Greenless Child

 by Ann Weems

 I watched her go uncelebrated into second grade,  

 A greenless child,  
 Gray among the orange and yellow,  
 Attached too much to corners and other people’s sunshine.  
 She colors the rainbow brown  
 And leaves balloons unopened in the packages.  
 Oh, who will touch this greenless child?  
 Who will plant alleluias into her heart  
 And send her dancing into all the colors of God?  
 Or will she be left like an unwrapped package on the kitchen table?  
 Too dull for anyone to take the trouble?  
 Does God think we’re her keeper?  


 (from Reaching for Rainbows) 

Blogspot Helpful Hint

If you have trouble getting rid of original formatting when you cut and paste something here, run it through Excel first. Maybe there are more logical ways, or other things everybody else knows, but I thought that was pretty cool.

Having discovered that, and being in a design-y mood, here are some fonts I just downloaded to play with:

Licorice Strings

Katy Berry

Grudge

Kings of Pacifica

Please Show Me Love

A Whole Other Country

Montreal mascot Youppi

When I lived on the east coast of  California I followed baseball passionately. Being close to Nevada casinos I also kept meticulous stats to help with the occasional wagering. (Betting tip: A team winning the first games of a series will likely not do as well in the last game, especially on the road.)

At the time I could name the teams in each division and give the standings within a couple of games, with two exceptions. I never confused the Mets and Yankees, or Phillies and Pirates, or Giants and A's, but always had to stop and think which team was in Montreal and which was in Toronto. Expos or Blue Jays? That makes sense in a way. I had a mental picture of the other places and teams, but the concept of "Canada-ness" as something foreign would override any other categories.

The other exception? Rangers and Astros. I couldn't even remember from one day to the next which team dressed like layered Jell-O molds. That either says something about the foreignness of Texas, or its overwhelming identity as a state that the other 49 lack.

After beng here 20 years, I'd say it's both of those. The state tourism board used to have a slogan, "Texas: It's Like a Whole Other Country". They probably don't know how true it really was. And considering Gov. Rick Perry's prayer rally and other recent lunacies, I don't necessarily mean that in a good way.

Dead and Dying Whimsy

August already. Beginning of the end of summer in the academic calendar, descent into hell in terms of weather. Highs this week close to 110. Nowhere near the end of summer, which happens in these parts around mid-October. (Just in time for the Texas State Fair and this year's specialty, fried.... beer???)

I've missed posting here, the weird little funny, whiny, self-mocking things I was really starting to get into that don't belong anywhere else. But whimsy is the one of the first things to go this time of year as leaves and lawns shrivel, and energy wanes.

What kind of brush fire happens in a field of dead and dying whimsy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Which of course reminded me of this...

Harlem [Dream Deferred]

     by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?