29 December 2008
28 December 2008
23 December 2008
Why I'm Bummed the F**K Out
my parents will not be here for their grandson's first christmas.
i'm tired of working b/c i have a mad cold and my neck's all swollen and it was only like 14 degrees today in full sun.
i feel like i'm being dissed by a few people... all of whom are important to me.
yeahhhh. i'm cooking dinner so i cannot write more, although i have acrimony to release.
i'm tired of working b/c i have a mad cold and my neck's all swollen and it was only like 14 degrees today in full sun.
i feel like i'm being dissed by a few people... all of whom are important to me.
yeahhhh. i'm cooking dinner so i cannot write more, although i have acrimony to release.
05 December 2008
Poetry Excerpts (That I Didn't Write)
This one I just really like:
"Birches" -Robert Frost
So was I once myself a swinger of birches;
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
~~*~*~*~*~**~~*~**~~
This one is amazing:
e.e. cummings~
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
Here is the deepest secret no one knows
Here is the root of the root,
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life
Which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
~*~~*~**~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~
This chick and I would have been bff b/c I lose everything I touch, sometimes temporarily...
One Art
-----by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
"Birches" -Robert Frost
So was I once myself a swinger of birches;
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
~~*~*~*~*~**~~*~**~~
This one is amazing:
e.e. cummings~
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
Here is the deepest secret no one knows
Here is the root of the root,
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life
Which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
~*~~*~**~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~
This chick and I would have been bff b/c I lose everything I touch, sometimes temporarily...
One Art
-----by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
01 December 2008
Black Friday Musings & the Legend of the Christmas Pickle
So on Black Friday, I'm dusting the greenhouse, keeping myself busy,
making myself as available as possible for all the customers who weren't
showing up... and I come across this ornament I haven't noticed in the 2
months our Xmas stuff has been set up... a freakin pickle ornament,
outta nowhere, in with the pretty red & gold ornaments. I laugh,
b.c it's a pickle ornament & seems mighty odd and out of
place amongst the fancy schmancy stuff. Then I feel I must share it
with my co-workers. One of them doesn't even remotely think it's funny,
not even in a kinda perv way, and says disdainfully if I want to think
that way, whatever... but it does look kind of phallic. And glittery. I
won't lie to act like I never think explicitly.
So, I take it to another co-worker who does laugh at me and my slight perversions... but then tells me there's actually a pickle legend that goes along with the ornament, he thinks, and that it makes total sense. Now, I like this guy well enough, but he jokes around a lot. So I think nothing of it, assume he's messing with me to eventually make me feel kinda dumb when I get all stoked and start telling people about this Pickle deal.
But today, I began wondering about the pickle again. Especially after telling Greg about the whole thing and him telling me that of course dude was messing with me. So while I have a spare moment... I google the pickle legend. Yeah, I know. I'm a loser. But! Guess how many results I actually FOUND about this? Well, I don't know... but it was a LOT. So, I am pasting one of the most coherent, correctly spelled, interesting one below so you too will know the PICKLE LEGEND of the Christmas tree.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
(((To Give Credit Where Credit is Due:)))
Courtesy of MyMerryChristmas.com
The Christmas Pickle
By B. Francis Morlan
It is a quaint tradition that nobody wants to claim. And its story would not be the first tradition of Christmas born of a total fabrication. It is the little-known tradition of the Christmas pickle.
The Christmas pickle is not really a pickle at all. It is a pickle-shaped ornament that is the last one hung on the tree on Christmas Eve. The first child to find the Christmas pickle gets an extra gift from Saint Nicholas. Or so the so-called legend goes.
There are two other versions of the origins of the Christmas pickle. One is a family story of a Bavarian-born ancestor who fought in the American Civil War. A prisoner in poor health and starving, he begged a guard for just one pickle before he died. The guard took pity on him and found a pickle for him. The pickle by the grace of God gave him the mental and physical strength to live on.
The other, perpetuated in Berrien Springs, MI, is a medieval tale of two Spanish boys traveling home from boarding school for the holidays. When they stopped at an inn for the night, the innkeeper, a mean and evil man, stuffed the boys into a pickle barrel. That evening, St. Nicholas stopped at the same inn, became aware of the boys' plight, tapped the pickle barrel with his staff, and the boys were magically freed.
Berrien Springs calls itself the Christmas Pickle Capital of the World. They celebrate with an annual Christmas Pickle Festival held during the early part of December. A parade, led by the Grand Dillmeister who passes out fresh pickles along the parade route, is the featured event. You may even purchase the German glass pickle ornaments at the town's museum.
Rumor and speculation place the origin of this tradition in Germany. However few in modern-day Germany recognize or have even heard of the Christmas pickle. Some in West Germany blame generations of East Germans who may have had nothing more than pickles to decorate their Christmas trees with after World War II. But even families and historians in East Germany shrug at the mention of the Christmas pickle tradition.
Regardless of where it came from, the Christmas tradition survives. Ornament manufacturers continue to make the specialty decoration and enjoy perpetuating the myth of its legendary origins -- false though they may be.
© 1989-2005 by The Merry Network, All Rights Reserved. Printed from My Merry Christmas.com. This article may be reproduced free of charge in its entirety only as long as this notice remains intact with due credit given to the author and My Merry Christmas. Kindly notify us of how and where this article is used so that we can link to your site or publication.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now another musing from me:
Who on earth do you think in the Lowe's ornament creating/buying etc process heard about this pickle ornament and thought it was cool enough to mass market it into Lowe's across the country, to what I am sure has been the confusion and amusement of not only hundreds of employees, but thousands of unwitting customers?
Kind of makes you wonder....
So, I take it to another co-worker who does laugh at me and my slight perversions... but then tells me there's actually a pickle legend that goes along with the ornament, he thinks, and that it makes total sense. Now, I like this guy well enough, but he jokes around a lot. So I think nothing of it, assume he's messing with me to eventually make me feel kinda dumb when I get all stoked and start telling people about this Pickle deal.
But today, I began wondering about the pickle again. Especially after telling Greg about the whole thing and him telling me that of course dude was messing with me. So while I have a spare moment... I google the pickle legend. Yeah, I know. I'm a loser. But! Guess how many results I actually FOUND about this? Well, I don't know... but it was a LOT. So, I am pasting one of the most coherent, correctly spelled, interesting one below so you too will know the PICKLE LEGEND of the Christmas tree.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
(((To Give Credit Where Credit is Due:)))
Courtesy of MyMerryChristmas.com
The Christmas Pickle
By B. Francis Morlan
It is a quaint tradition that nobody wants to claim. And its story would not be the first tradition of Christmas born of a total fabrication. It is the little-known tradition of the Christmas pickle.
The Christmas pickle is not really a pickle at all. It is a pickle-shaped ornament that is the last one hung on the tree on Christmas Eve. The first child to find the Christmas pickle gets an extra gift from Saint Nicholas. Or so the so-called legend goes.
There are two other versions of the origins of the Christmas pickle. One is a family story of a Bavarian-born ancestor who fought in the American Civil War. A prisoner in poor health and starving, he begged a guard for just one pickle before he died. The guard took pity on him and found a pickle for him. The pickle by the grace of God gave him the mental and physical strength to live on.
The other, perpetuated in Berrien Springs, MI, is a medieval tale of two Spanish boys traveling home from boarding school for the holidays. When they stopped at an inn for the night, the innkeeper, a mean and evil man, stuffed the boys into a pickle barrel. That evening, St. Nicholas stopped at the same inn, became aware of the boys' plight, tapped the pickle barrel with his staff, and the boys were magically freed.
Berrien Springs calls itself the Christmas Pickle Capital of the World. They celebrate with an annual Christmas Pickle Festival held during the early part of December. A parade, led by the Grand Dillmeister who passes out fresh pickles along the parade route, is the featured event. You may even purchase the German glass pickle ornaments at the town's museum.
Rumor and speculation place the origin of this tradition in Germany. However few in modern-day Germany recognize or have even heard of the Christmas pickle. Some in West Germany blame generations of East Germans who may have had nothing more than pickles to decorate their Christmas trees with after World War II. But even families and historians in East Germany shrug at the mention of the Christmas pickle tradition.
Regardless of where it came from, the Christmas tradition survives. Ornament manufacturers continue to make the specialty decoration and enjoy perpetuating the myth of its legendary origins -- false though they may be.
© 1989-2005 by The Merry Network, All Rights Reserved. Printed from My Merry Christmas.com. This article may be reproduced free of charge in its entirety only as long as this notice remains intact with due credit given to the author and My Merry Christmas. Kindly notify us of how and where this article is used so that we can link to your site or publication.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now another musing from me:
Who on earth do you think in the Lowe's ornament creating/buying etc process heard about this pickle ornament and thought it was cool enough to mass market it into Lowe's across the country, to what I am sure has been the confusion and amusement of not only hundreds of employees, but thousands of unwitting customers?
Kind of makes you wonder....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)