Wednesday Winks*

* I know, I know. Pretty sad but it’s all about the alliteration isn’t it?

OK then, off we go with a hope and a prayer for the days to come filled with wit and shine, not to be mistaken for Wittgenstein! See, this is why some people should be given tranquilizers. Or gummies. And yet I often wonder why we do not, in some corners of the literary world, celebrate verbal wit. Alas, likely the same corner as the lost Salons.

—It occured to me (as I checked the time on Facebook for a response) that because three o’clock is written as 1500 in military time, many things are explained about the military and the military relationship to the public. This is funny. Then it gets sad.

—Someone got caught plagiarizing The Great Gatsby for god’s sake. Now that puts stupid right at the very top of appropriate comments. You might as well claim credit for The Bible. It isn’t a matter of breaking copyright however. “Gatsby” entered the public domain in 2021. It still will be a matter of claiming credit for something you didn’t do though. Always.

Posted by Poetic Outlaws:

“The Christians stole the winter solstice from the pagans, and capitalism stole it from the Christians.”

—George Monbiot

I’m all ready for Christmas and the girls are coming Christmas Eve (oyster stew) or Christmas day (chili and chocolate chip cookies). It depends upon the weather and if the storm warnings are true. They may be true for those issuing the warnings but not likely to be true for those of us on the ground around here. If the streets are plowed it’s not going to make much of a difference.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, ALL

And may all of your Christmas dreams come true.

Tula Died

When they die I think in Poetry
Otherwise not
Seems Pain is the only ink
Between us then

I used to confuse her name with his
The boy’s
He said I didn’t know his name
Couldn’t remember it

But it was the same
With all of them
The litany of names
To call them out. The one

The same with the dogs
She’s gone now
Left after I asked her not to
Yet stayed for a while after that

All black and gray now
I sang her song
Kisses all over my face
She knew her name

Tula Died on Sunday, March 13, 2022. She would have been 12 on June 16. There’s no one here now who knows all of the songs: It’s Suppertime!; Lullaby and good night; Let’s go for a walk; Walkin’, Talkin’…

When it’s time, it’s time, but it takes so much along with it. No one tells you that.

Here’s my all-time favorite photo of her. It’s from when she was a pup and just learning things. She was so proud everytime she mastered something, and she loved this hoop to its very death. I was always sad I could never find another to replace it. But that’s OK. Later on in years she decided she would not bring anything back. No retrieving. Nope. Too adult for the childish nonsense. But then she decided she would only listen to instructions by choice. No blind obedience crap. I’m glad I honored her choices and her decision to be an equal partner in our relationship. It worked.

Tula in the park in Manitou