Why do you take my salami sandwich if you’re only going to hide it in the gutter?

The weather is no longer trustworthy like it used to be back in the old days.
Now it’s different. Now it’s winter one day, summer the next day.
Odin is a-walkin’ down the sidewalk trying to figure out if both hearing aids are on.
He’s trying out hearing aids. The left one keeps cutting out, and he’s afraid he’ll walk in circles if they don’t fix it.
Actually, they’re making him new ones but it takes a while. He was at the shop yesterday and the guy squirted putty into his ears to make templates.
The putty was nice and cold, and made everything quiet.
Odin enjoyed sitting there in the silence while blue putty hardened in his ears.
Then the man removed the putty and the world re-became its old normal self.
Later, at the wine tavern, Odin and his wife and Loki were talking about sports and when swimming came up Odin described swimming a length of a pool underwater and, upon reaching the end and not being out of breath, turning around and swimming all the way back.
He realized that is why the putty felt so good in his ears, it was the same sensation.
He had even held his breath.

There on the corner the grey crow brushes him with his wing and lands atop a black car and regards.
Here you go, pal, says Odin and gives the crow half of half of his salami sandwich. The crow dissects it and hides a piece of bread with salami in the gutter, carefully covering it with leaves.

What say the slain?

No one, when they die, regrets not building more pyramids.
They regret not engaging in enough monkey business.
Ergo: monkey business is the highest human activity. And shenanigans, and hanky-panky. High-jinks, lunacy, antics, pranks and hoaxes.

What say the hanged?
One so often finds oneself in situations externally dictated that it is really nice now and then to be able to say, this is weird, i don’t know what it is, but it’s all mine. Sustain whatever crazy little shard of creative oddness pierces your heart.

How to not punk yr kids

I didn’t have the heart to get even with my daughters for fooling me. Part of the problem was that I am too soft-hearted to freak them out when it came down to it, and part of the problem was that I am too wise to start an arms race with them, because I can’t see that ending well for me.

It was not for lack of ideas. After consulting with a friend, I had two plans that made me laugh until I cried, just thinking about them. An administrative hell plan for Beta (notice of eviction containing a grammar error (she is a stickler for proper grammar, among other things) and a contact # that puts her on perpetual hold, while Pachelbel’s Canon (of which she is sick) plays eternally); a medical hell plan for Gamma, requiring her to (among other things) collect urine samples and stool samples daily for a week.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg, of course. There were lots of fun, custom-designed details, like the stool-sample-kits would be especially constructed to be impossible to open.

For example.

But I decided not to go through with it.

It’s not that I choked. See the above.

After it became clear to me that I would not do it, I shared my plot with Gamma.

She laughed and laughed. A while later she told me she was sorry I had not gone through with my plans, because she had a really good idea now to get even.

Yes, sometimes the wisest move is no move at all.