Dumb jokes. . .

I know they're certainly not for everyone, but they CAN add some spunk to an otherwise dreary day (as it has been here where I live).

These are a couple of jokes I randomly came up with yesterday and this afternoon, and since I'm clearly grasping at straws for what to post, I'll share them with the cold, humorless depths of cyberspace:

1) Q. What is the shape of an empty parrot cage?
A. A polygon!

2) Q. What do horses say to their misbehaving offspring?
A. "Stop that foalishness!"

Pretty awful, I agree, but in some petty way I'm sort of proud of them. :-)

DeviantArt

Recently one of my students made me aware of the fabulous website deviantart.com! I recently joined and put up some of my pictures on there. It's a great website, and you can join for free, which I highly recommend doing even if you don't make that much art yourself!

My deviant name is (surprise!) madthinkingcap, and if anyone out there is EXCEEDINGLY bored, as in out of their MINDS bored, you could look up my gallery page. Nothin' much yet, but I plan to change that. :-)

"Food, glorious food . . .

. . . stuffed mushrooms and French bread!"

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see Julie & Julia. Not only is it now one of my favorite movies, my friend and I were quite inspired to prepare some of the delectable-looking recipes everyone onscreen kept cramming into their mouths. It only followed that WE have a French dinner--only three days later. I tracked down Julia Childs recipes and purchased the ingredients, then fixed up some appetizers and waited for my friends to come so I wouldn't have to do ALL the work. ;-) We didn't go by technical courses, since it took a while to prepare. However, it was, when all is said and done, one of THE BEST meals I've ever eaten . . . Also, incidentally, one of the best meals I've ever helped prepare!

This is what we ate--read, and I shall HEAR your mouth water:

APPETIZERS:

1. Hot, freshly-baked round loaves of French bread with butter
2. Fresh uncapped strawberries and green grapes with sour cream/cream cheese dip
3. Multigrain crackers with Camambert, Gouda, and double-cream Brie cheeses

MAIN COURSE:

1. Fresh tossed salad with spinach and tomatoes
2. Julia Child's stuffed mushrooms, served steaming hot
3. Bacon-wrapped Filet Mignon with sauteed mushrooms, fresh garlic, and onions
4. MORE French bread and butter
5. Fresh asparagus with savory hollondaise sauce

DESSERT:
1. Julia Child's Chocolate Almond Cake (complete with RUM! I went to the liquor store myself . . . <_<)
2. Strong unflavored decaf coffee


And now, I am full, having read back over the list. WHEW! It was a lot of work to make, and a lot of work to eat. But it was INCREDIBLE. I'd do it again at a moment's notice. SO GOOD.

Mountains of NC

So . . . Today I went up to the mountains. In North Carolina. I was searching for a pleasant little spot from which I could paint something--most likely a landscape, since there were so many mountain vistas around I was pretty much sick of them by the time I got home.

I never did find that perfectly pleasant spot--chiefly because it was so blasted GLOOMY. Though it threatened rain all day long and never got aroung to it, it still delivered a thick mist (that crept over everything I felt INCLINED to paint as soon as the notion popped into my little head). However, I DID find some interesting wildlife (with some variation regarding the term "wild"). The first one I found was, ironically, a large snail, sitting rather stupidly in the middle of the parking lot. While in the exhausting process of saving its life, I took the opportunity to snag a lot of pictures of it. Here are a few:





You might think I'm mental for taking pictures of a snail, but I LIKE them! I think they're CUTE. I even have a pet aquatic one. (His name is Ned Schneebly; he's tank mates with my goldfish, Dewey Finn, haha.)



The second one kind of gave me the creeps. I was gingerly tiptoing out to the edge of one of the outlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway when I happened to look down. This is what I saw:


Needless to say, it did NOT give me the warm fuzzies on the inside. As soon as I had snapped a few wary shots of it, its brother/sister/mother/whatever suddenly showed up right next to it, and I dashed back to the safety of my car. As Falstaff (and my mother) would say, "Discretion is the better part of valour."

The last and I think most exciting thing I saw today were a couple of butterflies flitting across a grassy median. A large bemused-looking guy was mowing the median at the time (cutting down all the butterflies' flowers), so in between passes of the machine I skipped out there and got pictures of one of them. I thought at the time that they must be Viceroys, because I didn't know Monarchs came over the Easterly way at all, but then I saw a sign discussing the Monarchs' migratory habits so I realized this was the "real" thing! I was pretty pumped.

This butterfly here must have been used to the camera; it was quite patient with me as I (unnecessarily) sweet-talked it into staying on its flower:

What's the matter with kids today . . ?

Teaching at a kids camp this summer has really challenged a lot of my presuppositions about children.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting against the wall about an hour before that session's final program took place, and a rather quiet, very intelligent young lady, about ten I guess, came and sat down beside me. I was surprised, because whenever I saw her in class she behaved as if she couldn't wait to get out of there. (But that's one of the problems with having a class right before lunch.) I was talking to another girl in her class at the time, so after I greeted the quiet new arrival, I returned to my other chat. I was trying to explain to them that I probably won't be coming back next summer. I heard a voice at my elbow: "Oh! That makes me sad. I LIKE you!" It was the reserved young lady, who always seemed to aloof. I truly didn't know what to say. I think I said, "Thank you," but it didn't seem like enough. She had broken free of her own personality to effectively communicate her own feelings, and my meager token of thanks were not intrinsically worthy of it. I don't know if that means anything to anyone else, but it made a profound impression on me.

MANY kids are difficult to read, not just the quiet, shy types. The ones from broken homes can be the most affectionate; the ones from traditionally stable families can be bratty beyond measure. And vice versa, of course. I feel like I've seen all kinds this summer: from the ones whose parents dress them in hopelessly stained "Margaritaville" T-shirts to the ones who pack boiled shrimp and sushi for lunch.

And I never dreamt that someday, children ages six to eleven would all be sitting quietly, each absorbed in a little electronic box known far and wide as a "DSI," all playing a tandem racing game together. I'm not sure if this is the kind of group activity with which I should be pleased. It boggles my old-fashioned mind. In fact, it boggles my quaint little brain so much that when I see one sitting reading a book, even if it's a text version of the latest High School Musical film, I want to applaud them and their parents. Go OUT. Go READ. Go THINK. Go PLAY. REALLY play, not with a controller in your hands and the sole thought, "Next level" running like a crazed rat in a maze through your slowly-developing mind. And I have to say, not really boasting, that I'm not being a hypocrite in this: I don't enjoy video games or wantonly surfing the net. Of course, I'm very grateful that I'm not, because my will power isn't so brilliant and were I to become hopelessly addicted, I would doubtless lose what little vocabulary I have left (after college got through with my brain).

It's such a topsy-turvy world, and they are such impossibly complex beings that they always keep you guessing. Sometimes they open up completely and will talk to you about anything; sometimes you have no idea what they're feeling until they tell you, point-blank, and the truth can be so unexpected it leaves you in an awkward, wordless zone for about thirty seconds. They don't notice the awkwardness, though, because they can't yet understand it, which is a place to which I, and a lot of other people, wish I could return.

I can't ever think of the right thing to say . . .

. . . but G. K. Chesterton sure does.

"O God of earth and altar, bow down and hear our cry,

Our earthly rulers falter, our people drift and die;

The walls of gold entomb us, the swords of scorn divide;

Take not Thy thunder from us, but take away our pride.

From all that terror teaches, from lies of tongue and pen,

From all the easy speeches that comfort cruel men;

From sale and profonation of honor and the sword;

From sleep and from damnation, deliver us, good Lord!

Tie in a living tether the prince and priest and thrall;

Bind all our lives together, smite us and save us all;

In ire and exultation, aflame with faith, and free,

Lift up a living nation, a single sword, to Thee."

"O God of Earth and Altar," 1906, by George Keith Chesterton

(set to "Kings Lynn" traditional English melody, arr. Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1906)

These words fill me both with fierce patriotism and with sorrow.

I wish, with thousands of other Americans, it could truly be this way.

And a thank-you to Chesterton:

though I don't really appreciate all your words against John Calvin,

I am quite sure you have since discovered what is true.

Colored pencils aren't my thing

So . . . As the above title suggests, colored pencils really aren't my favorite medium in the world. But I am rather fond of the chambered nautilus . . .

The learned gastropod . . .

A while ago I was suddenly struck by the realization that there weren't many rhymes for the word "gastropod." That sent me reeling headlong into a story that I've been dreaming of transforming into some sort of picture book ever since.

I told it completely in limerick form, the setting being a sort of "bug pub" called "The Golden Louse." The story involves a shy little cricket meeting a blustering, self-focused snail and their rather one-sided conversation. The purpose of the story is basically "don't monopolize the conversation or you won't have any friends." Which is perfectly true—and a trap into which (almost) everyone occasionally falls.

Below are the sections pertaining to the single illustration I actually like:


"You know, in fact, it’s very odd,"
Quoth the learned gastropod,
"That we never ever had one
come to call;
I remember there were times
While I dwelt in sunny climes
When there’d be whales
summer, spring, and fall!"

"And come to think of it," said he,
"There were so many at the sea–
How I miss it
when there’s summer in the air!
But I left to save my skin–
That salt breeze near did me in!–
And with my home aboard,
I’ve gone most everywhere."

And as he talked he gave a glance
Of such pomp and circumstance
It made the cricket weaken at each joint–
And to wonder what he’d wrought
By forgetting he’d been taught
That once a snail starts,
your presence has no point."

The picture was done with colored pencils, hence the rather weird smearing and/or white spots.

"A very good place to start."

I figured I may as well begin with something—or someONE—very close to my heart. I did this sketch over a year ago, and he really DOES look like that—distorted nose and all. Poor guy.

Yes—his name is Teddy. I do not claim responsibility for this, having been approximately one hour old at the time I received him as a gift. That being said, by the time of my second birthday party, I named my NEW animal "Panda," clinging proudly to the lack of creativity in names that was rapidly becoming a family tradition.

As an extra and, I personally think hilarious note: when I was more like six, I received another stuffed bear as a gift. This one happened to be completely white, and my mother encouraged me to, quite logically, think of something white after which to name him. I happened to be standing beside her closet when she said this to little six-year-old me clutching my new bear. Looking down, I took note of a certain pair of Keds sitting upright on her shoerack. The poor woman was expecting "Snowflake."

He's named "Shoebear" to this day.

But—THIS is Teddy. I had to have been an unpredictable child.

"All you ever speak is nonsense!" "Well, that's better than listening to it!"

Welcome to Mad Thinking Cap. I'm your average American citizen, with proverbial irons in practically every proverbial fire, with a profound love for things zany, wacky, and random. Although I'll probably be posting whatever pops into my head, I will try to stick to poetry (mostly of the kids' sort) and art--possibly illustrations for the poems, of which I have a few.

That being said, I think it's high time I DID something with what I DO. As in, in this modern day and age, post it on the Internet. It took me a while to get around to this idea, so now I'll give it a try.

Thanks for your patience.