I just realized that it is that mad man of rhyme mayhem's birthday today. Tomorrow is the day for stripey tall hats and bow ties at my daughter's school. When she seemed tentative about donning her 2 story hat, I reminded her that EVERYONE will basically be a doof tomorrow in those hats. Except me. We only have one. And while it is common knowledge that the pharmaceutical industry is huge on rhyming and diming (I am in Accounts Receivable after all when not selling my jewelry - oh no. Duck. It's a shameless plug - which can be found at http://www.morganna713.etsy.com), I will not be partaking in Seussal Drag. However, anyone wishing to find out more about this Genius of Weird, an article on NPR can be found here - http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=7651308.
As a youngin' (Oh I guess that means 'currently'), I was scolded prettily for never reading anything from our media center in school except for Dr. Seuss books. Maybe it was because my mom already supplied me with the How Babies Are Born (Disturbing Photographs Edition) at home and I needed some Light Reading. One story in particular used to creep me out...and yet, I couldn't stop reading it. "What was I Scared Of?" was an even more off the wall, if not downright horror story for a child, up until the ending. It consisted of one of Seuss's beings (I never do know what to call them) being followed by a pair of pale green pants - with NOBODY INSIDE THEM. I couldn't get past that part. A pair of pants floating around, running in air, rowing a boat - all to stalk the Seussical Being. Eventually, the pants do end up shirking down to the ground with a bad case of the shakes. We have to remember that this was before the days of Xanax - and even so, had it been tested and deemed safe for mobile textiles? There is a happy ending and naturally, a lesson. A lesson that I obviously failed miserably since I'm 38 and still judging the intentions of a pair of stalker trousers.
I will divulge one of our weird daily rituals in honor of our wonderful and strange author. For whatever reason, be it latitude and longitude of our town, a chip on the corner of a close star, or laziness for an hour prior, Humanling and I both need to use the Pot-Tay when we get home in the early evening. What must occur is that we burst through the front door (but I have the key so I have some leverage) as soon as someone says the magic words..."I GOTTA PEE!" Within 2 seconds must come the answering call, "ME TOO!" and then a tearing rampage up the stairs trying to stay at least 2 stairs above the other person. Throwing my arm in front of her and pushing her slightly behind is indispensable. I am usually ahead so I can stop and turn on a hall light, trim my nails, or spackle the wall. Then its timed right so that I get into the bathroom first and when I know Humanling will appear at the door, it gets slammed in her face.
Oh boo hoo. Yeah it sounds mean. Whatever, like no one who has read this mind tortures some life form (pets, spouses, your own mirrored image). We laugh up a storm during this and half the time during one of these aerobic, narrow-stair defying acts, we really don't have to go at all.
There are times I am simply doing something in another room and from yonder hills, the Call of the Challenge invites me to respond like a St. Bernard with a barrel..."I GOTTA PEE!"
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