as Karen was providing wisdom to Connner.
"The grass isn't greener on the other side of the fence," she said.
"Ba ya ya ba ya ya YA BA YA!" he replied.
The context of this conversation was Conner's game of climbing up on her and then immediately wanting to climb down and then climb up again. I had just made the comment, "A door is something a dog is always on the wrong side of."
To which Conner replied, "Ba ya ya ba ya ya YA BA YA!"
And Karen had translated into the traditional wisdom that "The grass isn't greener on the other side of the fence."
Which is when a deep philosophical concept struck me that may have meaning on many levels -- ranching, marriage, international relations... "If the grass really isn't greener on the other side of the fence...then why do you need a fence in the first place?"
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Bagman and Butler celebrate an anniversary!
Bagman, who has been grumpy lately and whining about sore knees, is sitting the downstairs office with his feet up on the desk. The lights are off and the only light seeps in from the street through the Venetian blinds. Bagman is almost about to doze off when Butler throws open the door, snaps on the light and yells, “Happy Anniversary, Baggie, old friend!”
“What the...huh…what?!” Bagman startles and sees large cake that Butler is putting down in front of him.
Butler smiles. Actually, it isn’t really a smile but just a microscopic upturn of the sides of his mouth. But this is a true grin for the properly reserved Butler. Bagman notices it and starts to comment when the top of the cake falls off and a six-inch-tall virtual strip tease dancer leaps out and begins gyrating on the table.
Bagman whoops with an open-mouthed smirk, a drop of spittle sliding down his shaggy beard. He watches for a few minutes. (Actually he watches for three or four days but in order to move this blog along, I’ll use poetic license and shorten the time frame). Then he jumps up and claps Butler hard on the back and gives him a bear hug. “What did I do to deserve this?!”
Butler, smoothing the wrinkles in his jacket, says, “Don’t you remember? It was one year ago today that we started this blog together. You were trying to run outside to shock passers-by and I chased you down to stop you from exposing yourself.”
“And you failed, didn’t you?”
“No, I seem to remember that I talked some sense into you.”
“Bah! Never happened that way! I still get postcards from the blond on the bicycle.”
“I don’t think so,” says Butler calmly. “I think we had a long discussion on morality and ethics.”
“In your dreams! I’ve never had a long discussion about anything! In fact, I’m already bored with this one.”
“Anyhow,” continues Butler, unperturbed as always, “It’s been a good year. Of course Mark horned in on our blog and talked about family and such and posted photographs of babies and dogs…”
“Yea. Women love babies and dogs,” interrupts Bagman.
“But we made a lot of good friends and wrote over 230 blogs! And a new year is starting and I just thought I’d bring you the cake in honor of our ongoing friendship.”
But by now, Bagman has zoned out and is holding a pencil that the diminutive and now naked adult entertainer is using for pole-dancing.
Butler shrugs and turns to walk out of the room, muttering, “I’m not surprised that you didn’t remember our blogging anniversary.”
Bagman jumps up, letting go of the pencil which sends the miniscule tart sprawling backwards over a tape dispenser and landing in a pose that is simultaneously absurd and highly suggestive. Meanwhile, Bagman is calling Butler back and yelling, “I didn’t forget! Of course I didn’t forget!”
Butler turns back and Bagman is holding out a neatly wrapped package for him. Actually it is not neatly wrapped. In fact, it is thrown together with pages from the comics section and gobs of Scotch tape. “In honor of our first year of blogging,” Bagman announces.
Butler takes the package and opens it carefully, folding the paper and making sure no bits of tape fall on the floor. He looks at the two books in his hand, the latest editions of Strunk and White’s Elements of Style and Emily Post’s Etiquette. “What a perfect gift!” exclaims Butler.
“Ouch!” screams Bagman, grabbing his posterior where the elfin sex worker has just lanced him with the pencil.
“What the...huh…what?!” Bagman startles and sees large cake that Butler is putting down in front of him.
Butler smiles. Actually, it isn’t really a smile but just a microscopic upturn of the sides of his mouth. But this is a true grin for the properly reserved Butler. Bagman notices it and starts to comment when the top of the cake falls off and a six-inch-tall virtual strip tease dancer leaps out and begins gyrating on the table.
Bagman whoops with an open-mouthed smirk, a drop of spittle sliding down his shaggy beard. He watches for a few minutes. (Actually he watches for three or four days but in order to move this blog along, I’ll use poetic license and shorten the time frame). Then he jumps up and claps Butler hard on the back and gives him a bear hug. “What did I do to deserve this?!”
Butler, smoothing the wrinkles in his jacket, says, “Don’t you remember? It was one year ago today that we started this blog together. You were trying to run outside to shock passers-by and I chased you down to stop you from exposing yourself.”
“And you failed, didn’t you?”
“No, I seem to remember that I talked some sense into you.”
“Bah! Never happened that way! I still get postcards from the blond on the bicycle.”
“I don’t think so,” says Butler calmly. “I think we had a long discussion on morality and ethics.”
“In your dreams! I’ve never had a long discussion about anything! In fact, I’m already bored with this one.”
“Anyhow,” continues Butler, unperturbed as always, “It’s been a good year. Of course Mark horned in on our blog and talked about family and such and posted photographs of babies and dogs…”
“Yea. Women love babies and dogs,” interrupts Bagman.
“But we made a lot of good friends and wrote over 230 blogs! And a new year is starting and I just thought I’d bring you the cake in honor of our ongoing friendship.”
But by now, Bagman has zoned out and is holding a pencil that the diminutive and now naked adult entertainer is using for pole-dancing.
Butler shrugs and turns to walk out of the room, muttering, “I’m not surprised that you didn’t remember our blogging anniversary.”
Bagman jumps up, letting go of the pencil which sends the miniscule tart sprawling backwards over a tape dispenser and landing in a pose that is simultaneously absurd and highly suggestive. Meanwhile, Bagman is calling Butler back and yelling, “I didn’t forget! Of course I didn’t forget!”
Butler turns back and Bagman is holding out a neatly wrapped package for him. Actually it is not neatly wrapped. In fact, it is thrown together with pages from the comics section and gobs of Scotch tape. “In honor of our first year of blogging,” Bagman announces.
Butler takes the package and opens it carefully, folding the paper and making sure no bits of tape fall on the floor. He looks at the two books in his hand, the latest editions of Strunk and White’s Elements of Style and Emily Post’s Etiquette. “What a perfect gift!” exclaims Butler.
“Ouch!” screams Bagman, grabbing his posterior where the elfin sex worker has just lanced him with the pencil.
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