Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:
Marriage is a dinner that begins with dessert.
~Toulouse Lautrec

Marriage – a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.
~Beverly Nichols

There are many women who are happy to be married, but only a few who are married happily.
~Curt Goetz

~~

Posted from the Grove:
Married and unmarried women. Married and unmarried men. Actuarial tables state that married men live longer than unmarried men. Common knowledge. But what about happiness? As a test of your understanding how marital bliss plays out over the course of a marriage, write down numbers 1 to 4, and catalog from happiest to least happy the four groups listed above. This is just an exercise. The actual rankings are listed at the bottom of this newsletter. Whether you read and weep, or read and rejoice, will depend largely on your gender.

~

Prewritten for Thurs (09/17) @6pm PT/9 ET is: The mood was grim and only the town drunk was dancing…

~~

@Writers Platform

Prewritten: watermelon flunky

~MissMerry:

Watermelon Flunky

“Beyond here there be dragons”… some days it may not be a good idea to think too hard.

I was doing yard maintenance. Simple stuff, trimming, weeding, dead heading the rose bushes- I did not forsee getting into an existential dilemma over pest control.

I had noticed the ant mound last week, made a note to myself to put out the ant poison before it got too big.

Early this morning I cleaned out the refrigerator of a few things that had been in a bit too long. We have frequent visits by coons and possums who usually hit us up for some kitty kibble or table scraps. It is no trouble to us. So, instead of throwing out-of-date food in the trash when it needs to be disposed of, I put it out at the fence for the critters to feast upon.

I was not thinking about the ants when I left the uneaten half watermelon. When I came out later to pick up sticks and work on the yard and noticed the ant trail. Each tiny worker walking east was loaded with bright pink melon flesh. They were cutting it into small blobs and carrying it to the ant hill. Hundreds of tiny workers hauling chunks larger than themselves across a long, hot yard, then struggling to fit it into the hole in the ant hill. Then, they joined the long trail of unburdened ants making their way west going back for another load.

I had to admire their spirit… In less than two hours they broke down a gallon-jug sized half of a melon, transported, and stored it all… in the underground home I planned to destroy.

I felt bad. After watching them for awhile it felt like it would be wrong to reward all that effort with death.

But then… each little ant was just a flunky to the hive. Did ants receive praise for a job well done? Do they have a sense of joy in their accomplishments? Or, are they simple mindless slaves, each day doing the drudgery of backbreaking labor until the day they die and then are swept unceremoniously out onto the debris ring around the outside of the mound.

How different are their little lives from our own? Perhaps I would be doing them each a favor, putting an end to their slavery.

I hear people talk about how rewarding it is to work hard and look forward to retirement, to helping their children and leaving a legacy to their family.

I however, have no children. I am just a drone in the hive of my employer, trying to do well and working hard, but dreading the next efficiency drive where they add more and more weight to each of our loads. We DO get the occasional “pat on the back” and of course the bi-weekly paycheck. But, is it rewarding? Is it worthy of our effort? Does it make a difference? Am I happy?
Am I worthy? Is an ant worthy?

How DARE I consider ending all of these hard working little lives… just because their choice of mound position is INCONVENIENT to me. They are scheduled to be destroyed because they MAY bite me. Even though I know that they will bite me only if they are forced to defend their mound.

I can plan to stay away from it, but will they grow from one mound to a bunch of mounds, taking over my yard? And, I am not always the most graceful of souls. I KNOW me. At some point I WILL step in it and the little bastards will swarm up my legs and bite the hell out of me. Then, I will angrily regret my Janeian impulse to let them live today, declare all out war and LAY WASTE to the entire ant empire (Mwahahaahaa!)

Is this how Hitler felt about the Jews?

I put the ant poison away in the shed unopened. I can’t deal with this now, It hurts my head.

I hope the ants enjoy their watermelon feast. It may be their last. And, I refuse to even consider the mole trails across my grass… That is a headache for another day.

~

~Greymane:

~Greymane:

Melony Offense

He worked at the plant on route 79
‘Til his gluttonous greed shut down the main line
He’d worked 10 years as eggplant engineer
but the harvest came in a bit early that year
Promoted from veggies to boss of the fruit
He developed a palate refined and acute
He’d taste from each batch as it passed through the gates
Discernibly picky he’d delegate crates
Peaches, papayas and all of the rest
but with red juicy melons he soon was obsessed
Seven for breakfast and twenty for lunch
Who knows about dinner but probly a bunch
When he halted production and shut down the floor
Melonious overflow rolled out the door
‘Not enough melons!’ He’d constant complain,
Spinning, delirious, bloated, in pain
He lusted for melon so out of his mind
that they found him half-dead almost buried in rind
Mountains of melons so tasty and sweet
Puddles of evidence under his feet
Red melon handed they caught the poor junky
Demoted with pleasure to watermelon flunky

~

~Piffin: haiku

Piling the produce
A watermelon flunky
Dreaming of D-cups

~

~BarTalk: aisle 9

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Impromptu: sceptre, specter

Tymes Two

Spirits whispered lies
Everyone scepter knew
Didn’t spectre two

~

He held his dark scepter caressing her hair
Swearing revenge on them all
She closed his still eyes and she whispered a prayer
Alone in the crumbling hall
She watched as the spectre was carried away
on screams of the horror outside
She slipped out the back and she hoped they would say
At least the old bastard had tried

~

~MissMerry: untitled

Sittin’ on a trash pile of deep depression,
breathing in the fog of “just let me be”.
Gotta get my life in a right direction,
Cause I’m gettin’ damn sick of “just wait and see”.

Queen of my fate – wave my remote control scepter,
Watching cartoons and playing guitar
Credit rating poofed to a smokey grey specter –
I say just screw it and head out to the bar.

Looking for a job when your flag’s in tatters-
You walk the red carpet in your undies and bra.
You try to spar only with someone who matters
and hope that this round is not your last hoorah.

One step at a time
One more problem down
I can’t beat the mountain
so I gotta go around.

~

~Piffin:

The Queen of the Dead

The Queen of the Dead
Was an elegant wraith
I adored her, I confess
Her visage was regal,
Brocade and dark faith,
Scepter hair, which was a mess
One mortal, as I,
Had not ghost of a chance
With that banshee in shimmering blue
Who did not accept
My invitation to dance
But I didn’t really spectre to

~

~BarTalk: Of Royal Blood

~~

Happiness by Gender, In and Out of Marriage.
From happiest to least happy:
1. Married men
2. Unmarried women
3. Unmarried men
4. Married women

~ . ~