P o c k e t CT

Happy Bad Poetry Day! To celebrate I am inviting you all to share some bad poetry in the comments.

I think there is a lot of bad poetry out there. You can probably go find some. Or it might be quicker to just write some yourself.

Make it really really awful; it will make me very happy

My cousin had this African Gray Parrot. A charmer who, true to the breed, was a fabulous mimic. The bird could says all kinds of things and chattered frequently. The pretty feathered beast also learned that some things got special, physical attention. For example it leaned how to make the exact noise of the smoke detector going off. That got a lot of attention at the begining.

It also learned the dog whistle.

This was a yellow lab/golden retriever mix that endlessly needed attention. The poor pooch went past the line of annoying but I’m not sure he deserved the continual torture that the bird would play it.

The Gray would whistle, and the crawwk “Come here boy C’mere Boooy!” The dog would wag up the the perch whole body swaying back and forth in glee. Then would hear the growl from above “GoLayDown!” Tail tucked it would go back to the couch. Wait a while and repeat.

I use this story to convey an aspect of a relationship I had once. The person would want to make sure we could connect and then almost instantly want to satisfy his unending, insatiable addiction to time to himself. I felt pulled in a rejected over and over again. It is something I am on guard for now. If someone asks for space, do they then feel the emptiness of my giving that distance and try to pull me back? or do they effectively use the immediately given time alone and come back ready to connect?

So now tell me something. Ever been the bird? The dog? Do you think the bird knew what sort of mean thing it was playing at?

Yesterday morning I was having breakfast with Christopher and noticed through my blurred vision that today was “Wiggle you Toes day.” I said as much and he informed me that at that very moment he was wiggling his toes. Now it is your turn.

I looked up the holiday and didn’t find much in the lines of how to celebrate except to free the toes and wiggle away. I also will add that to celebrate your lowest digits you could to toe maintenance of the pedicure variety but don’t wiggle while painting. Alternately recycle all the shoes that squoosh the piggies or play this little piggy with a willing partner.

Any other ideas?

Warning: This post contains graphic information about my reproductive system, the OB/GYN and other things not appropriate for certain people’s eyes. You know who you, just turn back now and go away.

Wednesday I had an appointment to do this new fangled way to achieve permanent contraception. This is kind of a birthday present to myself. Over the course of my sexually active life I have tried all kinds of things to keep my body from being among the breeding crowd. I will skip over the bulk of those experiments but will just say each and every one have their own special ways they suck. Hormonal insanity, latex allergies, odd smells, googling “can not remove damn contraceptive sponge”, wrappers left in the bed and then stuck to your back, finding a private place to rinse out your diaphragm while camping at a crowded music festival number among the less graceful aspects people deal with while not getting knocked up. This is all very sexy, isn’t it?
Recently a friend got an IUD installed. I am charmed by the idea of something that lasts 13 maintenance free years and give it a go. The lovely copper piece stayed in my body exactly three weeks and then tried to flee to Neptune. The escape attempt was not pleasant. So I start weighing out the more permanent options. After lots of thought I say I don’t want to go under and book the appointment for the fancy micro inserts. The night before I have all kinds of stressed out dreams mostly relating to this not be able to be done for some reason. It was about me forgetting to take the drugs they asked me to and trying to trick the doctor into doing it anyway. I feel pretty nervous until a bit after I take the first half xanax. At the start of it I am intrigued by the views on the monitor. My insides are whiter than I would have thought. I may try to paint this. Here is the first tube, cool. But then the doctor is moving the camera around and has a puzzled look on her face. Apparently my other tube is on the missing list. Another doctor is brought in and they coach each other about ways to move the little camera to find it. Another nurse, the rep from the insert supplier are all standing around me eyes furrowed at my body’s lack of symmetry. The other doctor says that maybe I am a unicorn. That this would explain the IUD not wanting to take up residence. This is news to me. The routing around to all the different landscapes of the area is pretty painful. “wow aren’t I special” and the magical properties of unicorns run through my head, only virgins can touch me and I can cure disease. Well the first part is absolutely untrue and the second is doubtful. This goes on for quite a while and I am picturing the half of my reproductive system on the back of a milk carton: missing. We discuss what to do, an MRI, the old style tube tie possibilities. Eventually with the camera upside down and looking at the monitor and moving like in a mirror the camera shy second tube shows itself. A metal spiral come onto view and with a sharp pinch is put in, the second one inserted in to the first and I am feeling relieved. I applaud the crowd.

Here is my understanding of my organs now that I know better.

I leave happy for the seeds of sterility that are taking root in my body, thinking of dams and the energy that is created from blocking things and what I will put that energy in to. I go home, nap all afternoon and wake up feeling fine.

The next day I look up the unicorn deal and find forum after forum of people who have oddly shaped uteri and how much trouble they had carrying pregnancies. With any shape abnormality pregnancies are considered high risk. Apparently if I am shaped as they were thinking and had wanted to breed I may have just had miscarriages and heartbreak. I am pondering if my lack of biological clock going off may have had to do with my body knowing what I didn’t. I am profoundly grateful my mind matched my physical capabilities if that were to be the case.

Someone lovely made my bed for me yesterday and put the striped comforter on sideways. Not wanting to ignore an opportunity to shake things up I slept sideways, awoke an extra hour early still sideways, listened to the first katydid of the season going click click thk thk wawawawawawawa on the window and I see that it is Ratcatcher’s Day on the calendar.

Apparently today we are to celebrate exterminators and hail the spirit of the pied piper. OK pest removers today is your day. So I am thinking about what bugs me in the pest category. There are a few ants running around my house lately. However they aren’t many and I don’t mind them. A few fruit flies by the compost this morning reminded me that I should keep my tomatoes in the fridge even though you “aren’t supposed to.” Those aren’t so bad either. I suppose the only pest that would really bug me are the biting kind. The absolute worst I’ve encountered are fleas. I moved into a room that was infested with them when I first moved to the valley. Traumatizing. Today, I profoundly thank every person who had their hand in making the weekly series of bombs I had to use.

So what bugs you?

The first plan that came into my head as I realized how early I got up was to plan the mint that Dr. Pepper Gail gave me. That is inviting in what people normally consider pesky. I can easily with the amount of mojito like beverages I can consume keep the mint at bay.

Here is my recipe for 2

take 10-15 mint leaves and bruise. I use a martini shaker with some ice in it and beat the fuck out of it. Alternately you can use a mortal and pestle. Now I have this fabulous japanese herb grinding bowl that has ridges in it and a pestle which doesn’t just bruise it but rather liquefies the mint.

mix with two - three squirts of lime juice or 1 lime juiced

sugar, maple syrup or dissolved honey to taste. (To dissolve honey for juice mix in hot water and then add to cold.)

Rum if you want.

split into two tall glasses with ice, you can strain out the crushed mint pieces or leave it rustic.

fill the rest of glass with seltzer.

garnish with whole mint, lime or both if you are feeling fancy.

Ok now I am going to plant the mint and start packing for Falcon Ridge. Once I get there I may put my phone on airplane mode for a few days and enjoy an internet free totally out of touch time. (whoa!)

I hope your time is pest free and refreshed with fancy beverages.