I have been photographing this chicken and her lover all week, trying to put together an animated film.
It is just not working.
I have a great song picked out, a stellar cast, all the parts are here; there is head of rat and and sweat of virgins in the cauldron, but no magic potion of hilarious stop motion has bubbled out beneath the three witchy sister's churning of the vile broth.
Nah, I never get that emotional about the kids graduating.
Every year, someone puts together a compilation video of all the graduates implementing their curriculum and personalizing their learning.
The scenes of academic progress are set to music such as "Fanfare for the Common Man" and the Olympics theme.
They show the video in a hot, smelly room filled with a couple hundred kids, families, well-wishers, well-meaners.
There is lots of crying.
But not from me.
I am a rock
I am an island
....and a rock feels no pain......
....and an island ne-ver cries........
My favorite part of the video is how all two hundred people in the room say aloud the names of the faces on the screen.
It starts small, just a few people whispering "there's Marty!", almost in awe.
Marty comes on screen, dusting a shelf in an obviously staged moment of compliance.
In the background of the scene, Tina floats by, talking on her toy cellphone.
"Tina!" more people call out from the audience. "There go Tina, talkin on her phone."
More and more of the graduation assembly gets into the game.
"Awww it's Bill! Bill!"
"Der's Stacey! Der she go!"
It's like watching a movie with two hundred people and having them all describe aloud what is taking place on screen in weird, reverent tones, with an occasional outburst of genuine surprise.
Jeffrey is graduating.
He spent most of the ceremony looking like a stiff deer, but when it came time to walk up and get his diploma, you could have sworn he was Johnny Carson.
All winks and smug, knowing smiles.
Afterwards, I went up to him and said, "Jeffrey, you were like a king up there."
Jeffrey introduces me to his father, who looks like a stretched out version of the Little Professor calculator guy.
The man reaches out one long arm to shake my hand, but Jeffrey steps in between us to catch his dad up in an impromptu embrace.
"I wuv you Dad" he says.
It's all for the best, because we are standing in the men's room, and I dislike shaking hands in there.
The chance of encountering penis cooties is too high.
Lamocha is graduating.
Who is left now,
to remind me of my age,
my creep towards obesity?
Who will point out how far I have to go until I am a man?
I wore shorts to work last week, for the first time in ten years, and Lamocha was the only person to give me a high-five over it.
"Allll right, you wearin' showts."
Putting on shorts now
After years have had their way
Old man legs surprise
Someone explain to me how thighs so supple, so overripe with fat and sleeping muscle, can lead to calves with the circumference of baby fingers?
I look like one of those flip pictures where you try to match up the top, middle, and bottom to make a whole person.
Except I am the one that kids make when they want to impress their friends with the utter absurdity of their imaginations gone wild.
"Look Plankus, hims fat on top and starvin on the bottom."
"You is crazy funny, Timbo, make anutter."
"Nah, lets go spit at cars."
"Yeah, dis flip book sucks anywho."
So it's not graduation that is stalling out the making of this motion picture.
Last week, I came home feeling great.
I even did shirtless marchy-tap dance numbers for the delight of my children.
Then I went to get the mail.
Towards the end of the driveway, I saw a brown, furry lump covered with flies.
It was Fred the cat.
He was still alive, barely, and his eyes had been completely exploded out of their sockets by the impact of a car.
"Oh no," I said aloud.
There was something so fragile and awful about the way he moved his blinded head to zero in on the sound of my voice.
I wrote a post about his death, and filled it with all the philosophical yearning I could perspire into one blog, but then I deleted it.
It was a little much, even for me.
Though I liked one of the pictures I drew for it:
And I liked the ending:
I like how this chicken gives it to me straight.
I wait so long in between posting that my negative thinking blocks me from finishing anything at all.
What do you guys think of those bloggers that challenge themselves to post every day?
Is it just a pain, and does it make you as readers not feel like clicking over?
Let me know, because I am contemplating trying it, just to build my "I don't care what people think, I'm posting this picture of a chicken making out with a Spock doll" levels.
Do you think those are levels I should even be building?
What am I even talking about? I'm such a dork.
At times like this, I recall the words of Mandy Fish: "You keep forgetting that blog readers have no expectations of blog writers. That expectation is all in your head. We're just happy you post."
I think about that comment a lot.
And I have been neglectful:
Heather/Violet from Creative Devolution gave me a blog award
Please go read her blog. She draws funny stuff in much the same way I try to.
And....Brian at Why Do I Bother? gave me this
Brian writes musings and gets mad if you don't smile. Check him out and make him feel awkwardly loved.
Blog awards tend to come with many, many conditions, but I think this outtake from my stop motion failure sums it all up:
Thanks for reading!!!