What are you?

Sweeping my sewing room floor can be a boring, tedious exercise in futility, or it can be an exciting trek into another world. Today was that other-world experience.

I delved into realms hitherto unknown (behind the trash can) and discovered the mysteries of the miniverse (under the sewing table). It felt just like being a space explorer! Of course, that’s only conjecture on my part, since I’ve never actually BEEN a space explorer, other than the space right around me.

There are creatures down there that are quite fascinating. I found this one and brought it back to the light of day to examine more closely. What could it be? I had to ask!

are you a bird?

not likely!

a little horse?

cough cough

a bat?

ha!

an alien, then – you must be an alien!

are you kidding me??

 

Well, aren’t you ANY of these things?

What did he answer??

Wait for it…………………..

 

 

No, I’m a frayed knot.

uhm…could I have 205 more slices of that pie?

Yes, my mind is a dwelling place for random things while I have lunch. And since this whole week is all about lunch posts and the things that feed the mind while feeding the tummy, I feel I must make my daily contribution of fat to the blog diet. These are useless but fairly harmless calories, so have no fear — blog-bloat will immediately disappear when you’re finished reading. 

So here’s a thought, and it’s a good one. How amazingly appropriate that daily prompt about lunch posts was on Monday! I mean, I’ve been without my computer for almost three weeks now, and I’m only able to connect at work on my lunch hour. And to think, they gave the option of doing it all week! You KNOW I’m gonna participate in that DP Challenge!

Random (but vital) byte-size brainwaves scramble for top priority while I munch away on my chicken and rice. I solve technical difficulties, plan great speaking engagements that amaze and impress the crowds (three’s a crowd, right?), replay embarrassing scenes to discover where the person who embarrassed me went wrong – and plan the best way to correct their obvious error, become world famous in just an hour’s time for my abilities with the seam ripper and the remake of previously perfect clothing, wonder about things I see while I’m sitting at red lights, and a host of other scenarios. Sometimes I even think about the food I’m eating!

The great thing about all these lunchtime mental exercises is that no one gets hurt. I’ve never actually inflicted injury on anyone in my daily musings. Although there was that one thought about that one guy in front of me at that one red light . . . .

So – what goes through YOUR mind while you’re having lunch?

(and if you’re wondering what I’d want with 205 slices of that pie . . . .)

Ever been to Babble-On?

Some days it’s hard to explain to my fingers where their favorite keyboard has gone. They have a deep desire to babble on about this and that and the other thing, and to hatch japanese chickens for their posterity, since they don’t lay eggs. The japanese chickens, I mean, not my fingers. My fingers have never laid an egg. Well . . . that may not be entirely true. They have been involved in a few big goose-egg creations a few times. But I don’t want to talk about that.

What I really want to talk about is the passage of time here in Babble-On, ever since Little Lubby went belly up. Since I haven’t had my trusty outlet for streaming my every thought to the world and back, life has been different. I’ve actually finished three (count ’em!!!) projects, and have two more in the works. I’ve even gotten some housework done!! I know, wonder never cease.

When I get my baby back next weekend (and I’m really praying it happens this time), I’ll be doing some MAJOR catch-up. Not to mention a few photos here and there – mostly here. Right now I’m still using the work computer on my lunch hour, which limits me considerably.

All that to say that Lord willing, I won’t be out of commission much longer. I’m so looking forward to doing a little blog-hop happy dance, and visiting all the folks I follow on a more regular basis. And I will be REALLY happy to be able to Babble-On again about all those fun projects done and being done.

Look out, Blogovia!! I’m comin’ back soon!!!!

And since I don’t have my regular access to photos, here’s one that I had lying around in my work computer, waiting to be discovered – again. Everybody needs a visual, right?

This has nothing to do with this post. I just like the picture.

taters, tots, and egg knots

We were at our friends’ house for dinner one Sunday – which isn’t especially noteworthy, since we’re there almost every Sunday. The ten of us sat around the table enjoying the bounty. My friend is an excellent cook; the meat loaf, mashed taters with gravy, bread, and vegetables sent an aroma wafting through the house and probably right on down the street. The four children have a particular fondness for deviled eggs and bread – two staples at every meal, no matter what the main course is.

Conversation is lively as we dine – the children contribute to the overall interchange as well as the adults. There is much fellowship, love, laughter, and even some serious discussions at times. That day, the topic of conversation seemed to be food – deviled eggs, in particular.

Number one grandson, age 6, was especially intrigued by his egg. He kept peering at it, turning and tipping it at various angles, fascinated by a tiny droplet of liquid slipping down one side of the yellow filling. Forgetting all about the rest of his food, he was totally engrossed in making that droplet move back and forth and sideways, never falling completely off the egg. As I watched him play with the egg, I could see the cogwheels turning in that little head. Finally he looked over at his grandma with a glow of discovery in those large, deep-blue eyes. Mouth slightly open, head tilted to one side and eyes on the droplet, he tilted the egg toward his grandma to illustrate his discovery. He’d come to a logical conclusion for the droplet’s existence; now all he needed was corroboration from his grandmother.

“Grandma, do eggs melt?”

She assured him that in fact, eggs do not melt. She then went on to explain the droplets of liquid.

“When I was mixing the filling I had trouble getting it smooth, so I added a little pickle juice and just kept beating it. I was trying to get the knots out.”

Well.

So . . . eggs can’t melt . . . they can knot.

I fought the flaw and the flaw won

There it is again, peering at me around the corner, singing that song. So lush, so beautiful, so velvety smooth, so enticing.  So annoying.

♫ I fought the flaw and the flaw won. ♫

I hear it even at work. It doesn’t help to put my fingers in my ears and cry, “La La LA La I can’t hear you. La La LA La I’m not listening!” Others in the office just don’t understand that behavior. They can’t hear the song, but I can. I answer the phone at my desk, and it’s in the background; oh, please stop singing that song!

♫ I fought the flaw and the flaw won. ♫

Maybe if I can just get some sleep . . . deep, dreamless sleep. But no. It’s there, in my dreams. At daybreak I arise and slog to the kitchen for a cup of tea. It calls out from the doorway as I trudge by, rebellion resonating from every fiber of its being. Turning my head, I strive to avoid that insistent, mocking little song. I don’t have time to listen to this! There are too many other things calling for my attention. I assume my most stentorian, commanding tone in defiance of those clinging tendrils of sound.

“Stop taunting me. I WILL conquer you! I WILL prevail over your flaws. I will not be defeated by a mere scrap of cloth – I WILL finish this project!!! Now, NO MORE SINGING, YOU HEAR ME?!”

I march into that room and prepare to do battle. Still the velvety crooning continues.

♫ I fought the flaw and the flaw won. ♫

Oh, how infuriating! I didn’t fight the flaw and lose, I tell you. I didn’t! I won’t listen. I won’t give in. No snatch of velvet is going to get the best of me.

But each day my resolve grows a little weaker, my grasp on self-confidence slips another micrometer. Vainly I struggle to ignore the taunting words. I offer encouragement to my shattered and tattered ego. “C’mon girl. Fight! You can do it, grasshopper! Don’t be defeated. You fought the flaw and you won. Or at least you will win if you don’t crumple into a whimpering little mound of self-pity.”

♫ I fought the flaw and the flaw won. ♫

AARRGGH! How can such a soft, velvety, exquisite piece of fabric cause such frustration? How can it look so lovely and inviting, yet be so uncooperative, so unforgiving? Could it be blaming ME for its change in circumstances? Was I the cause of its fall from grandeur? Did I put it in that scrap bin? No! Its altered appearance was not my fault – although I confess, its former state is unrecognizable since I gained possession of it. But it’s all for the better, I tried to explain so often in the last few days. Wasn’t it just a rag-bag thing before, beautiful in color and texture but sadly lacking in form? Now I’m giving it new life, new shape, a whole new purpose, but is it grateful? NOOOOOOOOOO!

Patience is one virtue I am *slightly* lacking in, but I mustered every ounce that I had and pressed it into service. I have persevered. I waded valiantly into the battle, and I have emerged victorious!

♫ I fought the flaw and the flaw’s gone‼ ♫

Well, maybe not gone. Just cleverly camouflaged.

And so the story goes – still unfolding, halfway finished. By this time on the second Tuesday of next week, I expect to have met the challenge and finished the project. And then I can sleep.