Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

What a to-do last night!

I believe there was some kind of madness in the air.

Tiny humans running door to door,

shrieking and calling for treats.

The scene at this establishment last night.
Why ever did young humans interpret this
as an invitation? Sssssssilly humansss!

Or was it tricks?

I don't remember.

Anyway, who cares?

I was disturbed from my siesta.

Today, I must recover.

I shall lie down here and rest.

I will think of Eliot's wise words,

and listen to beautiful music.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!



“With Cats, some say, one rule is true:
Don’t speak till you are spoken to.
Myself, I do not hold with that —
I say, you should ad-dress a Cat.
But always keep in mind that he
Resents familiarity.
I bow, and taking off my hat,
Ad-dress him in this form: O Cat!
But if he is the Cat next door,
Whom I have often met before
(He comes to see me in my flat)
I greet him with an oopsa Cat!
I think I've heard them call him James —
But we've not got so far as names.”
― T.S. Eliot, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

Isn't That Just Ducky!

Hello there!

I have a new sweater!

It's a pumpkin sweater!

I like wearing my pumpkin sweater.

I'm wearing it for Hallowe'en!

I think it might be lucky

to wear my pumpkin sweater

as we walk on the trails.

Happy Hallowe'en!

Isn't that just Ducky!




Superstitious

If you are superstitious you'll never step on cracks.
When you see a ladder you will never walk beneath it.
And if you ever spill some salt you'll thrown some 'cross your back,
And carry' round a rabbit's foot just in case you need it.
You'll pick up any pin that you find lying on the ground,
And never, never, ever throw your hat upon the bed,
Or open an umbrella when you are in the house.
You'll bite your tongue each time you say
A thing you shouldn't have said.
You'll hold your breath and cross your fingers
Walkin' by a graveyard,
And number thirteen's never gonna do you any good.
Black cats will all look vicious, if you're superstitious,
But I'm not superstitious (knock on wood).

- Shel Silverstein

Happy Hallowe'en!

It's that time of year again!  The holiday that children love more than almost any other - Hallowe'en!
They get to wear a costume, go outside after dark with droves of other children, surprise and stump their neighbors and collect bucketsful of candy. What is not to love?

For your Thorsday Tonic today, in honor of the special day, here is a great little animated video which captures some of the fun of Hallowe'en while delivering one of my favorite pieces of music in one delightful package!

via hshawn00,  Camille Saint-Saëns' Danse Macabre.  Enjoy!

Tuesday Tonic - The Time You Have (in Jellybeans)

This Tuesday Tonic brought to you by jellybeans! (well, maybe by zefrank1, too!)

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

Autumn is settling in and there is a nip in the air.

Really, I am being too kind.

Most mornings it is frigid out there.

I need a little comfort, a little escape.

I know! I will listen to a favorite poem.

You may watch and listen, too.

You're welcome.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

   In a beautiful pea-green boat:

They took some honey, and plenty of money

   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

   And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,

   What a beautiful Pussy you are,

            You are,

            You are!

   What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,

   How charmingly sweet you sing!

Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried,

   But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

To the land where the bong-tree grows;

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,

   With a ring at the end of his nose,

            His nose,

            His nose,

   With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

   Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day

   By the turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince and slices of quince,

   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

   They danced by the light of the moon,

            The moon,

            The moon,

   They danced by the light of the moon.

- by Edward Lear

via Carol Rainbow