Pointless Commentary of the Morning

It will become apparent by the end of the day who had to go cook a dinner and run around all over the place and who got to relax and waste time online. I think this is hilarious. I can tell already who is busy and who is wasting time by the Facebook. I’ve posted more on the Facebook in the last 3 hours than in the last 3 weeks. Last year I declared I was done with the Facebook and actually managed to stay off for months and months. Then I “just checked,” and then did it again, and then again, and here I am, not nearly so prolific in my sharing of political and social perspectives, but still there. I’m such a cliche’. C’est la vie.

The other evidence of my lack of any real TG work are the posts on here. See? I get time, I write nonsense. I also gave Isabel a bath slowly, and dressed her, and combed her hair, and fed her breakfast, and we did it all so slowly and with ease. I love this. Many mornings it’s rush, rush, here, put this on! Handing Isabel cereal to eat in the car, urging Milla to wear something warmer as we rush out the door. It’s either that or get up earlier, and god forbid we do that. I wonder why this day is any different. Maybe because there isn’t anywhere open so we couldn’t do anything “productive” anyway.

I’m quite excited that a whole bunch of new movies are out that I actually want to see. For weeks its been Thor, and Homefront, and Jackass Bad Grampa, and no plot, blowing up apocalypse or no character development teen zombie movies. These films make me want to run screaming into the night. And my favorite theater has had one movie there for FIVE MONTHS. They finally gave it one tiny time slot at the end of the day and opened things up to other fare. Thank goodness! I love movies too much. So much a lover of stories. Where does it get me? Occupying my head for a couple of hours. (Finish the screenplay, stupid! Jeez.)

I actually have been invited to dinner with friends at their friend’s. This is exactly what I have wanted to do for years, and I’m grateful for the opportunity.

Time to go do situps and feel my abs scream in pain and torture. This is like an extra long, self-absorbed Facebook post. It’s all about me. Gads, self absorption makes me cringe. Oh well. I’m posting it anyway.

My little girl just climbed in my lap and is hugging me. This really is a great morning.

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Thanksgiving Sonnet

It’s my annual posting of the sonnet I wrote in college about turkey murder on our holiday.  I’ve gone back and tried again and again to get the exact syllabic format for a completely proper sonnet, but could not find words to replace those here that would maintain the imagery and metaphoric content that I want, so it stays the same.

Thanksgiving Sonnet
Turgid turkeys, strained into rickety wooden coffins, exit four-by-four from a ten-ton hearse. Into the turkey mill: mutilation, holocaust.

Perspiring hormones, Tom Turkey stares with one sad eye at a crumbling chimney tower belching death in putrid smoke, blackening holiday skies. Annihilating light.

Bodies, bones. None remain unfrozen. With elaborate precision he’s taken apart; neck, gizzards tied in a bag between his ribs, head ground neatly into pink hot dog slabs.

Holiday skies are crowded with turkey souls, ascending to heaven like deflated balloons.