Chasing my Tale

The moving tale writes and having writ, moves on... when I started writing for the Quake Bellydance Wordpress website, a shiny, crinkly new blog site came with it, so I've decided to use it, seeing as every other mouse and its dog seems to be.  So for more random musings, find me here:

bodypumpangel.wordpress.com

And it's called - what else? - The Second Mouse.

How to host a hen party

I wrote this piece recently for the Quake Bellydance site, and thought I'd drop it into here, too.  The connection to bellydance?  Well, not a lot really, except, hey, when you're a bellydancer, you're often surrounded by hens too!!

Check us out at http://quakebellydance.wordpress.com

How to host a hen party

What’s warm, feathery, feisty, clucky, beady-eyed and makes breakfast for you every morning?  That’s right, not me, but I am intimately acquainted with three little loveable characters that fit this description perfectly.  OK, one of them is not making breakfast food yet, but she’s showing every sign of impending eggy goodness.

I love my chickens.  No worry, no existential angst, no panic at time passing, no awareness of mortality.  Just “What the hell is that that just came out of me”, “Let us out so we can destroy your garden”, and “Can I eat that?”  Their very chookiness is heart-warming and a lesson to us all in how to live for the moment.

My partner and I have had chooks for about four years now, and individuals have come and gone, but at the moment, we have three: Louisa, the ISA Brown, and Caroline and Georgiana, the Australorpes (they’re the ones with the amazingly gorgeous black plumage that glints blue and green in the sunlight).   All three came from over the back fence (yes, they were just passing, looked over and thought “Wow, look at her, she looks like a pushover, let’s invade…”) No, our neighbour breeds chickens and passes over to us the ones she doesn’t want to breed from.  Great set-up; she doesn’t have to feed them and we get fantastic entertainment in our backyard (and fantastic, fresh, yellowy scrambled eggs served with a hint of sour cream on buttery toast accompanied by a glass of champers – well, that’s how the eggs end up if I have any say in it!) The other great thing about a neighbour who breeds chickens is the CUTENESS FACTOR.  This is high whenever some chicks have hatched.  Awwwww.  I melt…

Oh, the names?  Josh started it.  We’re working our way through Jane Austen novels.  The original three were Elizabeth, Jane and Lydia aka Chicky-babe.  Then Mary and Kitty.  Then Louisa, Caroline and Georgiana (who is the littlest, so naturally, she is Georgie).  Yes, we’re still on Pride and Prejudice, so we should be good for quite some time to come.

Chickens need company.  One chicken is a very lonely, sad sight.  The irony is, however, that if you introduce a new chicken, they will fight.  They have to.  It’s a pecking order thing.  It can be a little distressing to watch, but generally no blood is drawn – maybe just a few feathers.  Louisa had to establish her dominance over the territory when Caroline and Georgie were introduced.  The way you manage this is, well, you let them get the hell on with it.  It’s best not to interfere, that can just delay the process.  It’s worth it, though, for that magic moment when you look out of the window and realise it’s all over.  They’ve made friends.  They’re hanging out together, sharing the food (Louisa first of course), covering each other’s backs when BIG BIRDS (this includes balloons) fly over and being given lessons on How to Thoroughly Duff Up a Magpie.  It takes maybe a week or so.

Extreme relaxation, entertainment and eggs.  What’s not to love?  Oh, and if you’re feeling depressed, I have the remedy.  Just watch a chook running.  From behind if possible.  Then pick the silly thing up and cuddle it. I’m just loving the constant hen parties.

Written by my friend Pete Giles.  Awesome, no?

Lord Tennyson wrote
poetry for kings and queens
but never haikus 

You made it Black Tie
Why the fuck would you do that
I only got t-shirts

Black Tie for fuck's sake
I am hot, handsome and bored
What were you thinking?

These shoes are too tight
They fitted twenty years ago
Now I have fat feet

My tight cummerbund 
Does not make allowances
For my loose waist

What do you mean! drive?
If I have to wear this shit
I'm getting wasted.

Jesus! there's no beer!
Now I will not be charming
In this monkey suit

Madiba speaks

Circling, turning

Lead all tangling

Keep still Kallie, or we'll never

Get to the running.

Easy now, over the head.

Yessssss!

Off to the lake's edge

Lickety splash

Ears and paws

Noses and tails

Flat out through the reeds

Race you back - ooh, small dog

Stop for a chat

What's that there can you get

OUT of the way, I need to see

She's calling us Kallie

Kallie, she's calling us!

Have we behaved?

Time for a treat.

I - think - I - need - a - pee

No I need -

Hey wait! Off to the trees

Bounding through grass

And leaves and litter and lovely

Disgusting things.

Now we're dry, let's get wet again

And shake out our bodies

And she'll laugh, and pat.

Mutt-ual adoration. Get it?

Hey Kallie my friend

Life is good.

Hope (The House of Cards Revisited)

Lying on my catafalque couch
Hands folded
Sleeping the death of the just
With a stony armrest.
And around me
The walls are liquifying
And if I reach out
My hands touch
My not-quite mirror self.
I'm sorry.

All those moments in time
When you could have turned the other way
Or made that other decision
Are like signposts only
Pointing one way, with scattered cards
(Don't worry about stepping on them -
They're all blank.)

And it's "Ahwellnevermind"
And it's "This, too, will pass"
This tomb, too, will dissolve
And I'm coming back, I swear
To this time get it right.

Poem for Little Mateo

Three little feathery fat
Sleepy-eyed chooks!
Waiting for the sunrise
Waking up with clucks.

Jumping down from where they perch
Pecking at the straw
Here they come, the day's begun
Peeking round the door.

Down the ramp they march in time
Hopping off with glee
Fluffy-tailed and bright-eyed
One, two, three!

Dipping in the water bowl
Digging round the tree
What's for breakfast do you think? -
Kitchen scraps from tea!

Pasta, lettuce, fish or rice
Beef, tomatoes, stew
The chickens love their morning meal
From the bucket blue.

But something's in the henhouse
Something left behind
Look closely in the nesting box
What do you think you'll find?

One is pink and one is pale
And one is brown with specks
Nestled warm and freshly-laid
Three round eggs!

Running round the garden
Chickens love to play
They dig the soil and peck the grass
And while the day away.

Sometimes they get a visitor
The cat from next door stalks...
All three together shoo him off
With clucks and flaps and squawks!

But now the sun is sinking
And setting rather fast
Three chooks getting sleepy
Up on the ramp at last!

Elizabeth is first to bed
And hops up on the perch
Then Chicky-babe - but where is Jane?
We'll have to do a search...

She's not behind the flowerpots
She's not behind the tree
Aha! She's in the sandpit
She's always late, you see!

At last they're safe and snuggled up
They doze and cluck at me.
Goodnight, dear hens, now go to sleep
One... two... three.

Translation for Dummies

When did "problem" become a dirty word? (The P word?)

I think that no one is allowed to have a p****** any more. We have challenges. I thought a challenge was a rather brisk "Who goes there?" ringing out on the night air, or a glove slapped across the face and dropped on the floor, thereby prompting two Regency individuals to race out at sparrowfart and take potshots at each other, or it involved lots of people all playing Scrabble at the same time for the honour of being allowed to sit on top of the ladder. (I ask you.) I mean, say the word now. Go on. Challenge. It is positively begging to ring out on the night air isn't it, and is probably sick and tired of being wafted around offices, parliaments and ABC TV like a limp frisbee. Now try the word "problem" (sorry - whisper it if you must). It even ends with a sort of "hmmm", as in "Well, gosh, this is a bit of a conundrum", and sounds much more soft and nice and forgiving. It won't bite you, it just wants you to go up to it and spend some time solving it.

What's wrong with having a p******? Is it some sort of admission of gross incompetence or negligence? Have you noticed that if you accidentally say "half empty" instead of "half full" the room goes very quiet and you are made to feel that you have committed an act of Social or possibly Criminal Pessimism?

Did I get off the point there? Right, here are a few more strange little sayings I have come across, along with my translation.

Managing Director: We are very keen to develop forward awareness strategies.
Kathy: We won't be caught out with that one again, ho!

Scientist on TV: How impactive is this?
Kathy: D'you think it'll work?

Building site worker: Access process is key.
Kathy: How you get into the damn building in the first place (and is that a virtual key or a real one? I have my doubts)

Website: ... a comprehensive wellness clinic that empowers you to achieve health (I'm not kidding)
Kathy: We're here to make you better!!

Paramedic: ...in order to provide the service that will deliver outcomes.
Kathy: ...so we can do our job properly.

Politician: Let me make this very clear...
Kathy: Shorfulob ubitty domkebab bumf.

Tautology and other superfluities. 1,000 things to see/read/hear before you die. Before you die?? Like there's an alternative? Plan for the future. Oh, you mean "plan"? What else can you plan for but the future? Can you plan for the past (unless it's to forget the whole shebang quick smart, something I've become rather good at)? I guess you could plan for the present, as long as it's for me and it's gift-wrapped. Any sentence that ends with "for your convenience". Duh?

Look, does every sentence have to start with "Look..."? (You'll start noticing now, won't you? It'll drive you bats. Sorry.) "Listen" would surely make more sense, but even then...

I just want to stay aware (with or without a strategy, going forward) - that's all. I don't want to be like the little green frog that doesn't realise the water is getting a tad tropical.