Song and dance

I've blogged about every day for a while and am awed looking back at how posts add up. Are the days flying? It was almost Thanksgiving, and now it's almost a week after. No, really, it was barely July 4th and we were having parades and picnics - remember laying on our blanket at the park and watching the fireworks?

Now Christmas is here.

I went to song practice yesterday again at Linda's - I agreed to sing in a trio at the church Christmas party in ten days - I agreed that in August, and we put it off - and have been humming for two days the crazy song we're doing. I woke up this morning singing it. Have you heard it?

I've been up on the housetop, away in a manger,

Over the river and under the tree.

Down city sidewalks, jingle bells a jinglin' on -

Anybody know another Christmas song?

I've heard all the carols sung by the choir,

Rocked around the Christmas tree and over fields of white.

Seems like I remember hearin' 'em in September,

All I want for Christmas is a silent night!

Well, Holly and Ivy have been home for Christmas,

Frosty the Snowman nmelted 'bout a week ago. 

Bells have all jingled, Kris is all Kringled;

Rudolph, please put out that light!

Chestnuts are roasted, marshmallows toasted - 

Anybody think this season lasts too long?

Tell me if I'm wrong. We've sung every song in sight!

All I want for Christmas is a silent night!

All I want for Christmas is a silent night!

All I want for Christmas is a SI - LENT NIGHT!

There's a lot of dashing and dancing on the piano in this one and so far we haven't even practiced with the pianist who's good (who's great) but sick in bed right now. Jackie, the third in our trio and in charge of the whole party, pulled out a rollicking Jingle Bells piece for us to look at at the piano and after we'd had fun with it she looked at us and mentioned the group of ladies that was going to sing it has kind of fallen apart. She kept looking at us. Linda actually gulped. We said we'll sing this one too.

So goes preparations for the annual Christmas party. The list for potluck foods to be cooked and brought by us all was handed around Relief Society last week, and there's another Sunday to sign up. I wrote my name by Canned Cranberry Sauce.

Silver

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.

by Walter de la Mare

One thing to like about poetry is the unusual. I know if I'm going to be sung-song to by verse I'm bored and out'ta there. Old poems make me wary with predictable sing-song'y meter and rhyme, very usual; I might start that way too when I write because it's easy, but as I go I dream up the unusual in my poem or I don't go on.

The unusual, the unexpected, makes a reader smile and want to read the poem again. You build that in if you're the writer then, and the reader reads and hopes.

I like "shoon" in this old poem. And "moveless." These made me smile. Are they words? I don't need to know, I like them. I like the (harvest!) mouse's silver eye. And, "The moon walks the night," right at the beginning.  I read this poem twice at a glance and enjoy it very much - a compliment I hope to the one who dreamed it up.

Swarming

It was like seeing something from Planet Earth yesterday about mid-day when Kent I noticed swarming red wing blackbirds. We were on our way to Sam's and I looked out my window and said, "Birds. Right." This is how I talk to him when he's driving so as not to startle him. Like I do sometimes since we had our car wreck in 2002 - squeal or suck in hard and rear back when he comes up on a car quick or when one noses in front of us or changes lanes on us. I shout KENT and he about has a heart attack.

I just really mildly say the thing there is to say - it was Birds.

This is a red wing blackbird.

To my right, near enough in the fields and trees surrounding a large church in our neighborhood they were swarming. Kent was pop-eyed. We pulled into the church entrance and down a long driveway making our way toward the birds - since Kent wasn't made frantic by my high excitement and was WAY interested. T'is serendipity any day Kent's way interested in what I'm way interested in and we may take a detour- he's a  doer and a finisher first and always, and Sam's is straight ahead 20 miles. He can surprise me! We turned in like I said and made our way toward scenery and a scene about like this. (Thanks Google Images.)



One picture I can't find is of the blackbirds flocking the ground. For a long time we sat with the windows rolled down watching tens of thousands of birds on the ground in front of us, especially where large puddles shimmered from recent rain. They'd swarm up like a school of minnows practically, veer off to the treetops, then a new swarm (appearing as the same group) dove to the ground in formation, chattering.

The racket is amazing. I've heard it in my neighborhood sometimes; stepped outside to a clamor in the trees over me comparable only to back-to-back lunch periods in a high school cafeteria. On the ground the birds peck continuously for insects if they can find them, and I understand they need seeds and look for grain in our fields, like corn or oat. The chatter is endless. They love puddles.

This morning I drove ten miles to Linda's for song practice and passed the neighborhood church. 9:15 am and no birds. Not a feather. Maybe like a couple of my kids they like getting up late Sunday mornings. But  driving home an hour and a half later the church grounds and trees and fields behind them were black with the birds. It really was something.

Stirred and shaken

Today is stunning. High skies here at high noon and low, low temps. It  happened like this in 2007 too; a cold front blew in the day after Thanksgiving and turned paltry light to sunny, frosty bright. You get a cold front and sometimes with it snow or rain, but only for a while; it's swept off like my leaves off the back patio when I power blow.

I did that the morning before Thanksgiving. It's my morning routine now since someone (we surely hope) may come to see the house. How are you going to market patches of leaves on the back porch, fallen daily for weeks now from towering trees at the back door? You're not. If you're NOT selling your house these are nostalgic (oooh, it's fall!), but no, you're power blowing now every morning after breakfast.

Wednesday morning I hung the blower in the shed and the 100-foot cord, coiled, after working hard and locked the shed door tight and went inside; sat in the Florida room at my computer loving the "clean slate" of patio, and now sensing a stillness; then saw, felt really, almost an inhalation - as of Thunder gods Zeus and Thor puckering to blow - and watched then a power-blow from heaven over my back yard.

It was tornadic. And I promise you, only over my house. No, really. This wind from the treetops stirred my yard to a frenzy like an immersion blender does vegetables in a soup pot; what was bright out my window went murky dark; we might be Pigpen, indeed, from Peanuts hanging around Charlie Brown, Lucy and Linus with his own little dust devil over his head and wild, wild hair rather than the placid brown brick so like our neighbors in this county.

My jaw dropped. I kid you not. I rose and looked over the back patio. Leaves there fluttered and danced, piling a hand's height everywhere along the concrete. The clouds scudded quickly to the west leaving sun on the porch again, and varying puffs and breezes riffled the yard. The day was stunning now, like today, any threat of rain (or cold for that matter) sweeping off with the clouds. It wasn't a true cold front, was it; just a freak blow across the yard and a quick run for it, leaving things here stirred and shaken. Me included.
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Some pics from 2007 and with the kids, 2006

The meal

This is the one time each year Kent cooks. The turkey and dressing part of our Thanksgiving meal is his deal. I actually did chop the celery and onion, and I do it every year but I always wait for Kent to ask me - and after, only warmed canned corn and put jellied cranberry and plates and forks on the table. We've pared the menu down to turkey, stuffing and a vegetable. No potatoes and gravy. No grapefruit slush, no rolls, no condiments. If guests come (like last year our next door neighbor) we do all that, but if it's us . . . no, that all takes up room where we want the stuffing to be.

The corn I served up was bliiiick - since we left Utah we've not found corn to eat other than what we've grown that's worth a lick. Even the Green Giant Steamers corn isn't tender, and that's what we want: sweet and tender. Used to be able to buy sweet white corn in great bags at Costco ages ago . . . and we warmed it in butter for Sunday dinners with the kids . . . wishful thinking . . . that, and Grandma Sycamore's white bread.

Anyway the corn WAS horrible so we scraped it into the trash. 

Now I DID make pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving is not Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie. I had none, I don't like it, but it's important to the cook. We ate turkey sandwiches for dinner later, but it was much later before we would get to that.

How was your Thanksgiving?

Turkey Day

Thankful for the bird. Happy Thanksgiving!

Thankful, grateful, blessed

I don't guess a list of things a person's thankful for and would put on her blog HAS to be lengthy. A few words might express it if they're well chosen. I go forth and back between all the little and big things I'm grateful for this day before Thanksgiving. The little things grab my attention quick and make me smile. The big things take my breath away. Big things often are kept inside and thanked for quite reverently, not casually. Little things, the ordinary life, can be breathed out like prayer any hour of the day.

Mercy 

Jesus Christ - Children - Home - Scriptures - Health - Food - Friends - Beauty - Books - Love - Pain

Faith - Music - Grandchildren - Animals - Nature - Color - Spouse - Law - Parents - Water - Life - Hope

Mercy

My shortlist.

Happy today because

I am happy today because

...i saw four families i know in Walmart

...there's a lock box on the front door now
though no sign in the yard

...the moon has been full two mornings in a row

...my children are happy

...it's two days till thanksgiving

...i saw harry potter yesterday with linda

...we're still gathering peas and tomatoes from the vine

Isn't it Romantic

On a scale of one to ten, Nat - romantic being one and realistic ten - what am I, asked Kent.

(Last night.) I had to think about it.


Six.

Really? That surprises me.

Sure, I said. You sing silly songs and love classical music; you're corny but don't mind hugs and kisses. Now you won't dance, I didn't say... you think deep and listen pretty well and even watch chic flicks and cry. You wrote me a poem once.

He was holding my hand.

I guess people who don't live with you would be right to say you're a TEN, I mentioned. You do cut to the chase pretty fast.

"THAT guy romantic? they'd say... Silly? Nah, nah nah." They must work for you or sit by you in Sunday School or are an officer at the credit union, and sure don't know you play Farkle.

This morning Kent got up twenty minutes after the alarm and came out of the bedroom singing O What A Beautiful Morning. I'm sitting at the computer in the Florida room watching a full moon in a lightening sky through open blinds and working on the computer. He sweeps me off my feet in long kiss and I say look at the moon!

He does.

Story

Not ONCE in more than seven years have I bought pecans.

Well, once. Today.

I knew when this thing I'm going to write about now had only-just-barely happened last night I would NOT be bloggin' it. I would not. "I will not write this," I said, through my teeth.

I was hot mad. To change subjects (but I'll be back), have you seen the AFLAC commercial with the goat? Instead of the duck? Here. (link) You've gotta see it. Hit the linky right now and laugh!

So I was hot (I'm back) because I dropped a pan of, mm,



Seven Layer Bars on the floor by the fridge - hot from the oven. And mad. It went over head first off the cooling rack I was holding it on. First I was happy it was so caramelized on top like the recipe says it should be when I pulled it from the oven, bubbling; now I'm in shock. And it's on my shoes.

Kent came running to the kitchen. Might've dropped his newspaper he came so fast. He'd been sitting around not exactly caring but hoping something good was coming from the kitchen soon and now he stood by me and we looked on the floor and he said, it's okay, it's okay. It sure SURE wasn't.

Can I help? he said. And he would've. Don't worry, he said, it's okay. (What's he gonna' do?) Well I said no and glared and got down on my hands and knees with a kitchen rag and a spatula. I went from hot to scalding as I picked up the goo with my hands (it sticks, owwww) because the spatula smeared chocolate and butterscotch like fingerpaints on the floor. I went from scalding to bawling, and big tears dropped in the goo and my nose began to run. (Certainly not too much information - I was fuming - have you never? - and it just was all a mess.)

It felt like I had dropped a BABY. That's weird huh since these hours later I'm looking back and thinking lighten up, but it felt bad to have all that good (and I had wanted to eat it when it was cooled!!!) (and couldn't some of this be saved?) (even?) spread over the floor and half way up the fridge. My clean floor from yesterday mopping and ultra clean fridge from yesterday, mostly having gotten inside it and scrubbed. Over the floor and half way up the fridge and deep now into the tile grout and now melting into the one hinge at the bottom of the fridge door. The worst kind of luck; poor management at least - stupid; a slap; betrayal.

I bawled like a baby cleaning that mess and missing my dessert. The funny thing is (seriously) that I also thought the whole time about the AFLAC goat

chewing, grinding its teeth and wagging its beard. I'm crying and dripping and part of me has separated mentally and is considering calmly that I should have said, when Kent said "can I help..." nah, nah, nah.

Now go watch the YouTube video if you haven't. :)

I bought pecans today because the last of all I had went down the disposal with the seven layer bars, which should look ← like this in The End.

Good enough

This is a work day. Of the meanest sort. Meaning down and dirty. Kent and I gathered the last of the stuff for the storage unit and loaded it into a pickup he borrowed and in two trips he had it stashed. While he went I worked in the guest bathroom, floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Rugs are washed even. Seven (plus) years here, and there's a first time for everything: we took down the over-mirror light fixtures and dusted and washed them. Everything around here for that matter is shining. I stood at the back door wiping glass a few minutes ago and looked at the threshold at my toes and then up the main door and onto the paned windows in it behind the wood blinds (sheesh grime everywhere) then to the door jamb and well, you know, lots of Windex got used and a whole roll of paper towel. The trash is full of wet grimy stuff.

Kent's mower bags were full too when I went out to see what he's been doing just now, full of pecan leaves and sticks and nuts - he stood at the garden and emptied these onto existing piles, all in dust, then walked toward me holding five tomatoes he picked. I stood in place as he returned to his mower, holding the tomatoes in my shirt (now my hair is skinned back into a ponytail and my bangs and side wings held by combs - not pretty), and watched him mow more. He's like a yard cowboy cavorting all over the yard throwing his hands up when he knows I'm watching, and he did and I was. I grinned and came in and should have washed the tomatoes but didn't and am officially POOPED!

Happy to be typing. Less mess here for a minute for my chapped little hands to come in contact with. There's not lots still to do (all for pictures to be taken Monday morning here by the RE company, and no way tomorrow will we be cleaning) but scrubbing the barbecue cover of mildew; dusting and vacuuming; stashing a couple of boxes somewhere (help!); emptying trash; sweeping the front porch and watering the potted plants. It's all gotta look good and so it does.

Now how do you live in your house without messing it up? I wann'a know - not kidding. The minute I even comb my hair I have a hair on the floor, or brush my teeth... toothpaste splatters on the sink or mirror. One day, one day I'll give you, and there'll be dust on my furniture. All. Is it like this at your house? I noticed as Kent made his passes across the yard earlier gathering leaves and nuts how pristine, absolutely, the yard looks.



I looked up then as the wind caught at my ponytail and I and the yard were showered with leaves. Standing holding the tomatoes I realize good enough is what there is. Good enough is fine. So what if there's a hair on the floor or toothpaste (a little) on the mirror, or a featherweight of leaves in the grass.

So it goes.

Flavors of Fall

Seriously - doesn't this (link) look good!

Beef, Mushroom, and Barley Soup


4 tbsp olive oil
¾ lb. beef stew meat cut into ½ inch pieces
¼ tsp salt
Fresh ground black pepper
1 med onion, diced
8 oz. button mushrooms, coarsely chopped
2 med. carrots, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp herbs de Provence
6 cups low sodium beef broth
1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes
½ cup barley
½ cup frozen peas
½ cup frozen or fresh black eyed peas

In a large soup pot heat 2 tbsp olive oil over med high heat.  Season beef with salt and pepper and add to hot soup pot.  Cook over med high heat, stirring as needed for about 10 minutes.  Remove meat and place in a bowl.  Add the other 2 tbsp of olive oil; add onion, mushrooms, carrots, celery, garlic and herbs.  Saute over med high heat for 7-10 minutes until vegetables are tender…being careful not to brown.  Return meat to pot, add beef broth, tomatoes, and barley.  Simmer over low heat for 50 minutes.  Add peas and black eyed peas and continue simmering for 30 minutes. Serve. Makes 6-8 adult servings.
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It's getting cold at night. Our peas and tomatoes are hanging on though. I have seven bright tomatoes on the counter - you'd think it was high summer. I got home from Relief Society last night late with left over refreshments - cheese and crackers and a fruit salad - and commenced picking at these, eating as I plunked down on the couch, and Kent poked his head 'round the corner and looked at me and said you don't want to be eating that right now . . . cryptic I thought. I waited mid-chew and stared. He sauntered to the fridge and produced a deep cereal-size bowl filled with fresh green peas.

Number one: They were right in front of me, a kiss of spring on this chilly night . . .

Number two: Kent had had to pick them while I was gone . . .  (a little work)

Number three:  . . . and shell them . . . (major work, wow)

Number four:  . . . and wait for me to come home to eat them with him. (true love)

I said you're kidding all elated, and put down the left overs and got out a sauce pan and poured the peas in and we boiled them just a few minutes and soaked them in butter later and salt and pepper and ate them!  Sitting at the kitchen table with place mats and everything. We just grinned . . . us two at 9:30 p.m. eating the brightest greenest happiest peas on earth. Their little umbilical cords (I call them, from the vines) still gently on them, so tender. A form of grace were these peas. Better than a Klondike bar.
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Every leaf is off each of the two green ash in the front yard. They turned one day last week, suddenly, golden as a sunset, then overnight in wind the leaves came off.

The ornamental Bradford Pears around, and others like these, are beginning to redden. Deeply, at the tops and blushing downward through summer green still . . . Kent showed me these looking from the bedroom window this morning through the back yard.

Pecans are underfoot.

There have been high cloudless days - rare for here.

I look and see every which way the beautiful world.

Organizing stuff

My back is creaky today from bending at the waist over boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff, packing and taping the last of things I've pulled from closets and drawers and corners and from off table and counter tops and out of shelves, etc. All what we don't want showing when the house itself shows with real estate agents starting Monday. Some things are not so little and I've carried far too much in the week,

including packed boxes and furniture and the vacuum cleaner, to feel quite perky now. Though I've paced myself. Though I've been smart. It's just, I am creakier than I used to be and should take my time and bend at the knees. I'm kind of gimping around right now so it's time to quit. Time right now for a nap.

Then I'm off to Relief Society Meeting where tonight I'm one of the teachers. Good that you can work and think at the same time for days because I"ve been needing to work steadily during the last couple of weeks and that's about the time I've been given to organize my lesson on the Temple for tonight. In the early hours right before I get out of bed most mornings I'm lucid, and have in the last few mornings whisked together my ideas for my lesson, and have been able today to type it up. SO glad the brain runs faster than the body!

Small Graces

I've read several books - Peace is Every Step and Learning to Fall come to mind, and recently Cry, the Beloved Country - which satisfy me the way a drink of cool water does when I'm thirsty. Sometimes I've kind of held my breath as I've read in these, passages from each. And then in a minute hear myself letting go.

Small Graces is this kind of read. It's a small book, one I picked up as I saw its subtitle The Quiet Gifts of Everyday Life, and I've been wanting to take it in for a while like a tall drink of water.

I finished it last night. There's a parallel between my actual day yesterday and the book's context: The inside jacket says, "Small Graces reminds us to chart a course each day that nourishes the soul, honors the body, and engages the mind." The first of its twenty pieces begins, "I have risen early today" and the last, "Night is closing in. It is time for sleep. I have walked a quiet path today . . . " Every small chapter in between is like unto the 24-hour day which, if we notice a day's subtle shifts, we recognize.

I wrote there is a parallel between my day yesterday and the book. Yesterday morning when I opened the blinds I saw the daylight was weird. Weirdly beautiful; doesn't this happen once in a while? The thing you're used to looking at in its certain light at this certain moment just is transformed! Transfigured! I grabbed my camera and ran out in it and stood turning 360 degrees taking pictures. Of the sunlight glinting over my rooftop; of it streaming over yellowing Yoshino Cherry and red oak in my back yard; of it emblazoning the trees to the west of the neighborhood as with fire. And of the rainbow, no double rainbow now, just over the neighbor's house in the blue morning. How does a Kodak even capture heaven? So it doesn't, and I knew it and I was holding my breath and I drank it in.

To end my day then I finished reading Small Graces. From morning, and shifting through afternoon and then as rain and night has closed in about six o'clock I've had my day such as it is, and I'm grateful to go out with a prayer. 

"I have walked a quiet path today. This was the day I was given, and I have tried to meet it with a humble heart." (Small Graces, Kent Nerburn)

The book began beautifully and ended so. And so did my day.

What attracts . . .

Have you ever wondered what it is that TOTALLY attracts you to something?

Makes you look once, and then again?

Up close . . .

(Like when in 2001 I stepped up to Kent at ballroom dance class and, well, not knowing him but liking what I saw(!), patted [er, slapped] him on the pecs, saying, you're Kent! Well he knew that.)

(We talk about that still and he's surprised he didn't bolt.)

Think about it in a new way?

I love this crazy artwork.

Can't explain it, really.

Don't want to - just enjoying it!

15 Ways

A good friend gave a talk in Sacrament Meeting on the Spirit (back in August) and included this list of twenty ways to tell when you have it↑and when you don't↓; which I've condensed here to fifteen so they'd fit on a piece of paper.

From a talk by President James E. Faust, he includes:

Some guidelines and rules are necessary if one is to be the recipient of revelation and inspiration. They include

(1) to try honestly and sincerely to keep God's commandments

(2) to be spiritually attuned as a receiver of a divine message

(3) to ask God in humble, fervent prayer, and

(4) to seek answers with unwavering faith

If needed, it is possible, like Nephi, to be led completely by the Spirit, "not knowing beforehand" what should be done. (1 Ne. 4:6)

Personal revelation comes as a testimony of truth and as guidance in spiritual and temporal matters. Latter-day Saints know that the promptings of the Spirit may be received upon all facets of life, including daily, ongoing decisions. Without seeking the inspiration of the Almighty God, how could anyone think of making an important decision such as "Who is to be my companion?" "What is my work to be?" "Where will I live?" "How will I live?"

Big life questions with one clarion answer. I heard this talk weeks ago in church with joy - because it reminds me and assures me how and that I can make my decisions with confidence, big and little. I especially love the big list above, fifteen ways... checks and balances I can refer to... to measure how I'm doing keeping the Spirit in my life.

A bug and smug

What are you gonn'a do when you go for the remote and there's a ladybug on it? ;-)



Kent in the corn and peas. The corn is gone - eaten - but the peas ohmegosh are tall as he is.

Happy today because

I am happy today because

...the tangerine-glazed pumpkin cookies turned out great

...our offer was accepted on the house!

...the plantation shutters are finally dusted

...it's almost the weekend, hooray

...it's gotten sooooo much colder

...auburn is undefeated still!

...my lesson for relief society this sunday is ready

Tangerine-Glazed Pumpkin Cookies

fyi i revisited my former post - scroll down for a little changeup...

From Health Magazine 2005 and this link:
Cookies:
    * Cooking spray
    * 1  cup  plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
    * 1  teaspoon  baking powder
    * 1/2  teaspoon  baking soda
    * 1/2  teaspoon  five-spice powder
    * 1/4  teaspoon  salt
    * 1/2  cup  sugar
    * 1/4  cup  unsalted butter, softened
    * 1/2  teaspoon  finely grated tangerine zest
    * 1/2  cup  canned pumpkin
    * 1  large egg
    * 1/2  teaspoon  vanilla extract
Glaze:
    * 2  cups  powdered sugar
    * 2  tablespoons  fresh tangerine juice
    * 2 1/2  tablespoons  fresh lemon juice

1. Preheat oven to 375°, and spray 2 large baking sheets with cooking spray.

2. For cookies: Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, five-spice powder, and salt in a medium bowl.

3. Beat sugar, butter, and zest with an electric mixer on medium speed in a large bowl until light and fluffy. Beat in pumpkin, egg, and vanilla until blended. Reduce speed to low, and beat in the flour mixture just until blended.

4. Drop cookie dough by rounded teaspoonfuls onto baking sheets. Bake for 12 minutes, or until cookies are lightly browned. Cool 10 minutes on cooling racks.

5. For glaze: Whisk together all in-gredients in a large bowl until sugar is dissolved. Drizzle glaze evenly over cookies. Let cool until glaze is set.

You know what, really . . .  these are great! This morning I made 'em and, oh, please! The Chinese 5-spice powder does things (is there anise in it? - gotta' check), along with the glaze which is lemony-tangy. Tangerine zest makes the cookie bright and is a little different. Wish I could share a bite!

Catch phrase

I drove Kent to work this morning and he happened to see a Florida Gator logo on a license plate near us. At first he thought it could be Auburn and was all about it, but when the car came past he saw the Gator. (Aww.) He made comments about specialized car tags and I followed with I wouldn't be advertising my stuff on my car. That's all usually here today and gone tomorrow . . . one day a prince, and one day a fool. 

That sounded cool while I ad libbed.

I went on,

pretending I had a good ending

for a poem a few different ways,

since
one day a prince and one day a fool

is a catchy and pretty cool phrase.

(just had to . . . )

-----
Abbie 2008