spooning

Under the humid June heat, with the beating of the sun, the air so thick you have to open your mouth slightly, a panting kind of day, too far to the shed to gather real tools, so I'm left with a spoon for my candypop reds. The soil is friable, dark, rich and loamy, the sort of soil weeds compete over, victors many. We'll see how long the dirt stays brown, a color too quickly consumed, how long the reds reign.

Bambi is bleating

Because he can't stay out of my lilies. Peas. Oh, don't forget tomatoes. Who eats tomato plants? They're from the nightshade family, but does that stop the dear little deer? Oh no! He mows down everything without the slightest mercy, although I did notice him avoiding my brussell sprouts. I only like them because they look like fairy cabbages. Ah well. Today he ventured into my front yard, the place where I've been forced to move all my roses and lilies in a desperate attempt that they can survive the shade better than the ravenous bleating beasts. He is cute. Oh, so cute, but cuteness does not make up for the anguish of seeing my botanical masterpiece brutally raped and decimated. Where is his mother?

Thunder, Lightning, Thor and True Grit

I had the lowest expectations for both Thor and True Grit. Everyone loved True Grit which always makes me suspicious, and the previews for Thor were very video gamey. Not a bad thing necessarily, I just didn't go in expecting any kind of plot. Oh, the errors of my ways. Thor was lovely. There wasn't a single bikini clad warrior chick that I noticed, Thor himself was a gentleman, no Conan jerk here, and there was an actual plot, one that made sense even! It had character development, which of course, no one in their right mind would expect, but there you go. As for True Grit, well, that's a movie I'll be thinking about for a few days at least. There was no dramatic cinematography, there was only raw emotive acting, clever dialogue, and extremely vigorous vocabulary. I didn't even recognize Matt Damon until the end credits, DH said, "is that Matt Damon?" and I said, "Oh no, not remotely." So there you go. An excellent unexpected movie week.

Demon Chickens

You know that song, the one about ghost chickens in the sky? Did I make up those lyrics or was it a spoof? Either way, that song was my song last night. I had two chickens. Now I have one chicken and lots of feathers.

I woke in the night to the sound, only a soft cry at first that gathered in intensity until it was the song of a thousand demons screeching out an ode to hell. It went on, and on, and on, and on, while I lay in my bed wondering how bad the clean up would be. Turns out it's only feathers, not even a pair of rubbery dead chicken feet to be found.

Did I mention how fun it is to have things slaughtered in your yard while you listen to the death throes? This is why people live in cities where people don't usually rip off other people's heads and leave nothing but the feet and a spray of blood staining two stories up a building.

GROSS that's all I have to say.

Swirl and Satan doing the Flamenco

Swirl is a musical group that Borne shoes used for their ad campaign some time last year. I love Born shoes. Particularly last year's. At any rate, I now follow Swirl because unlike some authors who write to songs with lyrics, I can't. I start trying to figure out lyrics, which I'm notoriously bad at. "Peeing down a drain," when it's actually, "been down for being strange." Anyway, Swirl has some lovely songs for writing kind of transition stuff. Relaxing without being monochrome. Also, think Satan doing a dance off. Mmm Hmmmm

Another day, another bad haircut

My writing is moving along very nicely. So nicely in fact, that I decided to take a break and get a haircut. Oh, no, you're thinking. Oh yes. My dearest darlingest told me that it wasn't that bad, no, his mother had this haircut for as long as he can remember. Howling? Sackcloth and Ashes? No, not really. I sighed and submitted like a good Hotblood, knowing I can do nothing more, I accept my destiny as a bad hair case. Now I'm off to write something about someone with marvelous locks that swirl in the wind, that sweep over shoulders like a cape, that he can tangle his fingers in becoming intoxicated by that scent of wind tangled hair.

baffledbooks Giveaway

Today I am the guest blogger at http://baffledbooks.com/06/01/under-the-spotlight-personality-theory-with-juliann-whicker/#comments
So today I have nothing more to say than, Oh my shoe! It's Soapy!