American Humorist Novelists

I am at the Mayo Clinic this week, for my son's yearly appointments. School is done for the semester, so I have time to kill, without homework to fill it. I picked up a Terry Pratchett novel. Ever laughed out loud in waiting rooms? or explained to a nurse what you found so funny?

I have found that the best humorist Novelists seem to be English, and not American (of course, it is very hard to read a humorist novel that is not in your native language and understand it well enough to find it funny).

So I looked  up a list of American Humorist Novelists- the list seems to start and stop at Mark Twain- yeah there was a few stand up or TV comedians who wrote books and made the list- but I discount them as not being primarily novelists, as they don't make their bread and butter from it.

So why can't Americans write funny novels?
Perhaps it is National Health Care (Ok, does anybody know if Canada has any humor novelists?)
Maybe Americans are too concerned with earning enough money from their books so they can afford health insurance, that they can not be as off-the-wall funny?

If you look at the English Humorists Novelists, they are zany, they know they can have fun with words and ideas, whereas Americans always try too hard to make things make sense.

When was mark twain funny? When he was taking things lightheartedly- when he was making fun of things or just wondering. This question could make a fun Ph.D thesis. THis the
y can have fun with words and ideas, whereas Americans always try too hard to make things make sense

Days for Dancing

I believe there are days built for dancing

I don't believe
    all science is  right
    that God causes pain

I would never
    yell at a tree
   discuss physics with oysters
   lie in a poem

I want to
    blow more dandelions
     hear more giggles
    listen to the universe
dance to its music

Cat Cell

The Cat got a cell phone
I am texted if I don't feed her by 9
    * Buzzz* Meow
    * Buzzz* Meow
    * Buzzz* Meow

Her texts says *Buzzz* Play with me*
cat eyes say if you dare

Dog gone it!

Due Tomorrow

Only a few pieces of paper
left on the floor
a particle dangles from his chin
the rest of my work must have gone in
My dog ate my homework
what do I do?
DO I bring the whole dog
or just scoop up his poo?

as I age

My youthful beauty slowly fades
I get better as I age
power deep within my grows
shooting out my fingers, toes

do I harness it
or let it harness me?

give me a few more wrinkles
and we'll see

No Longer

My belly is no longer flat
my waist no longer nipped
instead, my hate is flat
my envy nipped

I can no longer do the splits
but I've learned flexibility in my plans

my face no longer smooth
my chin no longer taut
but my eyes twinkle out
through lines that come
from decade of laughter and love

my lips no longer lush and plump
but my heart is

Egon

Like a rapper
his hat backward
Mickey Mouse ear sticking out
green striped pj
holds a light saber in a front stance
Vooom Voom Voom
daring me to tickle him

Whinny Pig

I have a little guinea pig
he likes to cry
a whinny pig
he thinks he's hungry
a thinny pig
oh, silly little
Guinea pig

Last Sunset

Driving out of Brainerd
white mist rises over the lake
into the red sunset
pink and white tulle
layers over the trees
I must take a picture
where is that *dang* phone?

The Birth of a Paper

Writing a Seminar paper is a lot like giving birth to a baby.
Going into it, I get an urge to clean, only this time, not the kitchen, it is shelves of the library. I scour them for everything I can find related to my topic. I waddle out of there, my hands low, wrapped around the big belly of books that reach to my chin.

When the labor of writing sets in, there are lots of deep breathes, moans, squeaks. Inbetween expulsions of words, I get up and pace, looking for nourishment to fuel my task, to stretch my sore muscles. My back aches, my hips are sore. Sleep comes in fits. No diversion works for long, back to the pushing, relentless and seemingly never-ending, until in full bloom the paper emerges, full of the red squiggly lines, mucus of misspelled words and grammar mistakes. It needs to be cleaned off. It needs to be wrapped in the proper format.
Then exhausted, I sleep, snuggled up to dreams of concepts that came to life as the paper's ideas were born.

Motherhood is the Nessicity of Invention

Bloody Cucumber
Bloody Cutting board
and Bloody baby finger.

Egon tried to help me cut up cucumbers for pickles today. He must have nicked an artery at the tip of that finger. But I caught him and a rag and slowed it enough to bandage and went back to pickle making (after a brief stink washing blood off of it all).

Soon enough he tore the bandage off when we weren't looking and managed to get blood everywhere.

Bloody floor
Bloody couch
Bloody baby

It looked like a murder scene in here. After I caught him and a rag again I stanched it enough that it wasn't bleeding so I didn't bother with a bandage.

Yeah- pickles, and dinner and  My husband and big boys disappear to scouts. So I play outside with the toddler. How many times does a baby have to be pushed on a swing? How many times can you pull a wagon around the yard? How many times do you walk in circles balancing the bike the toddler rides (and by ride I mean sit on the seat with his legs not touching the peddles)? I think he might be learning to steer. I open the garage so he can pull the wagon in more directions. And sit down to brush my old black dog. That always leaves a pile of fur that makes it easy to imagine his bones had melted away and that's all that's left of the poor pooch.

So now its bedtime and the someone roughly handles the toddler and his finger starts bleeding again. Nowhere near as bad. But he had to be caught and bandaged so that my bed is only made bloody by me. But he puts the bandage in his mouth and chews it off. So we add it back on with a layer or two of duck tape.

He still manages to get it off. So We get a big boy's sock and safety pin it to his shirt. So far 5 minutes and the bandage is still on.

But between the dog fur and the bloody little kid, one would think I had brutally murdered the dog and forgot the clean up after myself. Only the dog is happily staring at us through the glass door, wondering when we will give up and go to bed.

Interview Today!

Its a rainy Friday afternoon in the summer, and today we are interviewing Mom.

IG: Hi Mom, it's me; interview guy. How are you doing?

M: (no words, she gives me a glazed over look while six children zoom around her, looking a bit like electrons orbiting a nucleus.)

IG: That good, eh? Well, today I have some questions for you.

M: (shrugs)

IG: So rumor has it that you've been the mom of young children for 20 years. How did that all begin?

M: (narrows her eye to a slit at me and glances over to Dad, who is asleep in his chair.)

IG: Ok, I guess we will move on to the next question. What do you see as next for you in this field?

M: Chocolate. Chocolate is next or it all ends here.

IG: I think we are fortunate. I took a piece of chocolate cheesecake after lunch today. It is in my car.

M: Go get it. NOW!

IG:  All six of children leave the mom orbit and follow me out to the car, chanting "Cheesecake! Cheesecake!"  As soon as we out of the house Mom locks all the doors. The chanting gets louder. Wow! I have never seen a cheesecake disappear so fast in my life! Hungry children with chocolate faces turn to me demanding more. They slowly circle in closer. The chocolate covered teeth glint in the sunlight that has just broken through the clouds. I fear this may be my last interview folks, the end is coming soon.  Hey, I think I hear a voice of an angel.

M: Dinner time, kids! Come and get it!

IG: (Every last kid scampers off) I am saved! An angel has saved me!

M: Go wash your hands, then wait for prayer. Mr. Interview Guy, would you like to stay for dinner? We have meatloaf, and mashed taters, followed by some chocolate cake.

IG: Mom, how did you do that? How did you transform from (I don't know what to call it), to an angel with dinner ready?

M: Never underestimate the importance of a few minutes without the kids.

Pregnancy secrets, we won't tell you in person

1. We bring an extra change of underwear to our exercise classes.

2. It still thrills us when our toddler falls asleep across our belly or on our chest.

3. Nothing fits comfortably, which is why we strip to almost nothing the minute we walk in the door. What fits where changes every minute of the day. Sometimes it depends on how to baby sit or if our breasts are going through one of their 10 pound moments.

4. You stink, the garbage stinks, the food smells either stinks or makes us drool. Fresh air can stink. I stink. Flowers stink, soap stinks,

5. Pregnancy makes you horny, and hungry, and horny and hungry, and of course tired. So all you want to do is pretend it's your honey-moon and eat, sleep and make love, over and over and over.

6. I love questions about parenting but hate about which kid is easier, boys or girls. In general there are a few similarities between girls that are different then boys, but each kid is so different, that I would have to tell you a detailed history of my child rearing days, and with 8 kids that would take all day, so I will just shrug and shake my head at you, unless, of course you want a day- long treatsie.

When Aliens Came (to eat my brain)

The aliens came to take my brain, last night as I lay sleeping.

I tried to ignore them, but at last I implored them to turn off the noise that was bleeping.

But then they said through a hole in their head, that it wasn’t my brain that they wanted.

They wanted a part, that wasn’t my heart and continued to pester me, undaunted.

So I turned on my light and saw in fright, that they were all gelatin blob-ish.

Green and all bluish, and shaped like a shoe-ish, almost a little bit glob-ish.

They were making plans to invade our lands, or at least all the oceans on Earth.

They wanted my gut, only a single piece they’d cut, to see what to them it was worth.

Then I saw,  that they felt the major flaw, on their part was being all photosynthetic.

They wanted to eat, they thought it a treat, but didn’t have the needed genetics.

So they’d be studying us, didn’t think it a fuss, to take a piece I would offer.

But they already had, up in their lab, a mouth, some teeth, and the epiglotter.

They ask if I’d mind, donating to their kind, a part of my lower GI tract.

So I had a choice, to give a voice to the part  they had come to extract.

What would you choose, were you in my shoes, to give to some strange blue-green aliens?

My stomach?, my liver?, my intestines? Oh dither, can’t they ask another mammalian?

I felt kind of attached, to my gut, almost latched to all the parts that I had inside.

How could I persuade them to utilize their brain stem? another answer to provide.

Can’t they instead, do what our ancestors did and become a microbe symbiont?

Search the oceans for examples, the choices are ample, and end this bizarre experiment.

But they wouldn’t be persuaded, so I felt a little jaded, an answer would have to be found.

The epithelium lining to the serous membranes combining, what choice would be good and sound?

Inside my head, I thought of what my teachers said about all of my digestive tract parts.

The stomach, the liver, the pancreas, I shivered, oh what could I live best without?.

The stomach is useful and serves a frugal, place to store my whole dinner.

It’s stretches so great, and I know my fate, without it I would be much thinner.

it secretes the acid that keeps bacteria placid, and starts the proteins dividing

The signals it sends tells when hunger should end, and for hormones it does ample providing

It churns the food, until it does extrude through the sphincter to the duodenum.

It has microvillus galore, and that is all for the absorption to be quite optimum

The border enzymes marches to break down the starches,

then the blood takes the sugars away.

The liver adds bile, and in a little while the micro chorions are conveyed

through the lacteals , which is ideal, into the blood they are delayed.

The pancreatic juices have so many uses, and are not to be ignored,

it adds bicarbonate, that coordinates, ‘til neutral pH is restored.

It also contains enzymes amaze, trypsinogen, chymotrypsinogen,

carboxypeptidase, lipase, nucleases and amylase.

But should I forget the pancreatic islets, for the importance they do play?

They send the hormones, it does it alone, helping your blood sugar stay level all day.

Insulin links with cells and we think, it helps load them with the glucose.

In the liver it sends a quiver, to get some glycogen produced.

On the other hand when glucagon from the pancreas does swell

the glycogen the liver made no longer there doth dwell.

When the small intestine has had it’s say,

it goes through the ileocecal valve and gets pushed away.

There is it met by microbial pets, and gets even further digested,

ions and vitamins and  water are all from there sequestered.

As it moves up and around it often makes sounds and gasses do depart.

and then  all the brown starts bearing down, and through my anal valve comes a fart.

About every half hour I feel the power, as the haustas does contract.

and if I don’t comply, it will get dry, as more water it does extract.

My rectum and anus is designed in the plainness of layers of squamous epithelium

the layers of skin is a strong and yet thin way to protect me from painful delirium.

My anal sphincter’s my friend and keeps me from offend-ing all of my nice underwear.

its voluntary control, keeps me on a roll until I find a bathroom somewhere.

The aliens were waiting while I sat there debating, all of the if ands and buts.

So I  told them that in the end,  a piece of me they are not going to cut.

for I had decided, they’d be better off guided to have the GI tract in whole

How it’s connected with blood and lymph vessels, would help them reach their goal.

and better yet, they needed a complete set to see how it all fit together.

So I will vow, you can take me now, in the finals week of this semester!

When I Aced my A & P

When I Aced my A & P (with apologies to the author of “The Cremation of Sam McGee)

Strange things are done in the midday sun by students preparing their labs

they read the directions to start the dissections and then tentatively give it a stab.

These fluorescent lights have seen queer sights

But the queerest they ever did see

t’was that day in the lab, fetal pig on the slab,

When I aced my A & P

The formaldehyde will cause tears in your eyes and snot drip from your nose

you will try to breath, but the smell will cleave and stick to your hair and clothes

as you cut the pig it burns and stings and you think that you may faint

but there are structures to learn, it’s nearly time to adjourn, so you wont give no complaint

Cardiovascular system, veins and arteries I missed them as I cut my pig right through.

Pull the pericardium apart, so you can see the heart, the vena cava has a bluish hue.

Things I was supposed to get a good look at disappeared beneath my blade;  

“You mean I needed to know that?” I vowed to be more careful with the cuts I made.

The heart was out, and the lungs were flung, the brachial arteries exposed

The renal, gonadal, iliac and femoral, and the kidney sat juxtaposed.

Submandibular we found the salivary gland, and the epiglottis and the esophagus

Followed stomach rugae, the duodenum assayed, and we searched for the urogenital orifice.

From the external nares to the microvillii hairs, I felt I knew my pig well enough

Don’t have to worry about spelling, which is quite compelling,  Can the quiz be really that tough?

25 names of structures, Kay Rezanka would instruct us and then point to it we would.

So we hope and pray to make no guesses today, and see if our studying would make good.

Thyroid gland was found, a brownish mound, at the brachiocephalic junction.

Found the liver lobes, and then I took my probe and pointed to the bladder of urinary function.

10 more to go, I was on a roll, getting every one correct

I was doing so well, my hope began to swell until the one structure I did not suspect.

My head hung in shame, for I had forgotten the name of the structure that was before me.

So I sat there and stared, sifting through my memories in err, but the answer was not to be.

I thought it out logically, compared it homologically,  naming everything else I saw

I winced and I cried, brought a tear to my eye, this item was my one flaw.

Then I looked at my pig, tied and rigged , with the skin peeled from its face

Until I saw it’s eyes, in their baby size, staring back at me from space.

As the eyes stared at me they seemed say “I understand why you are doing this.

but I just wanted to say, since I have your attention today, here’s the ductus arteriosus that you missed.”

My brain was wracked, for I had cracked, but now I could scrape by

A glimmer I saw, and I was in awe, as a light beam, hit my eye,

Above the heart, just beyond the start, was the pulmonary trunk’s little connection

to the aortic arch, my mouth became parched, as I quickly made my selection.

Strange things are done in the midday sun by students preparing their labs

they read the directions to start the dissections and then tentatively give it a stab.

These fluorescent lights have seen queer sights

But the queerest they ever did see

t’was that day in the lab, fetal pig on the slab,

When I aced my A & P

Toddling Through Demolition Zones

"I've been to Jr High, and you can never pay enough to go back."

I have heard that quote or ones like it several times in my life. Today was a day like it.
"I have been to hell, parenting young, over active and extra destructive children, and never wish to go back."

But today, just like when one has a minor heart attack, walking back through the halls of the Jr High they went to, I tasted it again.

My first child has autism, and was extra tall for his age. The second child was very happy to follow his lead for the first 4 years of his life. I lived in a demolition zone for the first 12 years of their lives. Every day they would find new and more creative ways to wreak havoc and permanent harm upon our domicile and all things in and around where ever they were.

As parents of the destructive whirlwinds, we were always trying to out maneuver their abilities, putting locks on doors (the one blocking the kitchen off was a key to sanity), building shelves 10 feet off the floor and giving up the concepts of ever having an intact door, dry wall with no holes, an un-ripped book, or un -shattered glass wear. This got so bad, that when we finally had a house built for us, we had drains put in every floor and wood boards put behind all the dry walls.

It wasn't until about 2 years ago, when the addition was built, that we actually decided the extra expense of the boards behind the drywall would not be necessary. It is really nice when your F5 tornadoes of children become teenage ready leaders, and are starting collage classes before they are out of high-school.

So, I still have youngsters, preschoolers, toddlers, babies. They have all been calm and happy compared to the first 2/3. ... However, my sister and mother somehow maneuvered so we would have her 3 young children today.

Hello Hell, I have to say, I haven't missed you.

We got a kiddie pool and sprinkler to help keep them busy. So they were running in and out of the house with buckets of hot water to help warm the pool. Not bad idea if you enjoy having a trail of wet sand through your house, from the side door, through the entry, the living room and the laundry room.

Then they got tired of it and wanted to play upstairs, so I some how found clothes for them all to wear (it turns out all their clothes, except their swimsuits were in grandpa's car).  And they went upstairs to play. A little while later one of the kids comes down and says he needs to go outside to see the results of the water experiment they were doing upstairs.

Which meant I had to go see what they were doing upstairs. They had ripped a hole in the bedroom screen and tossed things through it to the roof below them, and then commenced pouring water through the window, which in our house, allows the water to possibly be caught in the insulation under the window.

So I sent them all outside again and locked the doors. Of course they couldn't stay out of the kiddie pool. so soon they are playing mostly naked outside, having taking off the sets of, now wet, clothes I put on them. Then they decided to come inside and empty everything in search of the swimsuits they had on only and hour ago.

After they left the former contents of our sandbox in my bath tub, and the floor full of sopping towels, Grandma called. She was done with her meeting.

Even though I did laundry all day. I think the pile ended up bigger than it started.

Amy, I love you, and I love your children, But I have decided I prefer kid over kids, and I am really starting to like teenagers. Whenever there is enough of them to gang up on you..... you should at least be allowed to use a tazor, or tear gas (only I couldn't handle any more crying!). When I left the bathroom to grab them a towel I literally overheard Kira and Shannon plotting against me.

WOW, now I remember why whenever I tried to clean the house that the house would end up dirtier then when I started. I think I will keep my teens.

Neuton's 3rd Law in action.

Part of the problem in living life is that every action we take has an equal and opposite reaction. Some are obvious other are hidden for weeks, months or years. We often base our actions on the obvious ones, and teach our kids to do the same. "You do your chore, you get computer time." But sometimes it is not that easy.

For example; when we moved into this house several years ago my daughter, who was a very light sleeper, had the bedroom next to the bathroom. I soon learned that if I aspired to a good night's rest then I better not do anything to disturb her while she slept. The meant that I couldn't flush the toilet while she was sleeping without the risk of waking her. I soon realized that it made the most sense to let it mellow if its yellow, but if its brown, flush it down.

Well, my other children all thought that if Mommy didn't have to flush the toilet at night, then they needn't flush the toilet, ever. So almost every time I walk into any bathroom in the house, it needs a good flushing. When its 85 degrees, then sometimes I even notice they need a good flushing from several rooms away.

We have discussed this in family meetings. The dogs have patiently waited for the toilets to get flushed, just so the could drink from it.

Is it seriously that hard to flush a toilet? Or will I always regret the year of trying not to share my bed with my toddler?

Conversation hearts for married couples

Sweet candy saying for the love of your life.... of course because we love each other so much our hearts would have to be big enough to communicate properly.

Let's put the kids 2 bed early tonight

yeah, I'm 2 tired 2

maybe in the morning

4 U I'd make something besides chicken nuggets

I'm doing dishes 2 turn U on

Do you have a mint?

A back rub would B nice

quick, lock the doors

hold that thought

Blame my husband.

If my face is bruised and battered
Blame my husband.

For last night was a camp out in our yard
 for cub scouts
And Roo had liked the tent.

Mike said "Take him with you."


The troubles with a tent, is not only can he crawl and fall on you
but he can get a running start to do so.

So if my face is bruised and battered
and my glasses sit all kitty-wompus
and I want to nap instead of work.
Blame my husband.

Hot and sticky

Last night I was so hot and sticky I felt like Roo had eaten a lollipop and then rubbed his hands all over me.

And today was so hot- I had to bake a birthday cake in it- you might as well liquify me and spray me directly on the furniture.