Ant Stomping

~Ant stomping~

Not an activity to be undertaken lightly.
Only for the strong willed
and stomach sure
amongst you.

Graphic images 

found in these pages

do not represent the feelings

of the the management.

Proceed with caution.

These images may disturb some.

You can run,

 but you cannot hide.

The power of the young

with an aversion to spring visitors

Leaves no room for negotiation.

Alone in a Fish Bowl

In my world

I am swimming still

drifting, dreaming

I can't get my fill.

The whole earth surrounds me

with oceans far and wide.

I smile in constant wonder

at the spaces I can glide.

Just waft around the corner

and whistle round the bend

as I take a step to you my friend

it seems it will never end.

The beauty, it surrounds me

in colours orange, green and gold

my only wish is for you my love

to be here with a hand to hold.

This poem  is inspired by Magpie Tales and I think I might throw in a link to Thursday Poet Rally as well. Happy Thursday.

Someone Will Be With You Shortly

"Someone Will Be With You Shortly", by Lisa Kogan (© 2010, Harper Studio)

Today, you are lucky enough to not only get a second book review from me in a week, but also get a party to go along with it! Wow! Yes, I finished another book this week, and this one is getting its own special launch party via Twitter.

To join the gathering click the link for the Twitter Party.

It is Wednesday, April 28th, 2010 from 9:00pm - 11:00pm (est)

  -Twitter party is open format  to meet the author
  -Guests can ask Lisa about her life, her column with O magazine, or her new book  

The lovely hosts of the party are Julie Morgenstern and Melissa Lierman. Feel free to visit them with any questions or comments you may have. I am a virgin to the whole twitter thing so Don't ask me. I do not know. My friend Melissa is a guru about all things social media related, so ask her. She is awe-inspiring in her multi-tasking, go-getting keenness. She makes me tired just listening to her for two minutes. I blog. Hence why you are here. Feel free to enjoy the party though. I am going to do what I do best here and that is write a little blurp about what I think about the book. Enjoy!

~~~~~

   I received this book from my friend Melissa. She swore up and down it was an easy read and noted she guffawed through much of it, often raising an eyebrow from her hubby lying beside her in bed. I am always up for a good read, so collected the book from her with high hopes. While not familiar with Lisa Kogan's work, I was told she was a columnist for O Magazine. I figured that she probably had some kind of handle on the English language and looked forward to all the laughs that would follow. My last brush with Oprah came from my recent book review and while mostly well written, it certainly did not elicit any laughs from me. I do not know about you, but I do not get enough giggles in my day. So what would Kogan exactly do for me?

   Well, upon opening the book I noted the subheading of "Notes from a perfectly imperfect life". Sounded humble enough, I thought. The Contents noted that there were 35 chapters, but I pushed on undaunted. The tome is slender and maxes out at 200 pages. No biggie! So I began. And I giggled. Kogan gives a brief synopsis of herself and her life with deadpan sarcasm. In the first chapter she describes giving birth to her daughter. She notes,

    "The rest of the story is pretty standard stuff; Johannes and the nurses ordered yang chow lo mein from the noodle shop on Second Ave, my friend Meg dropped by, shifts changed, I threw up, day turned to night, my friend Francesca dropped by, I begged her to grab a chopstick and stab me through the heart, and then a little after 3A.M., out came the pink velvet bunny nose, soft butter pecan ice cream cone, floppy, peony petal, juggle bug baby girl I thought I would never have."

   It makes you kind of tear up, doesn't it? I have been there, done that. Knowing the agony of the preceding hours, I loved her instant love upon arrival of her little girl; Drama with reward. The rest of the book is saturated with  Kogan's sarcastic wit and dramatics, and yes indeed I chortled my way through much of it. The spectre of multiple chapters, was softened by the fact that many of them were no more than five pages. I could breeze through several chapters while watching my daughter macerate a bite of dinner. One bite might last two chapters! That was my dramatics on another day though. I suspect Kogan could turn that into another chapter and have her readers rolling in the aisles. I digress.

   So what kinds of things did I find so amusing in the pages of the book, you ask? Here is a little taste; Kogan  bemoans her inability to throw a party ("flambe anyone? Oops, oh. Your eyebrows!") that seems to slip into several chapters, but more specifically chapters 2 and 30. She sulks over her mood swings in Bed, Bacon and Beyond ("To Whom It May Concern: Lisa Kogan is currently closed for repairs. She has been ridiculously wonderful for the last sixteen days in a row, and now she needs to eat bacon in her underwear. Please do not phone, e-mail, or make eye contact with her under any circumstances."). She waxes nostalgic about her grandmother in the chapter One Night Only as she notes that she should have sat back down and listened to her tales versus running off to a party. And of course I just could not stop grinning and snorting in Was it Good for You? as she discusses sex toys, going gray down under, and those awkward moments in young teen lust and hour long make-out sessions. She alternates between loving and wanting to smother with a pillow her long-time partner and father of her child. Her friends are alternately praised and picked on, but all with her witty banter that just begs you to forgive her sins. Between her lists and rules for living, I snickered through the pages with my children wondering what was so funny. At the end of the day, you know what? I can say that it was a pretty good book. Very light and fluffy, but with so much that anyone can relate to (well maybe more of the female set, but who's counting?). If your brain needs a break from the other neo-classical literature that litters your bed-side table, than I would suggest taking a wander through Lisa Kogan's brain. I appreciated the workout for my laugh lines.

*****

Breaking News:


   I would like to announce that due to my extreme happiness with the book, and an extra copy being sent my way, I am going to have my very first contest here in the blogosphere. That's right! For all of you lovely people out there that come by to visit and post a comment, I will throw your name into a hat for the chance at winning a copy of the book. Indeed! So just go over there to the comment link and leave me your two cents worth and an email address so that I can find you later, and you too can pester your family, pets or dust mites with the sounds of your mirth  as you flip the pages of Kogan's book. Come one, come all...

time is no waste

A book calls.
My mind stews.
The bath heats.
   Good.
Ice cubes clinking.
   Also good.

I am angry at the injustices
   that are pushed upon the world
Me, friends, family and foes
   We are all pushed by the should be, should do,
should have been, could have done...

All we have is today.
This moment in time,
   that we have
that we offer to share with the world.
Those pure moments of us that we share with another,
   is that not the most precious thing to give,
      to be?

Am I wrong? What else can we offer another,
    but ourselves?
There is nothing more.
Everything else is mine
for me
Alone.

I offer me with love.
If I do not want to give me I will not.
I am precious and not worth wasting.
I am not worth wasting
Neither are YOU!
neither are you...

time is no waste

life is gifts given wrapped in the paper of experience

cherish

Baboons, beer drinkers, bee-eaters, bunji jumpers

I reclined with a weary smile plastered to my face. I was headed “home”; that is back to my aunt and uncle’s house in Cape Town.  I had survived my first true taste of the wilds of Africa, the last adventure being our white water rafting experience. I had rafted 17 of the most challenging rapids in the world, only having to portage around one of them. Despite a brief solo trip  into the water while out on the river, I had fallen in love with the experience. All but the 750 foot incline that we had to scale to walk out of the gorge. They say it takes an able-bodied person 20 minutes to walk up out of the gorge. It felt more like hours as my knocking knees threatened to give out on me. As I struggled up the vicious hill,  I watched the rafters run up the hill with all of our gear laden on them. I wanted to puke. I stopped to catch my breath and was chided and cajoled by Karel until I begrudgingly started back up the hill. I would have gladly lain down and given up in contempt of myself, were it not for his pushing and prodding.

“There is cold beer in the truck,” he stated as he walked up the hill away from me.

Motivation noted. I hated every step I took, but found the superhuman strength to carry on. Beer and shame were great motivators that day.

Now I grinned remembering the shakes that racked my body that afternoon and the many days that I had survived before that. I had seen baboons, beer drinkers, bee-eaters, bunji jumpers, crocodiles, Castle castles,  elephants, eagle-eyed guides, lechwe, lecherous men, lions, mongoose, mokoros, puku, pojte pots, rondavels, rapids, sable, samils, and of course vultures and Victoria Falls. The memories were strong in mind and would take a lot of elbow grease to remove from body. My liver begged for mercy and I thought that returning to the familial lair would placate its pleas. I wondered what the future would hold and longed for the bounce of the samil back. Perhaps I would reconnect with my high school chum over the upcoming holidays, I thought to myself. Images of myself exploring wineries, wandering down to Cape Point and scaling Table Mountain were all possibilities to be pondered. I had a month of my six-month adventure tucked proudly under my belt and anticipated all the potential moments to be. The hugs I had offered to my fellow drifters were warm around me, as I sailed into the future dreams of my African tale.