Saturday's Email of the Week: Somebody Hand Me a Kleenex

Saturday's Email of the Week

Oh my GOD, I thought I was going to stop breathing while watching this! I laughed so hard during the video that tears were literally squirting out of my eyes. My sides hurt and I worried that the girls would sleepily wander down the hall wondering what all the noise was about. While they remained blissfully sleeping, I snorted and chortled right through to the end of the skit.

Now technically this video was directed to me through Facebook, but I got an email that it was there from my inbox. And I went directly to Youtube to watch it, effectively avoiding losing 10 minutes of my life scanning my Facebook wall, so I think it counts! Anyway, it is my call and I think that this video is well worth sharing, even if any of you have seen it before. If you've never seen "Whose Line Is It Anyway?", then you are in for a treat. Put down your coffee and just try to keep poker-faced while you watch the antics of Drew Carey (super funny host), Ryan Stiles (a way tall drink of water), Wayne Brady (so dreamy!), Colin Mochrie (Canadian, eh!) and a surprise guest!

I hope that your week didn't end too wet. As I write this, it is too early to tell how bad Irene will be, but she is all over the news. I wish you all health, security, and happiness, plus a dry bed at night. Be well.

Peace.

Monkeying Around

I am "monkeying" around today.

Yep, happily enjoying a special present that arrived in the mail this morning.

Hoo, hoo, haa, haa!

Can you guess who might have sent it to me?

The sender is someone we know and love, who hosts a weekly meme that challenges writing abilities in 160 characters or less.

Hmmm…

Thanks Monkey! Not only did you help to put a special smile on my face today, but you also helped me to write a fun little Flash 55 for another great guy - G-Man, our favourite Mr Knowitall! So if you get a chance, go visit G-Man for his Friday Flash 55 and then on Sunday swing on by Monkey Man's Sunday 160 challenge. They are both worth a visit. Have a great weekend all!

Little Luxuries

Thoughts of home drifted through my head today. They were like unreal memories from a time that felt like ancient history and  I could not shake them. Despite telling myself that I had moved on and was fine, my brain still refused to let go of images of John, the ex-boyfriend whom I had left so many months before. It was his birthday and his presence was strong around me, as I idled in Lusaka.  I wondered where he was and if he had a roof over his head at night. Was he still dependant on friend’s generousity and the comfort of their couches, or had he found a place of his own to call home? It did not matter, but just thinking of him, I knew that he still held a piece of my heart, despite all that had happened. I wished him well and sent happy thoughts across the ocean to him, knowing that if it mattered, he would feel them. Odds stated that I would never see him again, but our spiritual connection remained branded in the far reaches of my mind. I wasn't sure if I was happy about that or not, but the fact still remained.

John was not with me now though. No one was. I was in Lusaka at a friend of Eddie’s apartment. The night previous, Eddie had gone out with his friend, while I stayed back at the apartment and enjoyed the luxury of a candle-lit bath with Leonard Cohen and classical music on the stereo, as well as poetry and the first few stories from Roald Dahl’s collection of short stories in hand. It had been a long time since I had spent an evening in that manner. It felt decadent and rich. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend an evening alone. And now, the light of the day illuminated the journal that I scribbled into again. 

With Eddie busy getting welding done on some of his equipment, it appeared that we would be spending another night in Lusaka. I didn’t mind though, as the calendar did not dictate my days. We had the luxury of a real roof over our heads and running water at our fingertips. I had no money to spend, but nothing that I had want of either. Food and drink were readily available to fill my bloated belly. A real bed and pillow would catch my dreams that night. We would depart Lusaka in the morning and by evening, I would rest my head in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe.  It was enough to know that I still had food in my belly, good people around me and the means to get where I wanted to go. Tomorrow might be a different story. 

Saturday's Email of the Week: A Religious Debate

Saturday's Email of the Week

I am out of town today at a wedding. I should be up by now showering, doing hair and makeup & trying to convince the girls that they should let me do their hair as well. At least I should have Grandma to help me out, so maybe she can pull their hair into cute little piggies to set off their fancy dresses. I shall be pulling on a brand new dress with a set of pretty new shoes to go with. I would like to say I am a girlie girl, but this was my first new dress in about 13-14 years. My other fancy dress that has always been my stand-by staple was one I wore as a bridesmaid at a friend's wedding. I figured it was time that I could do with a little fresh gussying up. Perhaps I will be able to have someone snap a picture or two so that I can share. Until then, I leave you with this week's email of the week. It came in early in the week and got a good snort from me. I hope you enjoy! Have a super weekend!

The Pope and The Rabbi


Several centuries ago, the Pope decreed that all the Jews had to convert to Catholicism or leave Italy. There was a huge outcry from the Jewish community, so the Pope offered a deal: he'd have a religious debate with the leader of the Jewish community. If the Jews won, they could stay in Italy; if the Pope won, they'd have to convert or leave.
The Jewish people met and picked an aged and wise rabbi to represent them in the debate. However, as the rabbi spoke no Italian, and the Pope spoke no Yiddish, they agreed that it would be a 'silent' debate.

On the chosen day the Pope and rabbi sat opposite each other.

The Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers.
The rabbi looked back and raised one finger.

Next, the Pope waved his finger around his head.
The rabbi pointed to the ground where he sat.

The Pope brought out a communion wafer and a chalice of wine.
The rabbi pulled out an apple.

With that, the Pope stood up and declared himself beaten and said that the rabbi was too clever. The Jews could stay in Italy.

Later the Cardinals met with the Pope and asked him what had happened.
The Pope said, "First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up a single finger to remind me there is still only one God common to both our faiths.

Then, I waved my finger around my head to show him that God was all around us. The rabbi responded by pointing to the ground to show that God was also right here with us.

I pulled out the wine and host to show that through the perfect sacrifice Jesus has atoned for our sins, but the rabbi pulled out an apple to remind me of the original sin. He bested me at every move and I could not continue."

Meanwhile, the Jewish community gathered to ask the rabbi how he'd won.

"I haven't a clue," said the rabbi. "First, he told me that we had three days to get out of Italy, so I gave him the finger.

Then he tells me that the whole country would be cleared of Jews but I told him emphatically that we were staying right here."

"And then what?" asked a woman.

"Who knows?" said the rabbi. "He took out his lunch, so I took out mine

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Chicken à la Lino Without You

The last bite of chicken lies
wet on the floor,
growing colder as
we throw barbed taunts,
defiant challenges
with our eyes.

Seconds tick by...
I bubble,
broiling up
like the
congealed mass
on yesterday's linoleum.

Fire burns bright
in indignation
"How could you do that?"
Dead poultry don't tell no tales.
Neither does your daughter.
And flung chicken makes me miss you even more.

There is a new poetry hangout in town by the name of d'Verse ~Poet's Pub. Tonight they are hosting Meeting  the Bar: Critique and Craft with a big theme, namely big topics, ie. death, life, grief, suffering, etc., but the suggestion is to come at it from a less than blatantly direct angle. The thrust of the night is to offer honest, helpful and informative critiques of other poets work. I read a few pieces and am going to explore a few more before hitting the hay, but thought I would add a poem of my own.

You tell me the theme. If you can't get it, that lets me know that more work is needed. I welcome your two cents worth. Thanks for visiting!