Creative license.

Manawydan. One of the Three Gold Shoemakers. The Mabinogion also lists him as a knight of Arthur, which is tough, since he rolled with Bran. But, hey.

I'm indulging an old man in his weakness for frippery. And maybe poking a bit of fun. But any guy that parties down with the head of his king for eighty years can be pardoned an attatchment to ruffles. Besides, he's a craftsman and allowed a certain amount of flair. Dude worked in lapis, for chrissakes.

On the Dubble.

To color or not to color? Things could go great--I like to think I've got quite the handle on polka dotted kerchiefs. There's nice opportunity here for some florid complexioning and those trees would be a breeze. But something's holding me back--something more than an extended weekend absence and the look of warning from a dandy candlestick maker. Sometimes that fourth wall cracks for a reason.

I'll come back to it.

Dismissing the Greats.

The Princess and the Goblin. A disappointing read on any number of scores. Misleading on a few others.
First, there's no one goblin. There is, however, a slew with whom--outside of a failed kidnapping--the princess has...no connection. That's right. No real abduction. No years spent slaving in the mines. No arduous but inevitable change in her captors' affections leading to release and an eventual return 'cuz she loves 'em all so much. Just lots of rancor and a division that borders on racism.
There's an age problem. She's eight, the boyhero Curdie is eleven. This makes for some juvenile dialougue and nixes the potential for any romantic plot. (All hopes for rescue, elopement--possibly even a furtive makeout scene on a dusty mine floor, post-escape--all come to nothing). Booh.
No dragons. For some reason, I thought there would be. And why the hell shouldn't I have?
Add to this my growing suspicions, while reading, that the whole thing was the author's lameass attempt at witnessing, and you end with a piece that's hard to digest.

But the scenes between the Princess and the Nurse are fantastic, and worth a shake.

speaking of...

Last to know?

You really DO always come back.

"It's unbelievable. I've never seen anything like it before. It goes, and goes, and goes..."
Mike Banks

Last time we saw Aerobie he was taking his virgin flight off the hotel balcony and gleefully sailing into the arms of the Atlantic. Well, he's back. Luv'd up, barnacled, water-weary and sitting astride our fire hydrant like some kind of returning crusader. That or he was hung there as warning--Neptune's first act in the war against thrill-seeking, upstart beachtoys.

Wrap.

A little late in coming, maybe, but I had to get it out. That or run the risk of holiday remnants cropping up in all of my springtime venues. Dollys amongst the foxglove, teddys in the glens. Regiments of unfinished toy soldiers storming the sills of all of my pretty country kitchens, scaring the mice with their "Vive la Revolucion!"s.

Best that some worlds live in ignorance.

OklahOma-oklahOma-oklahOma!!!

Listening to the Flaming Lips "Do You Realize?" the other day and a strange pronunciation struck me. The word doesn't, doubly contracted into near nonsense.

Ex: "The sun d'n't go down."

It comes out as dunt, and reminded me so much of my Okie-bred sister in law that I had to investigate. Sure enough, the band is from Oklahoma City--ten miles from Mari's hometown, and apparently the seat of Vigorous Apostrophe-ing.

All very adorable. Just don't get her started on the word heighth.

Side by side on a wire.

That the new year's been masquerading as October is absolutely fine. Saw some crows bobbing agreement from scanty harbors. And a moon threading jetstreams into useless winter blankets. Lots of compulsive shivering wasted.

And then there's stumbling onto this.