Charlie

Bend, grasp, yank, toss. Bend, grasp, yank, toss. WHOMPH. Charlie's breath was knocked askew as he made unprepared contact with the Warden's bulbous knee. "Whadd'ya doing, boy?" the Warden challenged, his high-piched voice cracking with effort in an attempt to sound tough. Excuuuse knee, thought Charlie. Glaring, the Warden grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards The Cage. "Get your tail away from those flowers. You know you ain't supposed to be foolin' with 'em!" Charlie rolled his eyes in an attempt to look pathetic, maybe gain a little sympathy from the pseudo tough guy. But, no such luck. Off to The Cage it is again. Again. One would think the Warden didn't like him, or something.

Charlie sighed as the door crashed shut with finality. Depressed, he turned, walked to the corner and sat, leaning back against the wall. Was he ever going to get out of this place? It was either in The Cage, out side in a tiny yard, or, worst of all, in a small room where they poked and prodded, brandishing long shiny needles. He still couldn't understand why his family had left him here. Feeling sorry for himself, he lay down and idly studied The Cage's door. Soon, sheer boredom set in and he fell asleep, trapped by its warm, smothering arms.

Hours ticked away and still he slept. Just as he'd started to drift back into consciousness, loud voices jerked him totally awake. A rumbly deep male voice asked, "How is he doing?" "Oh, much better," shrilled the Warden. Then, a small child's voice joined in with an excited, "Can he come home now?!" "Please! Take him away... I mean, yes, he's ready, heh..." The Warden quickly corrected himself, but muttered under his breath "...and good riddance."

Friendly faces came around the corner; the Warden pulled out his key with a great show, and with much rattling and banging unlocked The Cage door. Charlie ran through the open portal and into the waiting arms of his family. He was going home! He was free! He was so happy and excited that he couldn't help but run in circles, tongue out, tail wagging and barking gleefully.

Today...

I think the world has been made a better place, just because some genius created this site. (Not my blog, silly. That's a link to another site)

Ok, beyond that.

I've found a new way to bring excitement to a bleary existence. Write blogs! Thus, considering the distinct lack of posts on my part, I must be leading a stunning and fabulously astounding life. "Please define your term". What is a stunning, fabu' and astounding life? You tell me. There are many ways to look at it. All of which I am going to leave to your imagination.

Swiss chard is sooooo good. It's somewhat like spinach, only not quite as slimy when steamed. It has the most divine smell as it cooks... I haven't had it in ages, however, my mom bought some today and fair memories have flooded my senses. If you haven't had the privilege of consuming some, dash to the store immediately!

Today I spent a Very Long Time in a Huge and fascinating antique store. Penny and Melissa oooed and ahhed along with me. It was a dandy way to spend part of an afternoon. I didn't buy anything, but as I was looking through a book titled Greems Dictionary for Shorthand which was published some time in the late 1800s, I discovered a poem written in the front cover (in longhand :). Because I liked it so much, and didn't want to buy the book for $30 just to get the poem, I read it aloud as Melissa copied it onto a tidbit of paper she'd had in her purse. So, if you get bored in the middle, you hereby have my permission to skip the remaining stanzas.

No time for God?

What fools we are to clutter up
Our lives with common things,
And leave without heart's gate
The Lord of life and Life itself--
Our God.

No time for God?
As soon to say no time
To eat or sleep or love or die.
Take time for God
Or you shall dwarf your soul.
And when the angel Death
Comes knocking at your door,
A poor misshapen thing you'll be
To step into eternity.

No time for God?
That day when sickness comes
Or troubles find you out,
And you cry out for God,
Will He have time for you?

No time for God?
Some day you'll lay aside
This mortal self,
And make your way unknown,
And when you meet Him face to face,
Will He, should He, have time for you?

There was no author noted, so I'm wondering if it was an original to the long ago owner of the book.

And this is the end of what I had to say. Please hold your applause. :-P

Dancing

There is a melody I long to hear,
the song of peace.
I wish for it to shine from my eyes,
to flow from my lips,
to envelope me within its living folds.
So, when my being cries out for peace,
peace meets me,
and together we laugh with joy
and with tears
as we dance in the rain.