Igor Had Me in Stitches and Other not-so-Monstrous Bits

I’m never late to a party where the guests of honor are monsters. But my jaw and I found ourselves forced to spend unscheduled quality time with the fang doctor, and now I’m flying to May Monster Madness with Mistress Tardiness wailing horrors down my neck.

Right now, my jaw hates the whole world. And I don’t think there is a word that effectively describes what she feel towards scalpels, stitches, and the sound some people make when they are convinced that they can get milkshake out of an empty cup, if they just suck harder on their straw. I’m not sure why *cough*, but I think my jaw will stay irritated for a while. When I asked her if she would write this post for me, she said, “Certainly. I’ll use the fang physician’s blood as ink and make parchment out of his skin and—”

Um… I decided to write the post myself, since I didn’t think the visit was that horrible. I even laughed while I was being tortured. You see, my oral surgeon’s first name is Igor. So, of course, the moment a hand, equipped with needle and thread, approached my mouth, I lost it… and roared with laughter. He just kept on stitching. I was impressed by the steadiness of his hands. After he was done suturing, I tried explaining why I had laughed like a lunatic. But… the laughter came back, and I only said, “Igor! Stitches!” He finally got it, and yep, roared.

My jaw is still holding on to her rage, so my contribution to this year’s MMM is a short, simple sampler of not-so-monstrous bits with monsters in them:

The 1st offering is a Gary Larson cartoon that illustrates something I’ve always wondered about the more violent halves of monsters who are not monstrous all the time. How do they feel about their seemingly less threatening halves?

 

The 2nd was crafted in the middle of the night—the monstering hour—while I tried to convince my jaw that pain is the most terrible of gods, that he can not be defeated with more pain, so wishing for our head to explode wouldn’t help.

 

The 3rd and final offering was inspired by a tweet, whose vileness should not be repeated. The disgusting statement left me thinking that no beast will ever be as terrible or despicable as the human monster.  

 

Hm, I went from bright to ominous without meaning to. I guess I could blame it on my jaw, but I won’t. We must never disregard our human monsters… not today, when their corruption spreads to the highest hills.

Don’t forget to visit Annie Walls, the host of May Monster Madness 2018, to see what else is brewing…

 

Wee Books and Garden Giggles

Nature’s mood swings are warming up. We’ve been dancing between low 80s and rain. We like it. And yes, by “we” I mean me. And, perhaps, my amaryllis’ seedpod, who seems to delight in the pleasure that is getting her hair washed.

she trusted
my hand to hold her
wilted hair

 

My youngest oak seems to be enjoying the rain, too. Really. It went from zero leaves to seven practically overnight. The frog that shares the pot with the oak has been pondering about the nature of quick growth (and of blushing leaves).

the frog smirks,
while the witch watches
oak leaves blush

 

I, on the other hand, know exactly why the oak leaves are blushing *cough*:

Flower-lovers do it in the garden.

 

Since I’m certain that dearest Marcus Tullius Cicero was correct, in saying that “If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need”, I thought I should show you the wee treasure I got in one of my secondhand books/thrift shop hunts. It’s an English-Spanish Spanish English dictionary set from 1967. When first published, the miniature tomes (approximately 2” x 3”) cost $1.50. I found myself roaring like the wild old-book-loving maniac that I am, when I noticed the 2018 price was $1.49. Yep, the price went down 1¢ in 51 years.

 

What sort of book-loving-plant-adoring mad witchy writer woman would I be, if I published a post about gardens and English-Spanish Spanish-English books without sharing the page that shows the word “garden” in Spanish? Here it is:

Yes, my Wicked Luvs… I, too, blinked thrice when I read the 2nd page. I’ve no idea why the word judía means both green bean and Jewish female in Spanish.

Edited 5/23/18 at 4:05 pm: So, my Wicked Luvs, I went to my trusty Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase & Fable, and found this: “Arbor Judæ, said to be so called because Judas Iscariot hanged himself thereon. This is one of those word-resemblances so delusive to etymologists. Judæ is the Spanish judía (a French bean), and Arbor Judæis a corruption of Arbol Judia (the bean-tree), so called from its bean-like pods.” Isn’t language the most alluring of wondrous beasts?