Taking Skittles as Vitamins is Really Working Out

Despite normally reserving this space for flash fiction and such, today I have to record the dream I had last night; as I doubt I could ever replicate such oddity while awake.

Apparently Lyle Lovett and I had decided to go camping on a remote island accessible only by plane. As we were packing up he sent out the signal for the pilot to pick us up. I took my eyes off of our tent for about 2 minutes but in that time several animals climbed inside. Despite the animals, Lyle and I put the tent into a box and cleared the remainder of the campsite.

When the pilot arrived he informed us that we had discovered a previously uncharted island. Of course Lyle and I were thrilled. We decided to name it Jessyle Isle. I grew extremely sick during the flight and Lyle took me to the nearest hospital in an undisclosed part of the world that included my childhood backyard, a hotel featuring LOTS of wood paneling, easy access to Mr. G, and ill-trained animal tamers.

I awoke from a deep sleep with Mr. G next to me. We were in a very old hospital room. Thinking everything was back to normal, I puckered up at Mr. G. He put down his book and said, "oh you tease, you know that's not appropriate with Lyle just in the hall." Then Lyle, my apparent lover, came in and was very relieved to see me awake. We decided to take a walk, and visited the backyard of my childhood where our tent had been set up to air out.

Inside the tent something was mewing. I tried to peak in through the nylon mesh, but due to poor lighting I couldn't see what was hiding within. Lyle had wandered off, so I unzipped one door part way and a baboon came rustling out. The baboon made several gestures at me and I realized that there was still another animal inside the tent. I went to find Lyle to try and figure out what to do.

He had called 2 animal tamers that clearly had never worked with animals prior. They arrived and tried to lasso the baboon, then hearing the mews from the tent asked Lyle to put on a show costume from the 1980s. They claimed that the MC Hammer pants, bolo tie, and ill-fitting jacket all in bright pink and blue, would lure the animal from the tent. Lyle was clearly uncomfortable with this plan but explained that he was willing to do anything if it helped me get better.

One of the tamers entered the tent and the other handed me a cardboard box with saran wrap over the top. Expecting to see a species of cat wander out, I grew concerned that the box would not hold the animal. Then the guys started pushing and shouting and into the box came a hairless creature with tiny eyes and giant teeth. Imagine a mole with human skin and the teeth of a boar. Good news! Lyle and I had discovered a new species!

So we went back to a poorly decorated hotel to celebrate. Lyle had unpacked all of my clothes but just put them into a series of bins. We embraced and despite my weird undiscovered island germs Lyle was totally fine with our apparent plan to do it. While we were necking he informed me that he knew how to play the sousaphone. Dreamland Henny Penny found this uncontrollably sexy and wanted him to play the instrument if not now, then during the next bedroom session. Lyle Lovett seemed to think I was mocking him, but soon realized that I was incredibly serious.

As we lay together in bed our friends began knocking at the door. Lyle got up and answered it while I deliberated over what to wear. Further inspection of my clothing options revealed that I had only brought several sweaters I had recently decided not to purchase at the goodwill and stretch pants; oh and a plethora of ribbons and trims usually kept in my craft room. I tried to make the best of it and donned a grey wool sweater before heading out into the salon to greet our guests.

Lyle popped open a bottle of champagne and let it fizz everywhere. I thought it was wasteful, then remembered I was dating Lyle Lovett and we could afford to buy more.

The End!

A Postcard from the Conservatory

Oh how I wish I had scrawled this tidbit across my math book in junior high:

In my dreams we play naked spin the bottle.

Clearly pink hearts and some initials plus mine would be required to round out the statement.

Salutations from the roost! Mr. G's schedule is quasi normal for one week. After two dreary weeks of not seeing one another, it seems his boss, bad horse will be allowing him to work non-insane hours for a 5 days, then straight back to looneyville with a night shift! Otherwise, things are crafty as usual. I put my needling skills to work Friday night while Mr. Frecklepants and Bootsy played with a bit of yarn, eventually becoming ensnared in its knots and mewing for escape. In only 3 hours I managed to piece together and complete a gathered tote bag.
Wish you were here!
XOXO
Henny Penny

This just in from Baltic Avenue....

Today I bring you two fascinating tales of love and redemption.

The first, a sure winner in the 6 word story rounds:

Rapist pirate saves the day again!

Now for the second, titled Chocofinger:

“Mint chip squadron,” the lieutenant boomed over the radio, “report your status!”

“All clear sir,” the elfin guard responded, his eyes never leaving the chocolate lovers catalogue. Roderigo, clad in a pure black three piece suite, slipped past the cookie ogler’s security post and silently scaled the steps to the foreman’s perch.

From this high branch, he was able to oversee the entire manufacturing floor. It was massive; clearly the elves had convinced the tree nymphs to magic the inside of the ancient oak to be larger than the outside. It was flawless, and that’s saying a lot considering tree nymphs are terrible at physics.

Rolling the edges of his well waxed mustache, Roderigo walked the distance of the foreman’s quarters in three strides. Along the smoothly varnished surface he lightly traced his fingers over a knot, and pushed ever-so-slightly. The sounds of heavy wooden gears clicked and rotated as the room transformed itself into a high tech, missile command center. Sitting in a shiny metallic captain’s chair, stroking a glaring mutant squirrel, Ernie, the foreman and chief elf, rotated into the room.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Agent Neuf,” Ernie said, snapping his stubby fingers together. Seven guards, all clad in their Keebler greens entered the room, semi-automatic guns in hand.

“Mint chip squadron, I presume?” Roderigo snidely said, adjusting his waistcoat.

“No, these are an elite squad known only as Azucar,” Ernie replied, his eyes dancing with dangerous glee as he watched the spy fidget with his cufflink.

“Well no bother, I suppose, seven are just easy to cast off as one.” And with that Roderigo tossed a cufflink to the ground causing the room to fill with noxious green smoke. He parried and thrust using his gleaming dagger to cut his way to the edge of the foreman’s perch. Then with a graceful leap he escaped the clutches of the last coughing Azucar guard by an inch, falling into a vat of oily cookie manufacturing byproduct.

As Roderigo ducked beneath the surface, swimming for the drain, he heard Ernie’s choked shouts of “Catch him! Don’t let him return to Lilliput with our secret!”

Henny Penny's To Dos:
Purchase electronic elephant
Build cat trap to keep that meddling Mr. Frecklepants out of the craft room
Kool-aid dye some yarn
Bounce
Teach Cleo French
Report to the taxman

Gutentag from the Gumdrop Mountains!

Welcome to the Hen House! Pull up a fluffy ottoman and sip your grape soda while I spin you a yarn you surely won't believe.

This year the heart shaped box of candies was especially frilly and promised exceptional fanciness. Surprisingly, the sole cherry cordial of the chocolate lot was not just hiding enough sugary goop to induce a diabetic coma at 10 feet, but it was also home to a perfectly preserved "P" scrabble tile. This sugar coated factory mishap was discovered by Miss Helena Pout of 87 Tiger Lily Court. Miss Pout had come to expect the treats from her secret admirer each year at Valentine’s day, but she had never found a tooth-cracking clue before. Convinced that true love was just around the corner she promptly dialed every name in the phone book between “O” and “Q.” Soon enough a date was arranged with a gentleman known as Mr. Rutherford Plumb, who found the inquisitive caller a delight and only half-listening to her tale of candied love, falsely laid claim to the 4 years of aloof gift giving. Their dinner did in fact begin a long and lasting courtship. One watched closely and delightedly gossiped about by neighborhood busy body, the recently widowed Mrs. Henrietta Spout of 67 Tiger Lily Court.

From the desk of Henny Penny...
Everything has been coming up roses over the past few days. I've had my fingers into the embroidery thread and my first few attempts at stitchery have turned out swell. Mostly the output of my efforts are for an online swap at craftster. I'm making "dotees," or mini art dolls. It's fun to mail things about the country and accept little trinkets, specially made, just for you. There are a few thorns, such as the new fructose free diet I've been encouraged to try out (apparently I only enjoy eating fructose filled things - like wheat), the need to collect samples for the GI doc (no need for details, let's just say I've never been happier to use my upper lip as a nose plug), and I'm prepping for a crown of the worst variety...the molar topping type.

On the happily ever after front...
We set aside our first deposit into the baby fund, met up with a Denver infertile couples group (and I'm happy to report we're rocketing head first down the luge to new friendsville), and Mr. G finished his final. Little Cleo has finally had a trim, she looks sleek despite her new interest in shivering. Whereas Bootsy and Mr. Frecklepants have been hiding for days, and only recently came out sniffing the air as I (quite splendifically) prepared sea scallops for the first time!