Homicidal Brats with Entitlement Issues

I am not saying my cousin didn’t have faults, because she did. She borrowed books and would not return them until asked. She used ALL CAPS to write of excitement or outrage. And she was convinced sugar was the most important thing in the universe. So what if she feasted in dulce de leche cake for breakfast and spotted dick for lunch? Her mouth was hers to use as she pleased.

Yes, my cousin was weird. But being peculiar--or nutty enough to think building a cottage out of bread, cake, and sugar was a good idea--does not make a person evil. It was her land, her sweets, her magic. And no one had the right to tell her what to do with her stuff. Especially not a pair of homicidal brats with entitlement issues.  

So that is a hard “no”, Your Honor. I will not remove the death curse my cousin put on Hansel and Gretel. They will never be able to consume anything but sweets: not when their teeth start to rot, not when their blood turns treacle-black, not when their hearts get so inflamed they pop. If they eat anything other than bread and cake and sugar, oh my! their innards will burst into outers. But do not fret, I am no heartless witch. I have baked three apples the two darlings can devour without triggering my cousin’s curse.

photo by Liia, on Unsplash

 – for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #124: Word List)

“stirring / dull roots with spring rain”

not-quite Journaling, 68

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!’”
~ Robin Williams

4/2/2024: I’m recovering from a torn back muscle (that makes it difficult to breathe deeply without flinching, which worsens the pain), so my spring partying repertoire includes the occasional bit of whimpering. Still… crocuses and hellebores and daffodils, oh my! 🪴🌺😁🌺🪴

 

If the eclipse fails to art your sky, do delight in other wonders.

4/9/2024: So, yesterday’s partial solar eclipsed--which many New Yorkers (all right, me) expected to look partially spectacular in our bit of the world--barely made the sun look a tad dingy. But last month, at the end of a run, I saw a hawk enjoying the sun. Thoughts (and pictures and video) of the sighting still make me smile. Also, my back feels healed enough that I can start walking my way back to running (again). And that is another wonder.

 

The cruelest month’s (not-so-gentle) rain mushrooming delight for me.

4/14/2024: April showers have been having their way with New York City. But the sun finally came out. And like me, the other wild things growing in these urban woods are so happy to feel him.

 

“April is the cruellest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.”
~ T. S. Eliot

4/18/2024: Yep, the rain is back…

 – for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #123: April)

Old Enough

Am I old enough to coax lively thoughts
out of an exhausted mind?

Am I old enough to lessen the loss
of a forlorn soul?

Am I old enough to rekindle the flame
in a frozen heart?

Am I old enough to free a stifled tongue
and share words of fly?

Am I old enough to change
ancient roots into fresh art?

Am I young enough to value what was
and celebrate growing old?

Yes, I am.

Today, I dance my 47^th turn around the sun. My back is aching and my lymphedema is acting up. Still, there will be food, presents, family time, writing and gardening. So… life is good.

photo by Nikhita Singhal, on Unsplash

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #121: Youth Is Nature, Age Is Art)