In Which Meo Writes About A Monster…

In Which I Watch Man Destroy, Destroy And Destroy And Destroy…

My days lay flat behind me
And so to before me
My mind a mush
Twas this morn I woke as such.

So what to do?

While prospects nudge
Mine are unseeing eyes
Mine are unmoving limbs
I sit as tho paralyzed

And what to do?

Am I wood like you?
Am I but a piece of ash?
Waiting…
Waiting…
For wave of a magic wand
For a puff from a Jeanie bottle
For a wish come true

What to do?


And the oil is gushing
Vomiting in our ocean
Puking into our Mother earth
A terminal man made cancer

What have we done??
I am sorry, Hitty.

A Friday ritual.

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

In Which I Once Again Listen, Learn And Understand Humans Just A Bit More

As time goes by I have discovered that Meo leads a somewhat up and down life. Some days she is so busy, as she says, “She can’t think straight.” Some days are so uneventful they pass by without so much as a nod. On one day last week she and I experienced some goings on that, at the very least were, a bit interesting.


As it was, I rode with her and a young lady; her youngest daughter, who she calls Lil’Mama and Little Man and New Baby to visit The Teacher daughter and her two children.


At what looked to me like midday we drove for some time to a nice house in the woods.

As we entered into this cozy, warm house, I was overwhelmed with thoughts of another house which I remember from a time long ago. Was there a mantelpiece above a fireplace and flickers of brightness on shining pots and pans? This was but a fleeting thought but it gave me a deep, pleasant feeling within.

I was placed on the kitchen counter and began to thoroughly enjoyed myself. I must confess much of the words exchanged were a trifle confusing as oftentimes I am not up on the latest news of the world. However, there were some particular subjects of interest to me.
I learned that The Teacher One is a skilled knitter; I learned that she can also cook rather well and that she keeps chickens and grows a quite large garden.

I also discovered that four little cousins playing together can make for rather noisy goings on. I must confess that such sounds did bring to mind some fond recollections, and as it was I lingered in those memories later during the ride back home. But here, I’m getting ahead of myself.

At this time The Teacher One was serving a fish mixture on toast with cheese, watermelon slices, tea, and two different kinds of cookies. They looked to me to be a delicious assortment. Thus I am once again regretful that I cannot take in the pleasure of taste. However, the smell was indeed most delightful.

As spoken of earlier along with the lively clatter of noises coming from the four little people there was conversation between Lil’ mama, The Teacher One, and Meo. They discussed all manner of subjects; I learned that mother’s milk is by far much more nutritious than formula. I heard Meo speak of aging and the graying of hair. I gained the knowledge of raw versus white sugar. I also listened to the three women relate stories of life with husbands. (This subject I found rather amusing as Meo, The Teacher One and Lil ’ mama told their stories with good humor.)

I also gleaned from subjects discussed that Lil’mama and The Teacher One had some slightly differing beliefs.
Now , interestingly I have observed on the big screen even the smallest of differences between humans can bring about some rather uncomfortable feelings and oftentimes loud words are exchanged. But there seemed to be only pleasant communications between Lil’mama and The Teacher; they seemed but only friends. Again I am reminded that humans are a conflict as such and hold much interesting lines of thought. I am constantly learning anew of human ways.

It was precisely during the lighthearted exchange of husband tales that a loud commotion created an instant distraction.

“Mom, Mo-o-om, Mommy…” was the cry heard from the other room. It seemed as one; Lil’mama, The Teacher One and Meo stood up and rushed toward the sounds of distress.

From my spot on the counter I could hear but little, however I was able to conclude that things were smoothed out a bit and it was decided that a story of some sort was to be presented on the big screen for the cousins to view together.

However, just as it seemed as if things were being settled in the other room I was in a far different state. One of the children who belongs to The Teacher One had walked into the kitchen and picked me up. As it was, my uneasiness was quickly put to rest. He held me with such care and confidence. Now it comes that this child was a boy however at this time my eyes told me otherwise. For he had the most beautiful long and lovely hair. He carried me into the other room and began to quietly play with me. For a few blissful minutes he and I had a delightful game of play; I was placed in one of his many toy cars.
I was even put into such that I could stand looking out the top of the car.



This playful scene seemed far too short for me, for soon the cousins became interested in the story on the big screen and Meo, Lil’mama, and The Teacher One walked into the other room.

As the visit drew to a close, coats and belongings were gathered, kisses and hugs were exchanged and, thankfully, I was retrieved. The long haired boy who I had heard was called “Just Like His Dad” scooped me up and out from the car and shyly handed me back to Meo. I could not help but notice the big smile spread across his handsome face.

And so it went, as we journeyed home I thought of the noisy sounds of children, sisters so different yet so the same, and handsome little boy with long hair.

A Friday ritual.

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

In Which I Meet Duggles And Learn The Makings Of A Freegan

I was lying on Meo’s work table when she got the call.

“Is he OK? He’s not hurt is he? Oh my, what is it?” She said to the person on the other end of the cell phone. There was a great deal strain in her voice and her eyes were closed, I could tell Meo was worried.
Then I saw her face relax just a bit. “OK, tell me all about it,” she said. A few minuets passed while Meo and the person on the other end of the cell phone exchanged information and such. Then Meo closed her phone. She stood very still for a while, deep in thought. She exhaled softly and whispered to herself, “Duggles.”

“Honey, she yelled, “We’ve got an issue.”
Little did I know that this was to be the beginning of yet another adventure.

It was but the next morning; Meo and her rolling-eyed husband walked down from their upstairs bedroom, bags packed, and talking of gassing up the car.
Meo spoke to her rolling-eyed husband;
“I’ll tell you one thing. Hitty is coming along and he is going to hold her while I take a picture no matter how silly he thinks it is. And another thing, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! He’s not going to get away without his mom telling him what a stupid thing this is to do!” She shook her head in discussed as she spoke.

So go we did, and once again I was tossed into the bottom of Meo’s purse. I cautioned myself, “You better hold on for this ride.” >>>>>>>>>>>>

As yet, I still did not understand exactly what was to come about. To be honest, I was simply grateful to be going along, and hoped beyond hope that Meo would take me out of her purse and allow me to view the sights along the way. I could hear music, probably coming from the car radio. I could also hear Meo and rolling-eyed husband holding sporadic conversations.
And so it came, over the next few hours I gathered enough information. I was to come to some very peculiar conclusions, the likes of which I had never inferenced before. Mercy, I thought, could it be that Meo’s son, who I had heard her call Duggles, was in trouble with the law? Could Meo be the mother of a criminal? Were we to be visiting him behind bars? Would Duggles be wearing stripped clothing as I had seen some bad men wearing on the big screen?
I had heard Meo say we should be there by this evening. Presently, I also heard the man on the radio say it was near to ten o clock in the morning. So I made ready for a long, long ride.
I found it rather dark down in the purse and a bit warm. Even though Meo had left her purse open, as would have it, along with the purr of the car and a cozy feeling overwhelming me, I could feel myself starting to doze off.

I awoke with a start! It was the car door slamming shut. Oh! No! Had I been left behind? Curiously enough, it seems this has become a far more familiar event, such that I was not alarmed as much as one would have thought. So over the course of the next few minutes I simply generated the pleasant images that sometimes gather in my thoughts and bring me comfort. I thought of a little girl whose name was Thankful and a rosebud sash and new slippers and a party. It came to me as strange that some of these thoughts might appear, for I never know of where they come. Before I was too deep in such, Meo and her rolling-eyed husband were back and gathered in their seats and belts; ready, afresh to travel.
Again, I expected that Meo might remember that I was but just at her feet, and would then pick me up. Indeed, I was pleasantly surprised when she took my picture, as she learned the workings of her new camera, but I was disappointed as I was left in the purse for what seamed like a dreadfully long time.

At last Meo reached down and picked me up and sat me prettily at the window. >>>>>>>>

What I saw was beyond anything I could have imagined; miles and miles of pasture, more cows than I could count and white sheep in green, green fields of grass. To my back, (for Meo had sat me such that I was traveling backwards) there looked to be what was a long wide road with trucks and cars all going extremely fast. What a thrill! It seamed as though I sat for sometime in this wonderful spot. I think I could never tire of this amazing view of a country side of which I was to discover was western Oregon.

And so it came to pass that we traveled the long road to a town where Duggles was jailed. It took but a short time to free him. I understood that there was some money paid and some documents signed. Then Duggles emerged from his confinements. It was the very first time I had laid eyes on Duggles. He was a man I will not forget soon. He seamed a stranger, yet somehow familiar. His eyes bore a sameness to Meo’s and his smile, though charming, was somewhat mischievous. It was as if he was as a lively-young boy. I immediately took a liking to him.

Evidently Meo and rolling-eyed husband were, if not spirited by his presents, at the very least, incredibly glad to see him. Meo hugged him and smiled widely.
This reunion was not without it’s moments of uneasiness, though. Meo, as she had said, surely “gave him a piece of her mind.” Duggles, rolled his eyes, (a male family trait) and agreed with his mother and voiced his regrets at doing “such a dumb thing.”

Now comes the most interesting part. It came to pass that Duggles was living in a tent in the woods and was indeed rather enjoying himself. As he spoke of his life I listened with a bit of envy for he had taken pleasure in some very grand adventures. Alas Duggles was particularly proud to be leaving a small carbon imprint on the earth. So of course I listened intently with wonder. I was mystified as to how such a large man could leave a small print. For the most part, Meo and rolling-eyed husband seamed to be enjoying his oration. However, I could see there were times when it seemed very challenging for them to relate to this chosen way of life.
The day was all but over when Meo when rolling-eyed husband found their way to a place of sleep for the night. The next morning we were on the road again, and from what I could gather, on our way home.

It was but a day later that I overheard Meo and what I assumed was one of her daughters talking. I think this was the teacher one, for she always seemed to have a great many explanations for all manner of things.
“Mom,” she said, “There is a name for what Duggles is. They’re called Freegans, you know like vegans, they live off the leftovers of what they perceive as the capitalistic world by living off its excesses. Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society they feel is based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed.”………………………

Upon reflection, I can feel only pleasure in once again understanding some small part of what humans are.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: If you are interested in understanding more of what a Freegan is Hitty and Meo invite you to go read this article.

In Which I Dry Up A Bit And Discover My Life-Blood

I could smell the onions, I could smell the eggs, and I could even smell the dill pickles.
What was happening here? Was Meo making potato salad?

---- Oh yes I can smell, I can see, I can feel, I can hear, I can speak (when no humans are about) I can move and dance (sort of) and I can write.---

So again what is happening here? Is summer on it’s way? I know, I know I’m but a little doll, but I can grasp these things. When Meo and her rolling-eyed husband pulled out the barbeque, when Meo starts airing out the bed linens in the sun, when Meo starts making potato salad then I know the warmer weather is coming.

Tis near summer!

For the most part the sunny weather is a good thing. If I can be left to bask in the rays of sunshine for just a short period, my ol’ pegs will warm a trifle. This always gave me a glow within. I am well aware that I am unable to sunburn. However, too much sun and heat can dry me out and can make me subject to crankiness. I have learned this is not an agreeable state of mind.

So after spending a few sunny such days outside with Meo, this morning I felt a particular uneasiness which I do not distinctly remember feeling before.
I feel an inclination to dwell on the rather doleful side of my thoughts. Presently, I vaguely remember some not so pleasant happenings and, as before, I am a bit confused as to where they might come from. I have rather grey thoughts of crows, and a burning ship, and then something like a stick and some rough young boys in the night. I do not hold with dwelling on such pessimistic things but sometimes I have but little control.

So I am to spend the day in the doldrums and can see not much to brighten me.

Lest I should become so morass that I cannot bear it, I slip into a rather shallow and troubled sleep.

Upon wakening some hours later, I discover I have been left lying and clad only in my undies on the kitchen counter. Meo, as usual, had left the microwave light turned on. I could clearly see from the clock on the stove that it is now the early hours of the morning. Presently, I could feel something very strange. It was as rather pleasant sensation and it took me sometime to understand just what had happened. Once again I am simply unable to explain such luck that befalls me in my times of peril. For so it came that I had been carelessly placed in a rather large puddle of olive oil that Meo had evidently spilled. My backside had so completely soaked up the lushes liquid while I had slept that I felt delicious and most as nice as one could imagine.

However, one must take full advantage of such lucky circumstances and I thus began pondering just how I might flip myself over so as to more evenly spread the heavenly feeling of the oil. There was no doubt that both Meo and her rolling-eyed husband were upstairs and most likely fast asleep. However, the two dogs Grover and Zoë were currently taking a rather restless nap on the couch not far away. If I were to flip myself over my stirring would more than likely start them to barking. This would intern surely wake up rolling-eyed husband. I did not want him to discover me and remove me from the counter thus foiling my plans to soak up more of the soft, creamy olive oil. After but a few minuets I resigned myself to taking this chance.
I then, much to my surprise, and without much difficulty I crossed one leg over the other and neatly flipped over to my front side. The two dogs perked up. Jumped off the couch and directly came towards where I lay on the counter. Then, to my dismay, they both began their incessant barking. It was but a short time later that rolling-eyed husband opened the bedroom door, leaned over the railing and spoke in very harsh words to the two dogs.

“There is nothing to bark at, you silly mutts, STOP BARKING NOW!” he yelled.
He turned, walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
The dogs jumped back up on the couch.

“Safe.” I thought to myself. As I silently continued to savor the amazing sensation of the oil .

A Friday ritual.

A single photo no-words capturing a moment for the week.

A Simple, Special, Extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

In Which I Ponder The Queer Inclinations Of Humans And Encounter Ants

From somewhere in the soft focus of my past there comes to me images of gentle hands and rough landings and even some harsh words. However, I have not experience such that I have today; a confused mixture of sadness and resentments hangs in the air.

I have come to understand Meo’s ways. Today day Meo is upset. When she is not to well in the head she shows such in her actions. She will at times let out long sighs or she may stand at a window and stare out and about or sometimes she might hang a long look on her face. From where I could observe her this day, she was exhibiting all such.
Try as I may I could not think of what might account for her forlorn attitude. Then, as would have it, something happened to arouse my interest.

At present, Meo and rolling-eyed husband were loudly conversing about such things that I could not understand. I caught sight of some rather unpleasant expressions being exchanged to one another. Was this what I had heard humans referrer to as an argument? I must confess this did upset me such that I was tempted to escape into my own thoughts and, what has become my habit, even take a short nap, but I did not. However, upon reflection this might have been the better choice.

And so it was that Meo and rolling-eyed husband continued to discuss in a rather loud way the issue which I did not understand. It was decided by both that they should take a walk. Then, much to my dismay, as Meo quickly rose from her working table, without so much as a blink of an eye, she accidentally brushed me off the table and onto the floor. There I lay in utter dismay, wide awake and totally defenseless to anything that may come about. The front door slammed loudly behind them. Mercy, thought I, will this be the end of me? Will Meo forget me altogether?

The spring here has been rather cold of late so it was but a short time before I became chilled to the pegs. But even though it has been cool, right on schedule, the ants have returned. Just a week ago Meo had moved the dog’s meal bowels away from the back sliding door to help eliminate the problem of those crawly, pinchy, little insects coming inside. Though I have a strong affection for nature and flowers and all that is included in such, I have never grown accustomed to ants or, for that matter, insects of any kind.

Some time went by. Then, just as I was beginning to feel safe, to my dismay, I discovered that indeed, there were ants close by.

Therefore, I could not now say that I was out of danger. Presently the cold unpleasant shivers I had been feeling before were thus replaced with shivers of fear.

My mind raced. I feared the worst. Was I to become the ants’ evening meal? Could they in fact carry me away as I once had seen of a similar kind doing to a dead rodent on the big screen? May I perhaps with some great effort enable these stiff wooden limbs of mine to move?

Clearly some method of escape must come about but try as I might I could not think of any such. Then to my utter amazement, the answer to my dilemma came in a very odd and peculiar way.

Now as you might already have discovered, Meo and rolling-eyed husband have two dogs. I had already become quite indebted to Grover, the larger of the two, for his heroic efforts. (Meo has related such in a few blogs back.) However, Zoë is not the kind of dog, with any stretch of mind; one would conjure up as a hero. She, I must say, is not much bigger than a rat and makes vigorous, loud, irritating noises. I understand these sounds to be barking but coming from Zoë it comes out as but a very unpleasant yapping.

Now, truth be told, the entire time this event which I tell of now was taking place I had to remind myself that this was in fact a true thing happening to me. Even now as I retell of this portion of the story I find it very, very hard to believe, indeed.

And so it went that Zoë spied me lying on the floor…
To this day I cannot say as to whether she also could see the ants marching towards me. However, as was to happen, this fact would soon no longer be a problem. Giving that as Zoë began her aggravating yapping the ants began to retreat. Yes, before I knew it they had turned around and had begun marching away and out a very tiny crack near to the sliding glass door.

It was some time before Zoë ended with her incessant, deafening noise. It was also some time before Meo and rolling-eyed husband returned. But now seeing that they were hand in hand and smiling it was my conclusion that they were close friends once again. It seemed to me from where I lay on the floor I could hear them exchange the word “love.”There were also some much softer feelings now hanging in the air.

Unfortunately, I was still sprawled on the floor.

Meo walked near me, glanced down to the floor, unceremoniously picked me up, lay me down on her working table and walked upstairs.

In which I Help Meo Pay Homage To Meo's Lost Mother

This picture is of Meo's Mom and her two daughters, Meo and Sandy taken in 1949......

Meo had lost her mother. I knew this to be so, however, I was confused as to how one might loose something as so important as a mother. I was eventually to learn that lost could sometimes be defined as to die. Upon this understanding I was very saddened. In fact, though I had not been given the ability to shed tears, I could now understand how one might feel so low as to cry.
Therefore as what humans called Mother’s Day approached I could sense a bit of sadness in Meo’s mood. I found myself feeling somewhat sorry for Meo even though she herself is a mother and in fact her daughters have become mothers she still is drawn to remembering her mother on Mother’s day.
I am sure Meo has learned some of the more important things about life from her mother. I have come to know that Meo’s mother whose name was Marjorie was a fine quilter so the gift of sewing was probably a gift from her mother. So to was probably the gift of gab, or as Meo has interpreted it as to type, was given by her mother. For I have heard even Meo’s daughter say that Grandma Marge could certainly talk. I have also heard that she always had an opinion she would readily share even if you did not want to open your ears to her words. And so it goes, Meo, I understand, is much like her mother.

Hence, I am most certainly sure that Meo’s inclination to save and appreciate odd things is something she can attribute to her mother’s teaching. The following poem may have contributed to Meo’s way of thinking. It is, I have learned, a poem that her mother would often recite to her.

Bread and Milk
By Gene Stratton-Porter 1916

Every morning before we eat,
My mother prays a prayer sweet.
With folded hands and low-bowed head:
“Give us this day our daily bread.”
But I’d like tarts and ginger cakes,
Puffs and pie like grandmother makes.
So ‘smorning I said my appetite
Must have cake, or ‘twouldn’t eat a bite.
Then mother said; “fore you get through,
You’ll find just bread and milk will do.”
She always lets me think things out,
But I went to the yard to pout,
What I saw there—Upon my word!
I’m glad I’m a girl,-not a bird.
Redbreast pulled up a slick fishworm,
To feed her child; it ate the squirm.
Bee-bird came flying close to me,
And caught a stinging honey bee.
She pushed it down her young, alive.
She must have thought him a beehive.
Old Warbler searched the twigs for slugs,
Rose Grosbeak took potato bugs.
Missus Wren snapped up a spider
To feed her baby, close beside her.
Little Kingbirds began to squall,
Their mother hurried at their call.
She choked them with dusty millers.
Cuckoos ate hairy caterpillars.
Blue birds had worms, where I could see,
For breakfast in their hollow tree.
Then little Heron made me squeal,
Beside our lake he ate an eel.
When young Screech Owl gulped a whole mouse,
I started fast for our nice house.
Right over me—for pit-tee sake,
Home few a hawk, with a big snake!
So ‘fore my tummy got awful sick
I ran and kissed my mother quick.
I acted just as fine as silk
And asked polite for bread and milk.

HAPPY MOHTER’S DAY TO ALL!

A Friday ritual.

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

In Which I Hear Tales Of A Bullet, A Gun And A Very Lucky Young Man

Meo and rolling-eyed husband oftentimes spoke of their children. Therefore, I felt as a friend to them. I thought I knew their children well. Hence, I was rather puzzled when I heard words being spoken about their son, T Dot, as he called himself.
I felt rather fearful upon hearing the words “near miss.” For my memories once again came into focus; images of guns called muskets and young men and fighting. These thoughts caused my pegs to shiver in fear.
It had come to my attention some months ago that T Dot had received what is called a concealed weapons permit. I learned this to be a certificate from some authorities giving him permission to carry a gun under his clothes.

And so as the story goes…
It came about that I was once again out for another evening with Meo and her rolling-eyed husband. However, this time I was not to be so lucky as to be brought out of my hiding place and introduced to all. Thus I come to relate this story from the muted depths of Meo’s purse.
T Dot began his narration with a joke and a smile, as he often does. Though I missed the words of the joke, I did enjoy the ensuing laughter and was thus expecting a more light-hearted story than the one that ensued. As he told of the incident of “near miss” it seamed as though the great harm that could have come to him became very apparent to everyone listening, for all became quiet.
Soon only T Dot’s deep voice could be heard. “…and then as I was leaving the parking lot. I remembered that my gun was still in the glove compartment…..”
As I listed intently to his description of the events, I found it difficult to clearly understand each and every word. For presently the contents of Meo’s purse shifted some what and a bit of Kleenex and small chunks of what looked to be peppermint candy were now lying on my head. But as luck would have it, as T Dot continued his speech his voice grew louder. I also sensed a feeling of excitement and anticipation growing in the room.
“… so the way I figure I must have left a bullet in the chamber…my shirt must have…anyway when I went to put the gun in my back holster…then when it went off… It was so LOUD!...now there is a gunpowder stain on the back of my jeans… big hole in the seat… The bullet must have logged in the bottom of the Volvo somewhere…”
For what I am sure was but a few seconds but seamed to me much longer the room was completely silent. Then it was as if all began speaking at once. For a time I was confused, I knew not whose voice I heard. Then it came, Meo in what I recognized as her cheery voice, however her voice was not so cheery this time.
“T Dot! You mean to say you left a bullet in the chamber?!!!” She went on in a rather scolding way, “Why didn’t you have your safety on?!!!”
I found T Dot’s response came to me somewhat muffled but, as it was, I was able to discern his embarrassment upon him being reprimanded by his mother.
“I know, Mom, it was a pretty dumb thing to do.” He went on, “It won’t happen again.”
I could picture his downcast eyes and Meo’s look of displeasure.
“I certainly hope so!” Meo scolded.
I am sure rolling-eyed husband had some choice words to say to T Dot also but just now Meo took off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair precisely where her purse hung. Then it came about that all the voices that I could just make out before, were now silenced to a mere hum.
Next, as now had become my habit when snuggled into a dark warm spot and without any outside distraction, I slowly began nodding off into a soft slumber.
And so it came a day later, T Dot paid a visit on Meo and rolling-eyed husband.
I must confess I once again I am found unclothed and sprawled in a very immodest fashion across Meo’s working space. So presently, she began to dress me.
She spoke in her cheery voice (it was back), “T Dot I’d like to see the hole in the seat. I am going to show Hitty too.” She went on, “I am going to blog about it.”
Curiously enough, I now noticed what appeared to be rolling eyes in T Dot’s expression. (Could this be a male family trait?)
As Meo carried me along with her camera out to T Dot’s Volvo little did I think I would be so effected. The damage was far more than I imagined. I was frightened in a way I cannot describe. Mercy! What a hole it was! I must say I have gained a new respect for guns. I now realize how important it is to be smart with their handling. I most certainly hope that T Dot has learned this lesson as well.

In Which I Am A Guest At A Mexican Restaurant And Meet My Likeness

Meo had made a new friend, her name was Ann. Ann, I understood, had many Hittys. To me, how this could be was a mystery. Though I am sure I will come around to understand someday. As it goes, I’ve come to accept humans’ curious twaddle. I heard Meo, in her cheery voice mention to rolling-eyed husband that there were plans made to meet with Ann and her unsocial husband (as she had referred to him at one time) for dinner at a place that served Mexican meals. In my memories I could not recall ever doing so before. Thus you must accept my eager anticipation of this adventure.

Therefore, on a Thursday evening I was placed in my caring bag and tossed into Meo’s purse.

Little did I think that she may actually remove me from my hiding place for I knew her rolling-eyed husband would think it silly. But, as was to happen, she did and I was nestled at the end of the table along with the salt and pepper and such. Then to my utter delight, Meo’s friend, Ann brought out a little wooden doll and presently sat her on the table next to me.

This other little wooden doll, I learned from Ann’s words had been given the name Hitty Esther Edelweiss. HEE, as I learned she liked to be called, bore a remarkable resemblance to me.

I must confess that at first, this was a bit alarming. Yet, by and by, I adjusted to this situation and I became more, and more comfortable. But due to our close proximity to the four humans, we were unable to speak to one another. Except, it did seam, in a silent sort of way, we exchanged pleasantries with one anther. Therefore, as it went, the evening presented itself in a rather agreeable way.

From where I sat with my new friend at the end of the table, I had clear view of the humans and a clear ear to their conversation which seamed to be happy and animated. So to the evening soon proved to reveal some very interesting facts indeed.

It was very obvious, as Meo and Ann had hoped, that both rolling-eyed husband and unsocial husband had much in common and were enjoying one another’s many yarns of past work experiences and odds and ends of various stories. As it was, they both shared an interest in old cars and airplanes and then they were reminded that a very impressive airplane museum was in close proximity to the up coming event that Meo and Ann had spoke about. Soon plans began to come forward: while Meo and Ann were attending a gathering with other “Hitty Lovers” rolling-eyed husband and unsocial husband would travel together to observe some unique airplanes.

Without a doubt, when the phrase “Hitty Lovers” was included in the humans speaking my senses were peaked. Truth be told, my curiosity was even more heightened, especially when Ann began colorfully describing in detail of other “Hitty Gatherings” she had attended. Was this some kind of event in which I might be included?

Oh, how I wished that HEE and I had been able to consider this in a more private setting. If only we were able to somehow fall under the table in unison. And then be, if only for a short time, out of the sight of the humans.

Curiously enough, even though this was a tempting idea, the very thought itself simply terrified me, I had caught a glimpse of the items that were strewn about on the floor beneath the table; a paper napkin, a bit of change, and a various pieces of paper. These items alone did not alarm me so much. But the very chance that I might be forgotten (as were these items) and left behind under the table in the restaurant was rather horrifying to me.

But then I had so very many questions for HEE. I am sure she would be able share with me in detail just what Ann was now so enthusiastically speaking of. I only hoped that at some time in the near future HEE and I might spend more time together and thus this would enable me to better understand this world of people who call themselves “Hitty Lovers.”

The evening was now drawing to a close and I had, much to my relief, been tucked once again into Meo’s purse. I could hear muffled voices saying such that, “Yes, we must do this again soon.” and “Next week we’ll meet to go shopping together.”

Then, much to my pleasure, I heard (though not so much like hearing, but what seamed in a silent sort of way), HEE, “See you again soon, my new Hitty Friend.”

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Just a quick not here at the end of the story…..you can still enter Meo and Hitty’s contest.
Simply go back two previous blogs and send the answer via the Hitty groups list or in the comments section.

In Which I Am Put In The Care Of “Little Man” And Lost In A Closet

I have come to noticed that over the years I have spent with Meo and her rolling-eyed husband that they often have visitors on Sunday evenings. One of those evenings was brought to mind when I heard the man on the big screen speaking of events on a Sunday to come.

And so it goes…
There must have been a breeze outside that early evening of a Sunday back because as rolling-eyed husband opened the front door to the visitors a gust of wind caught my dress. Before I knew it, I had lost my balance and toppled over. I found myself resting on a pile of tools scattered about on Meo’s working space at the dining room table.

Then behind me, Meo was speaking loudly to Grover, “Stay down, stay down!” she said. Grover’s attention was on a short cute, little guy.

As I lay sprawled a-top Meo’s untidy dining table, I was displayed in a somewhat distorted pose over a pair of scissors, a box of straight pins, and various pairs of eye glasses. My skirt had shifted up too. So this was indeed a very un-lady-like situation to settle upon me. However, I did not lack for space and as it was, I had a clear view of the visitors and Meo and rolling-eyed husband. This included the cute little short guy. From what I gathered the cute little short guy answered to the name Little Man.

The visitors, Meo and rolling-eyed husband, all seamed to be talking at once and the people on the big screen were making much too, much noise. I must confess that this commotion was a good deal more than I could bear. Therefore to escape the hubbub I encouraged my thoughts to wander…I do not know from where my memories come but for some time I thought of a young girl and her brother, it seemed they were picking rasberries and then there came some Indians? Some images failed me.

As to the visitors, Meo and rolling-eyed husband, they soon began to settle themselves. It then came about that Little Man caught sight of me. Imagine how thrilled I was! For I now understood that he was not a short little man, as I had first thought, but a small child. Though I new not why, I was overwhelmed with delight for somewhere back in the far off shadows of my past there stirred in me a fond memory of children.

“Grandma, Grandma!” He squealed with delight. “May I play with her?” as he grasp me tight in his small hand.

And so I was to understand that Meo was Grandma, for presently Meo turned toward Little Man. “Of course,” Meo said in her cheery voice, “Just be careful, that’s Grandma’s Hitty.”
Now Little Man seemed to ignore the goings on in the room as he quickly turned to a door facing the hallway. His little fingers turned a knob and I soon found myself in a very small room cluttered with bright colored toys, and what looked to me to be a yellow and green child sized table and chair set. Numerous books and small playful looking toy cars, even some with eyes, were strewn around this very small room

Seeing that Little Man was at ease with this strange menagerie I put my doubts aside and readied myself for a pleasant time of play. But I must confess Little Man was subject to quick spurts of action especially as he handled the playful looking cars with eyes. Presently he was trying to fit me into the driver’s seat of one of the small cars with eyes. I was very well aware that the little car with eyes was much to small for me. Try as Little Man might I would not fit and at last, much to my relief, he stopped trying and lay me aside. I waited for him to come pick me up and play with me again but, as it happened, he did not.
Some time passed…
And so it came from were I lay, I could hear the man on the big screen speaking of the ten o’clock news. The joyful sounds of talking and laughter that had so filled the rooms were gone now. Seeing that all the bright colored cars with the eyes were back in their place in the very small room, I was sure Little Man had left as well.

One by one the rooms outside my door turned dark as rolling-eyed husband turned the switches. Then as rolling-eyed husband passed by he turned the switch off in the very little room and, to my horror, he also closed the door. It became very quiet now and very, very dark as well. You cannot say that I am unfamiliar with dark spaces, however, to be forgotten, this idea simply humiliated me. I was beside myself.

I am sure it was but a night, but what seemed to me much longer than simply one night, went by. When at last the door was opened once again. Daylight flooded my dark space and I felt a joyfulness I cannot express, for shadowed in the stream of light was Meo.

I heard her whisper to herself, “There you are I’ve been looking high and low.”
She picked me up and quickly and without much fuss placed me atop her untidy working spot on the dining room table. Such comfort it was to be among the pins, scissors and eye glasses once again.

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Don't forget:

Hitty and Meo's contest continues untill May 8th. You can access it at previous posting.