This Week in Engrish

Alright, so not all of these are fluent Engrish, but they're related conceptually.

Guess which category Jonah falls under . . .






A puzzler: look at the two pictures carefully. 10 house points to the person who figures it out.






And finally, this fella believes in full disclosure. Just in case you wondered where your money would go should you hire the truck (double-click to magnify) . . .




Shout-ats: us, for never keeping the promises to a) write a poem to the most "exotically" placed reader, b) post more in our continuing, one time series "This Week in Islam," and c) show vid of Riley make his electric guitar gently weep.

A: Will do, Mildew, when the winners are situated in New Brunswick, having left Vancouver Island behind. NB has so much more potential for humour than VI, which by now is a caricature of itself, which ruins all the fun.

B: We'll get back to this once we're back. Maybe we'll do a "This Week in Roman Catholicism" or "Mormonism in the Shadow of the Pointy Hat."

C: First, he broke a string. Then, while replacing the string, he broke a string. So we had to go in to Dubai to get a replacement, which has been placed, and is not broken. But now he's out of practice, and will be more so until the end of August. So stay tuned. We'll get there.

Alla prossima.

Mother Matters

To Mater

It doesn't much matter
If I say "Dear Mother,"
Or "Mater,"
Or "Madre,"
Or "Mere"

So long as I don't confuse
"Mater" with "Pater"
Or start call-
ing Mother
"Mon pere."

"That's easy," you mutter,
"To tell Mom from Fader
Or Pater
Or Padre
Or Pere."

But here's why it's murder
To not confuse mother
For Father
Or Vater
For mere,

For father is much more
In form a tomat-er,
And mother,
In form,
More a pear.



Though you mutter, I'll wager
That you've, on ocass-ier,
Confounded
Your geni-
tor pair.

Ben note-r: if mother's
Mistaken for father,
Then Mater
Might think
You don't care!

Ah, though she's eke daughter
And sister and lover
To others,
To me she's
most dear

As my own, loving mother:
I'll never consider
Another
my mater,
Not e'er.

Happy Mater's Day, Mudder!

Friday Funny

Wrote this a few days ago:

So Jonah comes in this morning straight from bed. I’m in my office, packing up the briefcase for the day, and he’s in his Huck Finn jams: pants too short by a long inch and t-shirt worn and oversized. He’s upset and half-asleep, and he bursts in and stands at the doorway and blurts out, with a perfect admixture of husk, chagrin, and accusation, “Why’d-you-close-my-door-Dad?” Well, Wendy had closed it not ten minutes before hoping he’d sleep in a little (no school today for him), but I played along. I said, equally chagrined and faux-offended, “I-didn’t-close-your-door. Somebody-else-closed-your-door!”

He says, “Maybe-it-was-the-monsters-that-came-in-the-night. That’s-twice-I’ve-slept-in-the-dark!”

Realize there’s no fear in his voice or manner, just massive perturbation.

I assure him he had not been asleep with the door shut for long, and that it wasn’t monsters it was his mater, and even if it were monsters, they’d take one look at my pythons and run screaming from the house. Then I flex Shanana style, and he laughs. Not sure what that means, but I’ve decided not to take it personally.

Dreamt last night about Tom Cruise, artichoke hearts, and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Maybe there are monsters. Who’s up for an exorcisim?


Today:

As a follow-up: last night's dream was that Wendy and I had begun socializing with Brangelina while in Italy. Very nice folks. Cute kids.

Was our Sabbath again, and I gotta admit, it's not easy given the inverted weekend. We don't have a free evening where we can party late and sleep in with impunity, so that sucks. But we do our best. Anyhoo. Today was leadership training in Bahrain, so our BP, his partner, and the RSP were all gone, which left, of active participants, us and Adrian. So we slept in (with approval) and had a GC catchup day. Adrian joined us (see above). Here's Christopher paying very close attention, striking a meditative pose:



What was funny was hearing the difference between our talks and the incantatory stuff broadcast outside. On Fridays we can hear the weekly sermons being delivered over the loudspeakers, but the style is either monotonic or angry, the latter making us nervous and the former quite frankly grating. Anyway, the difference was interesting: I'd rather do 10 hours of expressive, warm, and doctrinally stimulating stuff than the twenty minute alternative. No plans for conversion at present.

Three desert pics from the outskirts taken during our late afternoon drive today, playing Matisyahu and having a sing-along.







And, finally, though not clear: check out the chariot-wrecker hubs on this baby (double-click to magnify). The mud flaps were like a muslim wedding announcement: engraved, brightly coloured, and ornate. The pic doesn't do justice.



Shout-ats: was no one appalled when I suggested we'd be going to Sudan for the summer? We're actually trying for Italy for 6 weeks: a little rental just outside Rome as home base. Speaking of which, I need to pin down my contact. We'll let you know if we'll have room for boarders.

April 13, 2008

There once was a fellow named Frank


There once was a fellow named Frank

Who grew up in a city quite dank

Fell in love with a girl

By the name of Ann Shirl

Had kids, and turned into a crank



I know that old lady named Shirley

Her grill is all artifi-pearly

She's put up with her Franks

And his fetish for spanks

And loves him good, even when surly



They've been married for forty-five years

Full of laughter and music and tears

Leven kids have they had

And you'd think they'd be dead

But they're just barely getting in gear



So to Spanks and his pearl of a girl

We say never in all the wide world

Have there been better folks

And that ain't no joke:

It's been fun, it's been wind, it's been whirl



Happy Anniversary, Fogies!

April Fool

So on the morning of April 1st, all the boys discovered what looked like giant flies or rat droppings in the mouths of their tubes of toothpaste. And thus, disgustingly, began the month of April.

Turns out they were raisins, not some horrifying manufacturer's defect. To quote Christopher, "Ach. I brushed my teeth with raisin juice."

Had Jon not been running late, he would have noticed that the cereal bags had been switched in all the boxes, so that eaters expecting chocolate-flavoured Wheetos were instead favoured with something resembling twigs and bark fragments. Nummy.

As it was, it wasn't until the next morning that he discovered that the milk had gone off . . . pink. Christopher's little addition, apparently. Oy veh!

What happened at your places last week? Anything funny?


Shout-outs:

all: Riley thanks you. He really is coming along with the ghee-tar.

kr: will call you tonight. We're interested, price being right.

barnwellians: good times. Watch this space: maybe we'll get operatic sometime just for you.

ec: it would never work between us.

Weekly Cute

Before we get to Riley's concert:

praying this evening over our weekly assortment of leftovers, Jonah said he was grateful for when we get blastized. Apparently I'll be blastizing him when he turns eight. Rhymes with chastizing, but I'm pretty sure that's not what he means.

Shout-outs:

Fadwa, no need to self-edit. You're right: it's a pretty sad place sometimes, this world we're in.

EC: panzy. You're welcome to come and enjoy the pool anytime, though I'd recommend Spring Break '09. Too hot already, and just going to get hotter: 38 degrees, headed to 54 by August. Ay caramba.