Do you all remember the 1994 movie about a strange girl named Nell who seems to speak her own language? Liam Neeson finds her (Jodi Foster) living alone in a cabin somewhere in the beautiful backwoods of North Carolina. He is amused by her, befriends her and through his study we learn the reason for Nell’s unique dialect.
(Get/watch the movie here if you’re interested.)
Nell was a good movie and NaPoWriMo is a good way of assuring us that poetry [the good, bad and the ugly] will live on – at least for a few more years.
So what does one topic have to do with the other? A couple of things. One, poetry (or NaPoWriMo) is like the movie Nell – most people love it or hate it and two, when I say NaPoWriMo I think of Nell. Sometimes I start waving like a tree in the wind with my arms extended as if they were branches; dancing uninhibited and speaking in Nellish, Tay ina win… inna t’ee inna way… T’ee an me an t’ee an me, Reesa, reesa, reesa me. Chicka, chicka, chickabee.
And then some killjoy disrupts me with a reality check:
Janna is not Nell, she is not a tree... and she has no rhythm.
Oh well: doana kee chickabee, NaPoWriMo mos owe stee tie. Two we main.
Translation: don’t cry chickadee baby, National Poetry Writing Month is almost over – or you still have time. Two weeks remain.
* Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) released this month and is available in digital or paperback. AND as a small token of my appreciation I have arranged for Clan Destiny Book I and Book II to be available without charge via Kindle April 14th and 15th. An honest review would not hurt my feelings. 😉
Tune in next week for more #NPM.
Boogers Are Wet (Or They Should Be)
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them.
Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one.
My baby sister was kind enough to accompany me while I had a series of tests done. She mostly sat in the lobby and played games on the iPad, but between tests, we had a chance to chat. It certainly made the ordeal much more entertaining. This is how I repay her.
Sister: Why did you tell the nurse your baby sister would be driving you home?
Me: Because she asked me. If I can’t drive, you are supposed to. I thought you knew that.
Sister: I know that dummy – I mean the baby sister part. I am fifty years old.
Me: I don’t care how old you are, you will always be the baby. It’s not like she thought you were a toddler.
Sister: Just don’t start thinking you can boss me. You’re not the boss of me.
Me: Lord, ain’t that the truth. If I could make you do anything, you would be having a few of these tests right along with me.
Sister: Don’t lecture me either. I know my body and I know how to take care of it. I may not take good care of it but I know that too.
Me: I won’t lecture you. Harping on people never helps — especially rebellious people. You do take an aspirin every day, right?
Sister: Yes. Some days I take three or four — or five. Usually four. They’re just baby aspirins.
Me: Why do you take four baby aspirin?
Sister: Because sometimes one is not enough.
Me: But the doctor told you to take one a day — just to thin your blood, right?
Sister: Right! But when you cut yourself and the blood clots a soon as it comes to the surface – it’s too thick. Blood is supposed to drip, that’s just common sense. People should pay attention to that and know their body. I’m not going to pay a doctor $200 to tell me my blood is too thick.
Me: Why not just take one adult aspirin – the milligrams would be the same.
Sister: No, it would not be the same Miss Nursey-Nurse. Four baby aspirins equal 324 milligrams, one adult aspirin is 325.
Me: So you’re worried that you might overdose?
Sister: No. I just like the taste of the baby aspirin.
Me: You are one stubborn woman.
Sister: You know I will cut my nose off to spite my face, so will you.
Me: Speaking of noses, look at that lady across from you.
Sister: Oh my gosh! Did you see that dry flaky thing she just sent flying?
Me: Yeah! What was that?
Sister: It looked like a UFO.
Sister: See what I mean, I bet that woman doesn’t know her own body. She’s probably here to have a dozen tests done when the problem is she’s just dehydrated. It’ll cost her $1500 to find out she needs to drink more water.
Me: So you’re diagnosing now? You don’t know her.
Sister: No, but I know boogers. You saw that rice cake she flung across the room! Boogers are wet, or they should be.
Me: It’s hard to argue with logic.