The Mic May Not Be On, But I Don’t Let That Stop Me

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“Are you talking to me?” you asked.
Oh…um…I guess I am talking to me.
There was an argument to finish up
So I did it in soliloquy.

Then some inner dialogue
Needed desperately to be outer,
And when I reached a conclusion,
I presented it in the shower.

I asked me some interview questions
For my someday late night debut,
So…I’ve talked to myself all day–
I have nothing to say to you.


Sure, it’s not weird if you talk to your co-workers, but if I talk to mine (the candle, the dog, my chair, the pens), I’m “socially maladjusted.” I know I’m not alone in this. Well, technically, I am alone, but I mean you probably do this too, just not with anyone. Creatives have a lot going on in the brain and if you don’t open the valve a little, it explodes.

PS. That great poster in the background is available here for a mere $5: Dumb Runner Obstacles Poster

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Nosleepferu

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I used to sleep every night
With the covers around my neck,
To protect myself from vampires,
Those monsters straight outta heck.

Tasty veins swaddled in safety,
My bedroom door closed tightly,
I slumbered in cozy confidence
All through every nighty-nighty.

Now, at least once a week,
I scream loudly without warning,
As a bedside child scares me awake
Because nothing can wait ’til morning.

I no longer need the blankets.
My door hangs all willy-nilly.
Monsters don’t frighten me anymore,
It’s my kids that scare me silly.


I really did sleep with the covers around my neck right up until we brought home a newborn. At that point, I learned how to fall asleep anywhere, in any position, with or without blankets. The nice thing about newborns is they lack the mobility to sneak up to your bedside and whisper “Mooommmmy” like some little possessed person.

Also…I know that is a huge leap from Nosferatu. *shrug*

Foam Over Substance

coffee

there is no “problem”
just because I like to use
coffee as creamer


There was a period in my life where quad lattes and the occasional use of bottled Starbucks drinks as creamer was normal. I had a stressful job and I fueled my insane workload with more coffee than was really healthy for one person to consume. It was my own little corner of fatalism–I will do this job or have a caffeine-induced heart attack trying.

Now I drink about 3-4 cups of brewed coffee a day. That’s…less? Yay me? I would quit (I have several times, including two pregnancies), but I still have shit to do in this life and coffee is how I do it. Coffee makes my world go ’round. Sometimes a little spinny, sure, but still.

Made With Concentrate

editnig bears

Sneak up behind me
While I’m unawares,
You might catch me
Eating editing bears.

Oh! So contemplative
And satisfyingly gummy,
I eat whole bags
When my first draft’s crummy.


It’s a bad habit, I know, but I’ve always had a weakness for gummy bears when revising or editing. Something about a pure sugar high makes it easier to connect, cut, and fix mistakes. If I ever need to go into battle, give me a pouch of Haribo beforehand, and I’ll be your bearserker.

What’s with all the bear puns this year? I dunno. It’s late.

Clutch Tight Your Pickanick Basket

img_7889high in Montana
bearware the ursine menace
claws, fangs, frosty floats


We went to Glacier and honestly saw very little of it, because of the massively swollen ankle and our lack of an appropriately-sized vehicle. The kids were delighted to see this bear, however, because instead of eating them, he gave them things to eat. A+, A & W bear.

Apollengies to Joyce Kilmer

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I think that I shall never see
Something as bumbly as a bee.
Molest too much the flower it flew;
It might decide to bumble you.


When my little girl was three, she came running to me in a panic outside one afternoon. “Mommy! Mommy! That bee bumbled me!” She just received a warning buzz, but she wisely decided to leave the lavender to the bees for the rest of the afternoon.

Today, the puppy was outside trying to eat the bumblebees. This seems like a bad idea, but my apparent interest in taking pictures of them reinforced her idea that they are snacks. Why else would I bother with them?

One, Two, Boogaloo

Nose party

There’s a party in your nose
And all your fingers are invited.
Show your mom your goody bag,
She’s sure to be delighted.

The dance floor’s kinda small,
But you can twist and grind.
Tear it up and lay it down,
No boogie left behind.

Tissue box across the room?
There’s storage even closer.
Your mouth is right below your nose
And bonus—even grosser!

So cram that finger way up in
Until it disappears.
When that party’s petered out,
It’s time to hit your ears!


I found this classy picture on the iPad and it inspired me to heights of verse. I’m pleased to add some culture to your Sunday.