noadventureshere221b

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we have to write poems in my creative writing certificate program, so I pieced something together from Belphie's medical reports

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I wanted to know what they'd done that was so bad they couldn't even wait for a plank to walk off of.

How great is this footage of cattle swimming to an offshore island in Ireland for grazing! 🐄

Credit - midge6820 (tiktok)

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How great is this footage of cattle swimming to an offshore island in Ireland for grazing! 🐄

Credit - midge6820 (tiktok)

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If your apology involves degrading yourself, calling yourself shit or insulting yourself, its not an apology, try again.

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What sort of creature would you expect to find in Ottery St Mary?

Otters, right?

Wrong.

BEARS!

... and yes of course I'm now imagining this as a continuation of the Ottery St Mary episode of Cabin Pressure.

Just after they drop off the piano they turn a corner and:

BEARS! BEARS, BROWN BEARS, ON THE GROUND! (of all places!)

For some reason at some point a bear would end up wearing Martin's hat (of course Martin has his hat with him for this. He's the CAPTAIN. And after all, they did end up taking the piano on Gerti. Obviously he needed his hat for that).

Arthur would be SO excited, and possibly suggest they should rename the town to Beary St Mary (and would be thrilled by the rhyme)

Martin would make that funny noise in his throat and/or have to be convinced not to go and retrieve his hat from the bear.

Douglas would make lots of wise cracks about Captain Winnie the Pooh, and after it was all over would still speak wistfully of "the old skipper" - much to Martin's annoyance.

... Obviously none of this would really happen in an episode because John Finnemore would write something subtler, cleverer and funnier. But STILL. You see my vision.

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It’s finally happened.

After almost a decade on this site, I found another Tumblr user in the wild. I stopped to tie my shoe with rainbow laces this morning outside the silversmith at Colonial Williamsburg, and I heard it.

“I like your shoelaces.”

Oh. Oh no.

I responded the only way I could. “Thanks.” And then I reluctantly added, “I stole them from the president…and if that makes sense to you, I’m very sorry.”

The poor man, in full Colonial dress, stared at me for a long moment. And then burst into laughter. And said, “I haven’t thought about that in YEARS and this has never happened to me before.”

Yeah. Me neither. Not until today.

Tumblr rite of passage. Achievement unlocked.

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When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

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This summer heat got me like...

To all my American friends. If you're in need of a cool place to hide from the heat, please check out your local cooling centers.

Follow the link below to find the nearest center to you.

Stay safe and cool, my friends.

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Ah these children who always create problems for poor mothers....

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if i could turn into an eel. well that'd be ideal.

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Speef is real to me. I'm sorry for that.

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I thought he was wearing socks 🧦

Stolen from reddit where it wasn't being properly appreciated

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i rlly hope it gets easier soon bc i am fucking losing my mind

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Non-writers don't understand how much of writing is just googling things like "when was the croissant invented" for worldbuilding reasons and staring off into the distance.

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“Be curious about what you’re writing about” is not stock Common Writing Advice but it really, really should be. There are a lot of written works that fail due to the authors just being obviously incurious about what they are writing about.

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I'm part of a wood carving club and there are a lot of dads who are dripping with adhd/autism vibes who's special interest is wood carving. One of the master skill level carvers who we'll call... Jim was working on a figure of a super heroine, who was frankly outrageously bodacious. Several women in the club are uncomfortable with this. They tell me they wish he wouldn't carve stuff like that at the club. This is understandable. I felt a bit uneasy too. I ask if they told him, and they say no.

This goes on for months. He's at a point where he's carving the folds of her skin tight suit. It's shockingly impressive. A real Giovanni Strazza with wood here. Many of the women in the club, (also boomers) have stopped talking to him because they're offended.

One afternoon I see a woman we'll call Karen approach him and have this conversation Her: Wow that is really starting to look like actual fabric. Him: Thanks! It's been a really fun challenge. Her: I bet! She sure is - a lot- huh? Him: Yeah a lot of these comic book characters are really outrageously proportioned! Her: They really are! You know, when I was carving a sign that was political in a way i knew would offend some people here, I just felt so much more comfortable carving it at home. Him: *nodding* Her: Okay? Him: Yeah I get that. Her: Yeah. Okay. Good luck with her!" *she walks off and he looks a little confused.* Next week at the meet up Jims working on it again and Karen's furious. Says to me "He said he wouldn't bring it back! So RUDE." So I go up to him and we have this conversation. Me: Hey Jim Him: Hey Neala Me: Some of the ladies around here are feeling a little uncomfortable with the figure you're carving because of her massive cartoon titties. Him: Ah shit, really? I thought they just thought it was funny. Me: Yeah folks laugh a lot when they're uncomfortable and trying to hide it. Him: Mm, yeah and I can never tell which laugh is which. Me: Me either Him: Well I won't work on this here anymore. I have other projects to do. Me: Hey thanks! I wanna see it when you're done tho so take a pic for me, okay? Him: Haha sure! I go sit down. Karen is shocked. Jim puts the figure away and works on a carving of a crane instead. He is not upset.

A week later I over hear Karen telling her friend I screamed at Jim last week.