Let Me Entertain You

Chicken Little, three-going-on-four, has learned a new word. She’s been working hard to insert it in as many sentences as possible.

I need to go to bed right now, dammit.

Where is my ducky blanket, dammit?

Dammit, I hate oatmeal.

Dammit, I want to catch a butterfly!

Meanwhile, Chicken Noodle, five-going-on-six, is writing her own songs. She coins lyrics and a tune in her head before requiring us, her family and built-in fan-base, to sit raptly while she sings. She uses a red rake as a guitar. Occasionally, like so many rock stars, she performs half-naked.

Her lyrics, like her, are dark. Except for when they are inspiring.

We love the sun/the sun/the sun/but not the ocean/because sometimes you bonk your head/and get ate-en by a shark.

Wouldn’t it be great/if we had a cat cat cat/who didn’t bite us/and make us bleed bleed bleed/when we picked him up?

And we know in our hearts we are helpful and kind/sometimes we just make mistakes!

We can find the secrets in our minds/we can find the secrets in the stars/we can do it/we can!

I don’t know why anyone thinks they need amusement parks, or Wii, or heroin. Children are the world’s best entertainment.

Yo, Pumpkin

Check out Hunting For Pumpkins in Central Oregon, in Travel Oregon.

(and just look at those cute chickens!)

Same As It Ever Was

For all the thematic tension I managed to milk from my looming 40th birthday in the course of this blog, as it actually loomed large, I barely mentioned it.

(Can anyone say denial?)

Well, anyway, it was yesterday.

Tra la la!

As for how it feels and all of that, I will only say, you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? You may ask yourself, am I right or am I wrong? You may ask yourself, how do I work this? And the days go by…

Dated

Me: Today, we listen to 80s music.

Chicken Little: What is that?

Chicken Noodle: I don't know.