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The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed! And couching them in Poetry is definitely NOT required.
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
10 comments:
I can not get my gerbil clean!
The cedar chips make a messy scene!
If I try to give him a soapy bath,
He gets so slippery he eludes my grasp!
The swivel straw on his water bottle
Doesn't give so much, but he sweats a lot-le
He perspires so on his running wheel --
Wet gerbil fur could make a strong man reel!
His fluid loss should leave him thin,
But he still has such a fluffy skin!
Oh, wait, he's preggers, that explains it!
She's typical female -- won't admit the vaguest!
Don't be too hasty writing this blog off. I'm not abandoning yet, tho I have switched to a simpler format. A bit blurrier (IMHO), no color, no embiggerable cartoon. Takes me only a couple minutes to fill out. And Archie might still get his automated recording to handle even that 6 days a week. Sunday still requires a bit of work, but one day out of seven isn't such a strain.
That’s splendid news for us, Owen!
Please forgive my premature attempt at closure, as I was interpreting your recent note about “two days” more as a finality you didn’t intend. Of course, nobody wants to see an end to your blog! Thank you for continuing it—in whatever shape you feel manageable.
—§—
“Taking a Gambol”
The messy gerbil
loved to tumble & swivel
in his soapy bath.
~ OMK
"Kid Training"
Mom had been training Jessy
not to be so messy.
He hates being soapy,
so washing makes him mopey.
Mom wishes he'd quit his swivel
and just wants him to be civil.
So she promised to reward him with a gerbil
in the back yard, where it can be herbal.
And the best of her omegas
was to offer him a trip to Las Vegas.
This all made Jessy become a good boy
and Mom is now thankful and full of joy.
Thank you for the good news, Owen, and your gerbil poem this morning is wonderful!
And, Ol' Man Keith, you worked all four Jumble words, if not the solution, into your always clever haiku.
Take another look at the punning title, Misty, as perhaps a bit of a “solution-pointer.”
Your clever verse incorporates all the J-words with a literal version of the solution. Your mom is smart in the ways she rewards Jessy, including a trip to where he might gamble!
(I liked your rhyming omegas/Vegas.)
While I didn’t care much for today’s childish solution, I found I could go in a different direction in my response. As in literally, Where might one go?
Just speak it aloud. Then look again at the spelling.
(My apologies for clumsily explaining it.)
~ OMK
Well, I suppose Las Vegas is one of the best places to take a chance at winning, isn't it? Of course, it is! But is it, OMK?
Well, truth to tell, NONE of these "meccas" offers a good "chance at winning," hence the truth of the first word of today's solution.
But they all allow one to gamble AND gambol.
Vegas is the first place I ever visited to gamble. My first day, I put a $5 bill on a roulette number and won $15! I thought, "Hey, this is pretty good!"
I went on to lose $50 over several tries, so gave it up. My second and third days I stayed for the entertainment. The shows are fine.
I have played in Reno and at a private club in London. Same experience everywhere. The first time you win feels awesome, and you are enticed to try again until, of course, you lose a lot more.
The saddest sight, I think, is the line of ladies at the slot machines. They sit there for hours on end, isolated from the world--just them and their robot one-armed-bandits.
They play the slots because they don't have to learn a skill--required at the craps & blackjack tables--and they needn't socialize, such as at any game where you're betting with one another.
They're going to lose all their money, but nobody they know can see them doing it.
~ OMK
Well, I knew it was a chance at gamble, OMK, but just didn't want to give it away too easily.
I too used to love to gamble, and had at least one or two or more trips to Las Vegas or other places where I had a good time. Wish I could remember--but it was long ago. Some day I'm going to scour my garage to see if I can find my diaries from all those years and recover my memories. I kept diaries from my teens until just a few years ago, and still put in an entry once ever few weeks or months or so. But who will ever read all that or relive all that?
My son is coming for a visit in a few weeks, and I'll have to talk to him about all that stuff in my possession, somewhere or other in the house.
We all accumulate so much over our lifetimes.
I think of all the books and papers and production designs
and posters
and show photos
and student papers
and syllabuses
and hundreds of critiques of students' work, from their lab scenes to workshop projects to full productions.
At one time I thought these were too important to lose, but I suppose they'll all get tossed when I pass on. What else?
It seems an apt metaphor for death.
~ OMK
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