O sweet little Babushkas
your head scarfs are cute
but your hands are much too quick for my liking.
Exploring and sizing every angle.
If I could pronounce "you can look but don't touch" in your slovic tongue,
my life would be more blissful.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
Bird Friends
They lived in the vent in our bathroom. Chirped the moment the sun came up, reminding us it was morning. Sang to me all day, a happy working song. These were my bird friends.
Today I woke up and they were gone. Needless to say, this hasn't been my favorite day I've lived.
Maybe my husbands empty threats to drive them away weren't pacifist enough for them. Or because the bread crumbs I poked into their home were not organic. Or maybe the songs I was singing them were too pop, not enough folk.
Hipster birds. sheesh. I dont understand them.
Today I woke up and they were gone. Needless to say, this hasn't been my favorite day I've lived.
Maybe my husbands empty threats to drive them away weren't pacifist enough for them. Or because the bread crumbs I poked into their home were not organic. Or maybe the songs I was singing them were too pop, not enough folk.
Hipster birds. sheesh. I dont understand them.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Biketown USA
Our neighborhood is filled to the brim with bikers, all of whom are serviced by a man named Mitch.
Mitch is the owner of the local bikeshop. I dont know how to otherwise describe our experience of him and his shop, therefore I will proceed to give you tidibits of facts, in no particular order.
Mitch is a self proclaimed Acidic Jew: a Jew who has done too much acid.
He is a genius, and knows everything interesting on every topic under the sun. Literally.
He is about 5' 7", his balding hair flies everywhere, and wears his glasses on his forehead. This is, until its time for in inspection. The glasses comes down, he gets really close and says "I don't trust these petals", and continues to complain if the bike was made anywhere but Japan.
This is Mitch.
He once ran for mayor of a nearby town, due to the fact that he investigated on his own a government scandal and reported it. When asked how many votes he received in the election he answered "I dont know, I was at a bike factory in Japan".
He owns a shop that is the neighborhood sensation. Its too filled with bikes, and so he uses the front yard as his workspace. Sometimes he is fixing up to 8 or 10 bikes at a time, running to and fro, requesting help from innocent passerbys.
My husband and I were tickled when we went to get our bikes repaired. After we did business with Mitch, we then sat on his step and observed the bikeshop happenings for an hour and a half. We werent the only ones who came to see Mitch.
"Mitch fix my chain"
"Mitch pump my ball"
"Mitch pump my prosthetic leg"
The following are his responses "how many times do i have to tell you I'm not fixing your chain everyday kid? Only once a week!" he says to this redheaded boy of 4, shirtless, too skinny to keep his pants up. "tell you mama she needs to start keeping an eye on you! Hey watch for cars" he hollars to little Johnny, already halfway down the street with his working chain.
"Why would I stop what I'm doing to pump your ball" he growls at some punk kids. "dont i look busy to you". By then they're gone, with a ball as good as new.
Mitch is a grouch. But they love him, us included. We secretly hope he likes us, and that someday soon we'll be friends.
Mitch is the owner of the local bikeshop. I dont know how to otherwise describe our experience of him and his shop, therefore I will proceed to give you tidibits of facts, in no particular order.
Mitch is a self proclaimed Acidic Jew: a Jew who has done too much acid.
He is a genius, and knows everything interesting on every topic under the sun. Literally.
He is about 5' 7", his balding hair flies everywhere, and wears his glasses on his forehead. This is, until its time for in inspection. The glasses comes down, he gets really close and says "I don't trust these petals", and continues to complain if the bike was made anywhere but Japan.
This is Mitch.
He once ran for mayor of a nearby town, due to the fact that he investigated on his own a government scandal and reported it. When asked how many votes he received in the election he answered "I dont know, I was at a bike factory in Japan".
He owns a shop that is the neighborhood sensation. Its too filled with bikes, and so he uses the front yard as his workspace. Sometimes he is fixing up to 8 or 10 bikes at a time, running to and fro, requesting help from innocent passerbys.
My husband and I were tickled when we went to get our bikes repaired. After we did business with Mitch, we then sat on his step and observed the bikeshop happenings for an hour and a half. We werent the only ones who came to see Mitch.
"Mitch fix my chain"
"Mitch pump my ball"
"Mitch pump my prosthetic leg"
The following are his responses "how many times do i have to tell you I'm not fixing your chain everyday kid? Only once a week!" he says to this redheaded boy of 4, shirtless, too skinny to keep his pants up. "tell you mama she needs to start keeping an eye on you! Hey watch for cars" he hollars to little Johnny, already halfway down the street with his working chain.
"Why would I stop what I'm doing to pump your ball" he growls at some punk kids. "dont i look busy to you". By then they're gone, with a ball as good as new.
Mitch is a grouch. But they love him, us included. We secretly hope he likes us, and that someday soon we'll be friends.
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