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Ding Dong

10 Sep

In the mornings, I migrate to a cozy, overstuffed, leather chair in a corner of the living room. I sit with the laptop and read, watch the morning news, sip coffee, and watch the hummingbirds at the back porch.

Very peaceful.

I am such a sweet dog. The next part of this post is a lie.

I am such a sweet dog. The next part of this post is a lie.

But one morning last week, our Jack Russell terrier saw the hummingbirds. And in the amazement of seeing something smaller and faster than herself, she jumped on the coffee table and vaulted 4 feet throught the air, and landed smack in my lap, knocking the laptop to the floor and sending my coffee cup flying. All the while, she barked furiously and spun in circles.

Of course, in the middle of this, the doorbell started to ring.

Ding Dong.

It’s 8:15 in the morning.

Ding Dong.

I am covered in coffee, still with my hair in a pony tail, wearing sweats.

Ding Dong.

I frantically extricated myself from the whirling, barking dervish, and rushed to the door.

Ding Dong.

I yelled, “I’m coming, stop ringing the bell!!!” But the doorbell was insistent.

Ding Dong.

I finally got there and threw open the door, bot no one was there. So I walked outside, calling “is anyone there? I’m here!”

No one there, although the neighbor across the street was staring curiously. I waved and went back inside, confused.

And then, I heard a little chime on my iPhone, signaling that I have a new message. It’s from a former neighbor, who is so precious that when she moved, I set a custom ring tone for her.  When she called, I wanted it to feel like she was just stopping by to chat.

So when she calls, my phone rings. In doorbell chimes.

Ding Dong.

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No, I’m not Dedrater. It was Ukiah

9 Feb

So, did you know there’s a whole Internet group for people who think they’re being clever and write Haiku, but then it turns out, they’ve been out of Haiku-writing class for a long time and they end up writing the lines like this:

Clever blog post eludes me.
So, I try Haiku.
But, I miscount syllables.

Real Haiku = 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables
Dork Haiku = 7 syllables, 5 syllables, 7 syllables

And yes, there is whole Internet group of retarded haiku-composers like me. They call it Ukiah. Get it? Haiku backwards. Now that you’re in on the joke, go read the post title again.

Really though, the too-many-syllables Haiku is rather fitting. I can be quite guarded, but when I decide to let it down? “Hello, Oversharers Anonymous?” I do usually share way more than two extra syllables.

As evidence, let’s consider the week before last, when I blogger I adore but DO NOT KNOW linked to a post of mine in her sidebar. I should have sent this email.

“Thank you so much for the nice link. I have followed your blog for a long time, and it really made my day.”

My Ukiah email? More like this:

“Oh my gosh! I saw I was getting some hits from your site and when I saw you linked to me, I totally burst into happy tears! No, not a stalker, but I really, REALLY, REALLYlove your blog and it’s my favorite thing ever and can I send you a puppy or something because you are the coolest thing and I feel like the nerd girl who just got talked to by the head cheerleader and OMG YOU ARE SO AWESOME!!!! Again, not a stalker or 15 years old, just really happy.”

STUNNINGLY, she did not email me back and we are not now BFFs, *and* she may have a restraining order on me. See? Ukiah.

So to summarize:
Yes, I used too many syllables in my Friday Moron Roundup Haiku. Aside: Ha! Note the irony in the title!!
Yes, it’s not surprising, since I can be a real dork.
Yes, I am signing up for an Internet social skills class.

Have a nice Monday.

Love,
lettergirl

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