An Exercise

No, the nice weather hasn't got to my brain - I haven't begun jogging or anything. Yes, the exercise I speak of is a writing one - and one I found surprisingly good - it was one of those "oh this is going to be so lame" in your head before you do it and then you do it, and it's surprisingly interesting. It came from a workshop I attended yesterday, given by the fabulous Afric McGlinchey, and it went something like this...

Spend 90 seconds writing down all the nouns you can think of relating to hospitals.

Then spend 10 minutes writing something that uses as many of those nouns as possible, without referring to illness/ hospitals etc...

11.5 minutes in total. Here's mine

George opened another banana while the children watched. He could have kept a whole corridor of kids entertained with the faces he pulled, magicking thoughts of flowers and balloons just from the way he held his arms. George never spoke, but he never stopped playing. One minute he was reading pretend leaflets or nailing posters to the trees, the next he'd be holding a stethoscope to the earth, listening to its heartbeat.
"Why does George only wear pyjamas?" Tom once asked his mother, when she was towelling him down after bath time, but she only smiled. Adults didn't see George and thought the kids were only joking when they said they needed the thermometer to check George's tea, or when they were playing statues and George was watching for who'd move - adults would always interrupt. George would be sucked up in a tube of sensibleness then, and kids would start to see him only in their glasses of water, or when they took mammy's pills or if they fitted themselves into a bedside locker.
It was getting harder to see him all the time.
He was only apparent from a giggle in the curtains or a drip from the railings on a dry day.


Funny how myself and another guy in the group both had banana's in our story - would you have included banana's in your hospital list?

Doors and books

So Danger does love the Doors, but while he was swinging out of the living room door there recently - hitting himself on the backside with the door, having forgotten to get out of the way, such was his enthusiasm to open and close it - it struck me that he's pretty darned adept at the motion of opening and closing doors, and I was wondering why that might be... well if you are wondering the same, dear friend, wonder no more!!
He's been practicing on his books. Books all have little doors on the front of them - most of em less heavy than the ones we have separating ourselves from the world outside or segmenting our mini kingdoms into different colour coded places for living. There's even a door on the laptop for gawd's sake, that swings up to let us see through and into the whole world (or onto the next humour related stumble page - whichever comes first)
Books and doors have a lot in common. They can both surprise (remember bosco)
Actually anyone who doesn't remember bosco - you have to check this out. Seriously cult youngsters tv... They both can educate... and lead to unexpected places. An open book could be the source of a draught, might let in some flies, or just act as an invitation... A door can become an old familiar friend when you've been through it often enough - or might become a rueful memory, something best avoided.
And the difference?
A book will not generally cause you to hurt your fingers if closed suddenly.
A band called "The Books" would not be quite as genius (or cool)

And for those of you wondering what Danger's library consists of you'll be glad to hear he counts such classics as
"El Catita"
"Baby Touch"
and
"Catch my tale" among his favorites.

Sore throat

I've a sore throat, poor me, it means I mightn't even make my course thing tomorrow night, which is sad, as I also managed to miss it last week... So here is a tiny snippet of creativity that I managed to get down this evening... - though you should really check out Emerging Writer's Wedding poems if you want to see some real gems. I put mine in the comment box. seriously, everyone should do one - they're brilliant.

Danger mouse has graduated, by the way, to mocking his parents - when he goes to chew through a wire with his little Danger teeth and we say "aah Ah" in that all-knowing and authoritative way we have, he actually laughs, and says it back to us... All that's left now is for him to be completely mortified by our presence and we'll be fully fledged parents.

Anyway - here's my little effort, that may not even be a poem at all, since it doesn't rhyme or do anything much of any great importance... maybe its modestly is its greatest strength.

Sleep wants you

Sleep wants you so bad it writes your name in the air
It laughs at all your jokes, widens its eyes at your anecdotes
Makes your eyelashes want to hug, tug tug tugs them together
Answers teen magazine questionnaires to find out if you’re interested
Waits for you at the end of every long and lolling day
Warm arms enfold you in everything your mind wanted to do
And everything you’re scared of
While your body turns a blind eye
Sleep loves you, even when your mouth is slack
When the saliva drizzles softly past your chin
Or skin is twitching with weird imaginings
Sleep creeps through your every part
Relishing the journey

Trying to guess

- do you think a child who is interested in opening and closing doors of all kinds (bathroom doors, dresser doors, locker doors) will be interested in "The Doors"?

By the way - on a somewhat related note - the dog is proving to be a great aid to parenting efforts.... in the life lessons department mostly... things she has taught Danger include...

that shouting will not necessarily always result in being picked up.

that not all toys belong to him.

that sometimes large objects can move - without warning - so check for stability before using them to pull yourself to standing.

that the yellow bowls are full of interesting things, but you'll be in trouble for investigating them...