In another world, life is cold and grey and frozen water hangs in the air like crystals, obscuring the view through the trees. The trees are tall and straight, and impossibly close together. The occasional rodent skitters through mingled ice flakes and needles littering the forest floor. The trees breathe silently, and the heat of their breath melts the air just enough that icicles drip gracefully from every branch. Occasionally out of the gloom one of them creaks and sighs, but mostly they are content to sleep and to wait.
Long ago the Demons from the North passed through this forest on their way to invade the stronghold of Hedgemony. They were driven back (details are vague, but so they were, and there was heroism involved), and for an age the wood echoed their shrieks and cries. Now they are still again, and the battle all but forgotten.
This forest is now home to the rare and beautiful Cactus Moth, an icy blue, timid creature the size of a small wombat. They perch on the larger icicles to cool their feet, which are perpetually hot enough to be on fire. Occasionally one is too long away from a perch, and then its feet start to smoke. Sometimes it does not remedy the problem in time, and then it spontaneously combusts with a quiet little *piff!* in a cloud of blue smoke.
Well, really. What do YOU think about on a Tuesday afternoon?
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Thoughts on Food
Sooo.
Dad always buys the Root Beer that comes in bottles. This is a good thing because the only time Sar will give me a coolness factor of more than zero is when I’m drinking out of one of those. The rest of the time I’m pretty sure I’m in at least the low negatives.
I was having one this evening and, being temporarily done, I attempted to replace the cap. *foomp!* It jumped back off. It does that sometimes. I tried again. *foomp!* Huh. Again. *foomp!* Well. I put it on extra-tight. *Foomp!!!* Fortunately I found it amusing. But I wanted to get on with my life, and I wanted my root beer to still be fizzy when I returned eons hence, so I tried once more--with EXTRA force.
...It stayed. I found this somehow disappointing.
But not for long. After various and sundry travels and travails of sunderedly varied kinds, I ended up in the kitchen, eating one of those miniature oranges. It was goood. This is a good thing as well, because we’ve had bad experiences with oranges recently. The orange fairy messed up or something and forgot to add the flavor to three shipments in a row, and they were mushy to boot. These were still a little on the mushy side, but they had FLAVOR. That led me to forgive everything, and as I was coaxing two more to come with me for later, Dad came in. “Those are good,” he said.
I agreed.
Dad: “The ones in King Soopers looked awful.”
Me: “Yeah; I was scared of the last ones.”
Now it seems, I have no need for anxiety. Forthwith, I shall fear the oranges no longer.
(I really hope no one’s ever said that before. If they had, I’d have to question their sanity.)
Dad always buys the Root Beer that comes in bottles. This is a good thing because the only time Sar will give me a coolness factor of more than zero is when I’m drinking out of one of those. The rest of the time I’m pretty sure I’m in at least the low negatives.
I was having one this evening and, being temporarily done, I attempted to replace the cap. *foomp!* It jumped back off. It does that sometimes. I tried again. *foomp!* Huh. Again. *foomp!* Well. I put it on extra-tight. *Foomp!!!* Fortunately I found it amusing. But I wanted to get on with my life, and I wanted my root beer to still be fizzy when I returned eons hence, so I tried once more--with EXTRA force.
...It stayed. I found this somehow disappointing.
But not for long. After various and sundry travels and travails of sunderedly varied kinds, I ended up in the kitchen, eating one of those miniature oranges. It was goood. This is a good thing as well, because we’ve had bad experiences with oranges recently. The orange fairy messed up or something and forgot to add the flavor to three shipments in a row, and they were mushy to boot. These were still a little on the mushy side, but they had FLAVOR. That led me to forgive everything, and as I was coaxing two more to come with me for later, Dad came in. “Those are good,” he said.
I agreed.
Dad: “The ones in King Soopers looked awful.”
Me: “Yeah; I was scared of the last ones.”
Now it seems, I have no need for anxiety. Forthwith, I shall fear the oranges no longer.
(I really hope no one’s ever said that before. If they had, I’d have to question their sanity.)