Perhaps Polly Wants A Cracker

I’ve been ridding myself of stuff. All sorts of stuff. I don’t want to dust it anymore. Not that I am a dust freak. I don’t spend that much time dusting. Maybe once a month or so in either direction. But I want to do even less of it.

And some of the stuff or most of the stuff was stuff that was given to me. I don’t talk to most of those people anymore. Not sure why. Also not sure why I was keeping some little knick knack or small bottle of jewel colored glass. But I was.

I’m not now. Though I did keep the plastic parakeet.

Polly. Or Polly is what you called her. I’m not sure it was a her. Can plastic be a gender? And if what is true in most birds is true in parakeets especially of the plastic kind that the more vibrantly colored ones are males, then Polly is not a she.

She’s green. With a little bit of yellow.

You gave her to me for Christmas. She arrived several weeks or months, I can’t remember even though it was just last year, after Christmas. She’s battery operated and even came with a battery. You were happy to hear that.

She’s motion activated. At least I think that is why she moves her head and tweets. Though she often does it when no once has entered or left the room. I think perhaps she is sensitive to the air conditioner cycling on and off.

I got used to it. The tweeting whenever.  Others noticed. Not that there have been that many people who have encountered her. My mother and I think my neighbor. But when Polly tweets they hear it and ask about it.

Then I have to explain how it was a gift from you and why I’m not sure why you would get me such a gift. A joke, perhaps? I shrug as I say it.

But I know the real reason.

You told me you got me the plastic parakeet so I wouldn’t be lonely. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a year when you gave it to me. And it seems unlikely we’ll see each other again.

Somehow, I am unable to tell people that.

And I don’t know which is sadder: That you think a plastic parakeet would cure loneliness or that I knew it wouldn’t.

Advertisements

Every Day Should Be Devoted To Love

Happy Day Of Crass Commercialism Devoted To Making You Feel Compelled To Spend Money You May Not Have To Demonstrate Your Love For Someone Who Should Already Be Aware Of Your Love That A Corporation Named After A Third Rate Saint! Granted that is a little long to put on a card and my apologies to St. Valentine. I really have no idea if there is some sort of hierarchy of saints which would make my assessment of third rate accurate.

I have always been bothered by Valentine’s Day or Valentime’s Day as some are wont to say. (I don’t get to use wont nearly enough.) And it’s not just me. Most people read on >>

A Little Pooh For My Best Bud

It’s almost Friday! You’ve made it through another day! I’m sending lots of positive thoughts your way! In some circles, they call that prayer.

I think the meter and rhyme of the first three sentences in the previous paragraph establish an upbeat tone. Of course, the exclamation points help, though the use of three of them, but not all at the end of one sentence, gets me dangerously close to sounding like a preteen Valley girl.  Oh, what the duck, I’ll let it stand as is, because that is how I truly feel (not to mention the inside joke read on >>

Happy Birthday, Dad!

My father’s birthday is today. Sadly, my father passed away almost four years ago. Many people think they have the best dad in the world. I may be prejudiced but I think a case can be made that my dad deserved the title of best dad in the world.

My father was born 82 years ago in read on >>

Shattered

It wasn’t the first blow
or the second
Eventually
a crack appeared
sending fault lines racing across the surface
like fingers of lightning shooting across the sky
There was no sound
to the explosion that followed
Pieces rained down
shimmering like diamonds
Each piece picked up gently
turning it over looking for the flaw
Wondering how they could ever
fit together again
Knowing she would never be the same