Zoo Volunteer

There is a volunteer at the local zoo who takes her Elephant Bath Q&A just a little too seriously. Sure, we all appreciate the fun fact now and again; who doesn’t want to know how much an elephant eats in a day? But sometimes you just want to watch without being berated with pachyderm trivia; even worse, when you see the bathing more than once, you are subject to all the same banalities from Lucy the elephant lover all over again. 

One can get past the pedantic details like “the elephant’s feces can weigh up to” blah blah blah, or “the elephant uses its trunk to sexually pleasure his/her mate” yadi yada, or “the trainers use the bath to bond with the elephants in much the same way we humans might use African drum music to bond”, and so on. One can get past this if one politely tunes her out with, with gun range strength headphones. 

This is not the worst part however; the worst part is her voice and accent. It is a cross between Adam Sandler’s Toll Booth Willie and Gilbert Godfried. Imagine trying to enjoy your zoo trip and the elephant bath with fun facts coming from the Aflac Duck in Boston-ese! I wanted desperately to enjoy the gig but I kept finding myself wanting to channel Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting and run up to her and say “what winds yah watch!?” 

Note to Zoo Management: audition your speakers. If she sounds like a villainous cartoon character from Southie, you might want to put her on shoveling elephant shit duty.

The Nose Knows Mores

mo·res

ˈmôrˌāz/

noun

plural noun: mores

1. 
   

the essential or characteristic customs and conventions of a community.

"an offense against social mores"

synonyms:

customs, conventions, ways, way of life, traditions, practices, habits;

I am pretty confident that the mores in your community forbid you digging your first finger deep into your nostril to dislodge a healthy sized booger clogging up your airway…directly in front of a person…in a work meeting.

But in fact, there are, much like with your taxes, loopholes for this particular mores. You see, one need only cover said first finger with a small, sheen like fabric to commence the dislodging, directly in front of you…in a work meeting. Yes, the beloved handkerchief allows Jane Doe to work that finger up in there in excavator like fashion and turn around like a submarine periscope and to then complete the action with a very defined usage of the fingernail to scrape the bedrocked booger from its hair filled cavern; all with polite dignity because of the flimsy, filled, handkerchief. 

Now, to paraphrase David Mamet, “people love loopholes, that’s why they call them loopholes.” True. But there needs to be a delineation of acceptable holes and I for one, am not falling for the handkerchief loophole. Just because you are nearing retirement and you carry a monogram embroidered snot rag in your purse doesn’t mean you can probe your proboscis during our meeting. 

So now for your reading pleasure, I will inform you of the, according-to-Hoyle-loophole, that allows you to exhume your nose with reckless abandon. The loophole is your own beloved car. Yes, be it a Subaru outback or a Lincoln town car, in the comfy confines of your car you are free to circumvent the mores of your community and impugn the schnozzle with workman like energy and inventor like inquisitiveness. Yes, beyond your driver’s side window on 95 south you can did and dig and dig, pull out to check, and then dig some more. You can take it out and view it and turn your head like a dog that heard a weird noise, all in rush hour traffic. Didn’t get it? Don’t worry, just keep trying. Sure, you are in the parking lot at the local Target and that mother with 3 children is shielding her children’s eyes but you my friend are in your car. Are you uncomfortable wiping the remnants in your car, be it the floor mat or the console? Just roll down the window and wipe it on the top…you wash the outside with a power washer anyway!

Thursday Haiku's

Thursday Haiku's

Five are in the first

Seven are permitted next

Then five for the last

See them walking by

Tis desire aroused in men

Stop walking by please

A rare sun warms, melts

Winter’s snow and frozen bones

Temporary, cold cometh

Inside her, life, now

Grows, breathes, hears, sleeps, kicks, feels, needs

Her life inside, soon

What will you lack friend

Run to, not from, and you shall

jettison that will

the terrible twos

test, push, say no, take YOUR place

defining your space

just one more haiku

today, better things to do?

Just one more for you

Tenderness

Tenderness

maybe I could change

or leave a little room

maybe I could cozy up to you

and make sure your flowers bloom

maybe I could keep my mouth shut

let the chips fall where they may

but then I’d feel cheated

and I’m just not wired that way

maybe I could ask you

make a softly sold request

for just a little, I know you can do it…

tenderness

you didn’t think I’d need it too

but alas I think I’m telling you

that I do

in good times and in bad

in sickness and in health

in the poverty I  know all too well

and your privilege and wealth

so I’ll try again

and again

for the soft spot

you have for the rest

for my own little slice of

tenderness