. They were both younger than me – by at least 10 years. I was hit by painful sadness and simultaneously comforted by a belief:
Several years ago I was depressed. Life was the color of dirty grey. I was in a fibromyalgia flare and feeling helpless. I wasn’t suicidal, just weary, really weary, of pushing through the pain and exhaustion. Half jokingly I wrote to my Baha’i friend and mentor something to the effect: “I’m ready to leave this earthly plane. Beam me up into eternity”
You see, I had always assumed life here on earth as a human was separate from the “eternal realm”. I thought that after I died I would then be in eternity. It was a paradigm shift for me. It is strangely comforting to know we are all already in eternity – you, me, my friends.
“ZZZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZzzzzz”
English speakers equate sleep with zzzzzzzz, more specifically snoring. The British call sleeping “Catching some zeds.”
“A” is for Annoying sounds
Chrrr, rrooooo, ZZZZ, guu guu, hu lu, kroohpyyh,
and so ends the A to Z Alphabet Challenge
It’s been a snoooooozzzzzzzzzzzzz
“X” gets tired and worries a lot
always being the one
to mark the spot
afraid no one will find it
unless he is there
He does it for free
no complaints or “why me?”
It’s his lot in life
no children or wife
just spots to mark
It’s really no lark
not having a say
where he’s to stay
I bet you wouldn’t like
always being put on the spot
So the least you might do
is pay him a fee
or occasionally use
a “Y” or a “Z”
“x” by j
“I think she forgot to mention it’s National Poetry Month . . . as a rationale”
“The Vampire squid from hell
is actually rather quite swell
He doesn’t suck blood
or lurk in the mud
but in chilly, dark waters drifts free
where he never eats meats
just low-calorie treats
that sink toward the bottom of the sea
A sighting is transforming
But here’s a forewarning
always go in the morning
and certainly not on a whim
For late at night you’ll die from fright
especially if you can’t swim
The scientific name for the species, Vampyroteuthis infernalis, translates to “vampire squid from hell,” but the animal’s behavior isn’t all that intimidating.
“Vampire squid drift in chilly, dark waters with low oxygen levels up to 9,800 feet (3,000 meters) below the surface. They have a low metabolism and they eat low-calorie foods — mostly “marine snow,” or clumps of particles, that sink down the water column.”
The new findings were published in the journal Current Biology.”
u, a, e, i, o by j
Have you ever heard of the Terror Bird?
He was real, it’s not absurd
At ten feet tall
his turds weren’t small
and his face alone
could turn you to stone
It would have frightened me so
to be kicked with his toe
knocked out with his breath
then pecked to death
What could I say to not be his prey?
“Good day, Mr Bird, I won’t get in your way”
“Whatever you want, whatever you say”
“It’s not nice to eat
my flesh for your meat”
It’s a relief to now know
His reign is no go
Terror Bird is toast
just bones at the most
or maybe . . . a 40 pound roast?
“An army of huge carnivorous “terror birds” — some as big as 10 feet tall — ruled South America for tens of millions of years before going extinct some 2.5 million years ago.”
“Now, with the discovery of a new species of terror bird called Llallawavis scagliai [in Argentina] paleontologists are gaining fresh insight into this fearsome family of top predators.”
“Llallawavis likely lived around 3.5 million years ago, near the end of terror birds’ reign, according to the researchers. It stood about four feet tall and weighed about 40 pounds.”
An article describing the findings was published online March 20 in the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/04/10/terror-bird-fossil-discovered_n_7040716.html
Have you noticed that I’ve been amusing myself writing poems lately? (If you haven’t noticed that is evidence you are not reading my blog as often as you should be!)
My chronic fatigue has reared its “rear”. Sitting and moving my fingers on the keyboard, one at a time, is about all the physical energy I have had to expend. (mental energy is another matter . . .)
“I hope you didn’t hear that!”
Conversations with Kindred Spirits
Sharing my thoughts, poems, travel & art
Master of Post-Painterly Abstraction
Sharing recipes from a huge collection of cookbooks
Thoughts on writing, music, news, & politics
Self-care tips, tools, techniques & neuroscience research for MIND, BODY & SOUL - shared with a wink and a smile
seasonal vegetarian cooking with a side helping of food politics
painter's progress step by step
My head is in the tiger's mouth...
Just another WordPress.com site
Ideas and inspiration for creating art with passion!
Adventures in Watercolor Painting and Sketching, Watercolour Magazine, with Charlie O'Shields
198 countries | author | 222,000 visitors
"A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22
Wearable Art & a bit of life
Stuff that makes me love, learn and laugh. ("It is good to laugh. Laughter is spiritual relaxation." - Baha'i World Faith)
WordPress.com is the best place for your personal blog or business site.
Sparked by Words
Follow Your Bliss
Jacqui Murray's
Riding in cars with dogs
All Is One With Our Creator
.... my journey to a healthy life, making new memories and so much more
the intersection of graphic design + picture books
Stuff that makes me love, learn and laugh. ("It is good to laugh. Laughter is spiritual relaxation." - Baha'i World Faith)
Poems, Plays, Pictures & Prose from the Murky Recess of My Mind
My life disABLED with Chronic Ilnnesses, it just IS. Taking one moment at a time.
I rhyme to see myself, to set the darkness echoing. (Seamus Heaney, from Personal Helicon)
Fighting the monsters everyday of my life
New offsite pingomatic.com blog
Things that amuse and bemuse me as I wander the wilderness that is invisible chronic illness.
Just another WordPress.com weblog
An unapologetic marching band against the forces of darkness!
Bariatric, Bypass Surgery, Emotional, Psychological and Spirtitual Healing for Success
Stuff that makes me love, learn and laugh. ("It is good to laugh. Laughter is spiritual relaxation." - Baha'i World Faith)
Stuff that makes me love, learn and laugh. ("It is good to laugh. Laughter is spiritual relaxation." - Baha'i World Faith)
