Platypuss-in-Boots

Aria for a Chinchilla

2010-09-24T19:49:00.001-06:00

How could Platypuss-in-Boots resist a song like this? Plus, some friends have asked to see more pictures of that marvel of chinchillahood, Rosie Posie. So John helped me make a slideshow - thanks to John and to Robert Frost's Banjo!

A word about Courtney, who wrote and performed the song. Like all the composers I admire (and I should mention Grace, Zoe, Isabelle, and Trevor in this company) Courtney writes music from her heart and her experience, music authentic to her own imagination. To me this is particularly to be prized in a composer of her age - because authenticity is not necessarily encouraged in those who dwell in the regions preceding legal majority. In music (and so in life) it can be easier to reflect some idea of what other people think we should be, rather than who we are.

(Pinky, Your Hostess of elephantine pink, wants to point out that Eberle is very attached to the subject of this song, Rosie - who happens to be our very own chinchilla.)

And here's a curious coincidence - some of you may remember (you can check back if you don't) that Rosie's arrival at our house was largely due to a praying mantis. And what do you think showed up in the music room when I asked Courtney to record Rosie's Song? Right next to her on a small table near the recorder? A praying mantis of course! Furthermore, the praying mantis climbed right onto Courtney's hand and did not want to get off AT ALL. We finally had to give it some serious encouragement to get onto a plant in the front room.

Courtney is listening to her first opera this week, and this is one reason why I call the song an Aria in the title of this post. An Aria is a moment in an opera when the singer steps outside of the action, and speaks her heart. Time stops around her - she suspends the story and speaks. I love that image.

And I'm thinking - a praying mantis, the Magic Flute, a song for Rosie - and I'm just starting work on music for puppet theater in McCall...maybe my dream of Finger Puppet Opera will come true sooner than I thought?

Thanks, Courtney!

Heading for the Wilderness

2010-05-06T06:28:00.008-06:00

Utah Phillips mentions the Wilderness in words of advice for a high school graduating class. Beware, he tells them, when people refer to you, America's youth, as an important national resource! Think about what America does with important national resources! I say to you, run! Head for the hills! Flee to the wilderness - preferably the one within.

I've always loved imagining this scene - Utah exhorting, students running for the Exits...

My own version of this Wilderness Adventure is going to Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist Abbey near Lafayette, Oregon on retreat - letting myself fall into solitude and silence. The only survival tools being an interior openness to an encounter with the Universe/God - and conversation with friends who are teachers. Above photo: a walk with Father Mark. I'll be back on May 16th!

Mouse Fairy in Indian Valley!

2010-04-26T18:53:00.004-06:00

Violet Mouse Fairy appeared at our house in Indian Valley last week, accompanied by Tulip Mouse Fairy, Beloved Queen. Tulip did some magical things like turn one of my group music classes into an art class. Violet Mouse Fairy became quite involved in the adventures of the Argonaut crew- you'll be hearing more about that...

It was very handy to have a Mouse Fairy around to help with garden design - Violet had some wonderful ideas about how to use space in the native grove I'm planting. She also chose the site for the gnome house that our good friend and remodel wizard Chris built for the garden. This will be an evolving project, but here's the start. Weenie got in the picture too!

Was It a Draft?

2010-04-22T05:58:00.024-06:00

Was it a draft in the chill chambers of the Argonaut that caused Polar Knight's illness? In all likelihood, we'll never know. But shortly after the Last Lunch, the Big Bard of Big Bed Land, our dear Polar Knight, began exhibiting symptoms of of Poet Fever.

"O, for a draught of vintage," he said as the Animals were closing up their lunchboxes. "O, for a beaker full of the warm South."

They gathered around thinking that Polar Knight was going to treat them to some light apres-lunch poetry.

"Ask not the draft horses to deliver the kiwis, their gleaming loins are meant for the new earth..."

The Animals looked at each other with concern - the Bard was making no sense at all.

"Draft me not into the service of coin, those unyielding battlefields of silver and gold, commanders with graven images on their coined hearts, I am more unyielding even than these, I will not go!"

The Animals began to whisper among themselves. "Does he need a draught of distilled terseness, perhaps even a drastic dose of minimalism?"

"No, no, the fever must be allowed to break!" Pink Bear insisted with such earnestness that they knew she was right. They all agreed and gathered around to listen silently as Polar Knight's delirium increased.

"O Piggles, Beloved, you draft the speech of bees in the roadside hives and fields and they nuzzle their language against the curve of a rose until the stamens tremble, O ecstasy of pollen, the long sigh of fragrance released..."

Some of the Animals had to try very hard not to laugh. "Polar Knight is going to wake up to a serious over-draft in his word bank," Lefty commented. But the Bard didn't even seem to hear as he continued:

"This timeless draught, drawn from the rose by the honey-bee, this timeless dreaht from the rose dragan, sweet scent pulled from an eternal vessel, we are tapping the moist door of heaven, her smell of dell..."

Duffy shook his head sadly. "I think Polar Knight's been at the OED again," as all the Animals started sniffing - the air was all at once steamy and fragrant. They left the Bard and began sniffing around the chamber of the submarine.

Pink Bear's smiling face became even more smiling as a portal of swirling blue appeared in the ceiling. "It's Code Bear," she said softly. "Of course," Pink Bear said to herself, "she's the draughtsbear, decoding the draft of the universe - that's called playing draughts. It's a game and also not a game. Wow."

Goat entered the chamber with Dog. He took in the situation of Polar Knight at once and began to speak in his deepest captain voice - but strange words came out:

"Wrap him in afghans of purple and vair
to sleep by the warp drive core."

Then Goat shook his head fiercely to rid himself of the spreading fever and whispered to Dog "You see how contagious this is - we must isolate the Bard immediately and inform the crew of our situation."

Dog gently hustled the Bard out of sight while Goat told the crew to prepare for action. "Battle-stations!" he cried.

Pink Bear suddenly realized what Code Bear was trying to say - to draft is to pull in the fishnet, and it is also the fish within the net. She knew she could never explain this to most of the other Animals, but she was very happy. Then the portal filled with bubbles - a face began to emerge from the frothy cloud - and she saw: Violet! Violet Mouse Fairy from Summer Island! Violet herself had appeared as the Code Bear. Wow!

"Attention all hands," Goat said in a very serious voice. "We have completed our journey through the Council underworld of sewer lines and we have surfaced in the bathroom of our cherished Monsters, J. and E. But something has happened - a transformation of some kind, this is not the bathroom we have known before. We may have encountered some kind of Space-Time Anamoly (STA.)"

The Animals knew it was time to be very brave.

"Life signs?" Goat asked Dog, who was at the viewscreen of the periscope.

"Unknown," Dog responded. "I can't get a clear scan through all this steam and this uncanny fragrance, it reminds me, O, it reminds me of some unknown home, the smell of earth and rain, the smell of sea..."

Dog began to drift into reverie, which he NEVER does, and Goat immediately recognized the danger.

"Everyone put on your noseplugs right now!" Goat commanded and little Animals paws and fins throughout the submarine reached up above their seats and pressed the small overhead panels which released the emergency nose-plugs. They all put these on and breathed comfortably through their mouth, as instructed by Pinky in a soothing Hostess voice.

Pink Bear, who was heady-fragrance-immune, looked through the periscope and knew immediately that it was not an STA, but an SPA (Space Pig Asterisk) and said: "Why it's a spa! A night-sky-blue spa with starry brass fixtures."

"But whose spa is it, that is the question," Goat said sternly. "It wasn't here when we left on our underworld adventure."

"Well if we don't know whose it is," Pink Bear suggested, "let's just hold an auction for it, and then whoever wins it can invite us all to their spa!"

The Animals were all silent for a moment. Then they realized the wisdom of Pink Bear's plan, and began to put it into action right away.

Unavoidable Delay!

2010-04-22T04:00:00.001-06:00

Dear Theme Thursday Friends and Animals,
this is Pablo, Monster E's Monster Parrot. I am screeching for her attention and you'll have to check back tomorrow.

NOTE FROM PINKY: Monster Parrots don't mean to be rude. They just are! Hope to see you tomorrow.

Big Bed Land Goes to the Movies

2010-04-19T07:07:00.002-06:00

We here in Big Bed Land have noticed that there is a lot of discussion among Monsters and their blogs about movies they've seen, and the Animals wanted to join the bandwagon. Here are some of their favorite movies.

Cowering Inferno
An unexpected side effect of a new anti-aging wrinkle cream causes a group of menopausal women to lose their shame and trust their anger. Their adventures, both hilarious and poignant, cause governments to topple as they infiltrate the cosmetics industry. Fun for the whole family!

Of Mouse Fairies and Men
A fascinating documentary exploring the ways of Mouse Fairies and their history.

When Monster E. suggested that Grapes of Frivolity sounded like a good movie, Monster J. said that maybe she was thinking of the movie Grapes of Math. He declined to give plot summary (probably not wanting to spoil the suspense!) but we have a feeling it tells the ancient story of how numbers were first invented as mystical signs to describe the ecstatic experience of eating a grape.

Chairman Panda has not yet figured out how to download images of these movies for Platypuss-in-Boots. She makes the movies herself through shopping (she shops like an Animal!) the minds of people passing by Panda Air on Highway 95 - keeping her audience, of course, in mind. She herself would probably like to make more sophisticated movies, but she knows what the masses in BBL want, and bows to their whims. Such is the dilemma of popular culture!

See you at the movies!

Last Lunch on the Argonaut

2010-04-14T09:50:00.026-06:00

As you may recall from the last episode, the small Animal submarine called the Argonaut had picked up a coded message in the form of a tea towel. The Argonaut was making its approach to the storm drain on Illinois Street by way of the sewer main when Cultural Archivist Dog discovered that Captain Goat's charts were old - ancient in fact- and that storm drains no longer connected with the sewer system! Meanwhile, the tea towel was successfully decoded with the help of Lefty, Piggles, Intelligence Officer Bink, Cleopatra and her great understanding of perfume, and the mysterious, possibly French, Code Bear! Mais oui, c'est vrai! Communications Officer (aka Your Hostess Pinky) was tuning into Chanel No. 5 when we left our brave Animal crew...

As soon as Communications Officer Pinky tuned in, an eerie wailing song filled the little submarine. For a moment no one spoke - nothing like this had ever been heard in Big Bed Land- frightening, and yet fatally attractive. Bink was about to say how strange police sirens sounded when resonating down a storm drain and through the sewer pipes, almost like a giant pipe organ, when he suddenly felt an irresistable desire to leave the submarine. Others felt it too, and Polar Knight began shouting, "Everyone cover your ears! And tie me to the mast!"

He spoke with such urgency that the Animals obeyed instantly and covered their ears. In pantomime and with his ears covered, Bink pointed out that there was no mast on a submarine. Polar Knight indicated that the shaft of the periscope would do. The periscope was quivering in the waves of sound that flooded Polar Knight with a strange destructive ecstasy and they lashed the poet to it, holding the ropes in their teeth so they could keep their ears covered. Alas, the crew was not fitted out with ear-plugs as the wise old ancients were! Cleopatra was the only one who could listen to the Sirens singing without any difficulty. She listened intently, and never spoke of what she heard.

Goat, however, as captain, went to the little box reading: In Case of Emergency Break Glass and immediately put on the earmuffs that were inside the box. He did all he could to keep the submarine from smashing into what was once the connecting pipe to from the storm drain to the sewer main as the Sirens lashed the water into sound and fury!

Polar Bink, as an experienced poet, knew that Sirens were creatures of ecstasy - destructive through no real fault of their own. They didn't harm themselves in the ecstatic longing they engendered, and didn't really understand that sailors couldn't breathe in the atmosphere they created. Even if they had known, it wouldn't have made them stop. Wild longing hurt them no more than a flower is hurt when releasing fragrance. The Sirens were only mildly perplexed by the motionless bodies that gathered in their wake. Why do sailors want to play and then go motionless like that? they wondered briefly, not being, themselves, subject to death. They just shrugged and went on. They never stay in one place for long.

And this is exactly what happened - in a few moments (though it seemed far longer to the Animals) the Sirens moved on and the submarine was released from the pulsing waves that throbbed with a song of unearthly beauty. Goat thought this was due to his navigation, and Polar Knight let him continue in this belief. Polar Knight didn't care about glory, being a poet (of course, at that moment, forgetting about all the times he had cared intensely about glory) and having just had an experience the likes of which few poets ever really knew. Would he ever recover? Was he changed forever? These were questions that only the future could answer...

One problem he hadn't considered when the Animals had tied him up - how do you tell the crew they can uncover their ears when you are lashed to a periscope? He yelled and wriggled and no one noticed, they were still dashing from porthole to porthole. Finally Goat saw the poet's mouth moving and cautiously removed the earmuffs of command. The two Animals shared a moment of quiet triumph before approaching the other Animals with the news of victory.

The Animals were thrilled and also very hungry.

"What's for lunch?" they cried.

Goat thought hard for a moment. "Well, all we have left is emergency rations."

The Animals groaned. What they didn't know was that Goat always laid in a supply of everyone's absolutely most favorite food for starvation rations. He had decided that if you get to the point of using them, that's when you really need a boost. Since the Argonaut would be home in an hour, they might as well celebrate, he thought, and have starvation rations. He was sure that his own starvation lunchbox was packed with a complete picnic - veggieburger, potato salad, chips, pickles, and strawberry rhubarb pie.

Goat hid his own disappointment goatfully. There had been no mention of the Golden Eye-Patch at all. Well, he knew he didn't really deserve it. And he wouldn't let his disappointment spoil anybody's lunch. That's how a true captain acted. But he wasn't really sure he wanted a picnic anymore. Then he felt surrounded suddenly by the presence of the Code Bear herself! "When you come home," she whispered, "you will have all that you desire."

"Huh," Goat thought to himself in some disgust. "That's not French- I understood it perfectly and I don't speak French. She's not French after all, what a bunch of nonsense all that is, how can Animals believe in this kind of thing. I know that wasn't French - unless - but I thought the Universal Translator was on the blink - it can't be working..." And so Goat went to check out the Universal Translator, feeling like a true captain once again.

Rubato Kangaroo

2010-04-11T18:58:00.004-06:00

Hello folks! Monster J here - Monster E is having a very busy weekend doing things she is much better qualified to describe. Meanwhile, Platypuss seems to be very involved & most of the animals are in the midst of an epic voyage thru the Council, Idaho sewer system. You just never know what they will get up to.

For instance, when Monster E & I write music, the animals often insert themselves into song titles. Such was the case some years back when I wrote a song called "Rubato Kangaroo" in honor of Bink & Gretel, Bink's mum. We thought you might enjoy giving it a listen today!

Hope you enjoy it!

celebration

2010-04-04T16:40:00.002-06:00

The drawing is by my aunt, Jean Eberle, whose animals speak.

Pirate’s Gold

2010-03-31T08:49:00.018-06:00

“The yellow-gold of pirate’s gold
is the gleam in the tiger’s eye-
Only fearless dreams can unfold
the sun in a shipwrecked sky.”
From “Goat Dreams” by Polar Knight.

(If you're wondering why poetry is going down the toilet, please check out previous episodes in the Voyage of the Argonaut, a small submarine captained by Pirate Goat into the last frontier - Council Idaho's sewer system and Underworld.)

“But what IS pirate’s gold?” asked Pink Bear in her specially earnest voice. Usually when Pink Bear asks a question like this, the Animals quietly melt away as fast as they can. But, as a pirate, Goat felt it was a Goat’s responsibility to try and explain. So he stayed.

“Pirate's Gold can be Chocolate Coins, Pieces of Eight, Spanish Double Loons,” he began and then stopped. “Spanish Double Loons, of course!” he exclaimed! “HKatz’ quillsprit must be made from the quills of the Double Loon!”

“Double Loon?” Pink Bear asked in wonder, sensing that this was real treasure.

“Yes,” replied Goat. “The Double Loon is extremely rare, it is only to be found at the moment when a Loon pauses to gaze at the reflection of the Moon in the water. No one can measure the value of what happens at that moment! Priceless treasure!”

Goat ran off and only Piggles remained with Pink Bear. “If Eight is Infinity, each Piece of Eight would also be Infinity,” Pink Bear mused as Piggles looked on. "A very advanced form of currency for Monsters," Pink Bear commented in some surprise.

Meanwhile, Dog and Roxy were poring over the map of the sewer that had been discovered in Monster E's Map of the Ancient Near East. They had found the location of the Illinois Storm Drain by this means, but the sewer lines didn’t seem to actually go to that location. Dog had been called in by Roxy from his duties (guarding the Monsters in Big Bed Land) because Dog was familiar with Cultural Archives of all kinds. He dug and dug in the Archive of Council Monster City Council and found what he was looking for.

“What you have there," said Dog, "is an Ancient Map from Council in 1998 when the storm drains still dumped into the sewer. Well, the Council Monster City Council decided that this was putting too much water through the treatment lagoon (‘With cattails festooning its luxuriant edge/ while frog gondoliers sing their songs in the sedge,’ Polar Knight murmured) so they built a separate system for the storm drains."

“Remember?" Dog continued. That was when the Idaho Transportation Oligarchy decreed that Highway 95 would no longer pass through the town. The substructure couldn't be repaired! It was dangerous for school children! They refused to fix it anymore! And they spent millions of dollars designing a new route, doing environmental studies, the City developed new Planning and Zoning documents, an economic impact study was done, businesses closed and left town – and then the Oligarchy changed its mind, remember that? And decreed that it was no longer a problem that the Highway had no substructure and that logging and semi trucks go right past the school playground and have taken the doors off of cars parked in front of the market…”

“Someday,” Polar Knight said, with a dreamy look in his eyes, "Democracy will replace Oligarchy, someday.”

“OK,” Roxy said. “So the sewer no longer meets up with the storm drain on Illinois Street.”

At that moment the Argonaut crashed into something and all the Animals were thrown up into the air, coming down with loud thumps. Goat immediately righted goatself and ran to the monitor for the webcam that Roxy had installed to rotate around the submarine’s hull.

“A pirate’s treasure chest!” Goat announced. “That’s what we ran into. And there’s a fissure in the space time continuum. Rats. Hull breach in 15 minutes.”

Everyone looked at Polar Knight, and not in a very friendly way. Polar Knight explained that he did not invent the pirate chest, he only knew it would appear – the Voyage of the Argonaut is a very ancient story, he said, it has to happen this way.

The Animals advanced on him with a certain degree of urgency, pleading with him to reveal how to get out of this mess! Which threatened to leave them up Poop Creek to the eyeballs!

Then Piggles said, “Oh my, will you look at that. An Apparition. Why, it's the Code Bear herself!”

All the Animals ran to the side of the submarine where she floated, to gaze at the Apparition of Code Bear! As they stood in silence, gazing at this mystery, forgetting all about their possible deaths through sewer submersion, the Argonaut shifted slightly with the redistribution of their weight, and Goat (who was not interested in Apparitions) saw that the treasure chest was opening slightly and revealed –

“Perfume!” he cried out in disgust.

“Leave this to me,” Cleopatra said, and strode regally to the monitor. “The smell is just barely coming through.”
“How can you smell it through all that sewer interference?” Goat asked skeptically.
“Believe me, this is really good perfume. I know.” She inhaled deeply.

“Hull breach in 13 minutes 45 seconds,” said the enticing voice of the ship’s computer, sounding very much like Leon Redbone, Cleopatra’s main boyfriend at the moment. This gave her the confidence to trust her judgment!

“Chanel No. 5,” she announced. “I’m certain of it.”

“Quick,” Roxy said to Acting Communications Officer Pinky, “open a channel!”

“Opening channel number 5,” Pinky announced.

(To Be Continued…)

Passing Sunshine On

2010-03-29T10:56:00.014-06:00

Many thanks to Poetikat for sending this Sunshine Award to me. Poetikat has been very helpful in humanizing the blog-world for me, a new traveler in this realm – and I really enjoy her poetry and commentary – I’m very excited about her upcoming book of poetry. She suggested that recipients could pass on the award, and so I’d like to put the focus on HKatz and offer her the award today.

I’ve only recently started reading HKatz’ Sill of the World, and it keeps surprising me – with wonderful writing, intriguing perspectives, and a kind of philosophy of living that quietly emerges from it all – transcendently, although the writing is always down to earth, focused on the everyday where a small detail can open into mystery. A truly refreshing place to visit. I especially like the “Week in Seven Words” posts – where a word chosen from each lived day in the week structures a series of prose-poems that creates a portrait of the week – with connections running through them that can haunt you through the day. Check out Sill of the World. And thanks, HKatz for your exquisite writing and your point of view as well.

I'd like to thank HKatz personally for giving hints about where I could go with the adventure of the Animals in the Argonaut here at P-in-B. These adventures (dare I admit it?) are completely impromptu day by day and it's been great to get ideas this way...sort of like getting ideas from correspondence about a serialized work from the Olden Days of the 19th century when these occurred in installments. In fact, Goat has a question...

HKatz from Goat: Goat here. You are a good adventurer and your travels with us have made you esteemed among the crew. We want to design a bowsprit in your honor. So, do you have any ideas about it. What it should look like. Roxy will build it, so it will be a good one. Remember, my sword is at your service. Good-bye.

Signs of War

2010-03-24T19:25:00.015-06:00

We left our Animals last week having finished the first leg of their journey through the Council sewers in their small submarine, the Argonaut. They made their first landfall in the Ladies Room of the old Grange Hall, and the water had barely finished dripping from the glittering periscope- when they saw a tank outside the Grange with its turret gun pointed right at the courthouse across the street! Immediately they knew they must fight this threat to their Monsters’ community! Luckily the Argonaut had picked up a coded message while surfacing – the message was very important and encoded in a tea towel with an embroidered bear- unluckily, they had not yet deciphered this vital clue…

Thursday morning found the Animals back in the Argonaut, gathered around a receiver that they asked Roxy to make. (Roxy the Mouse is one of the Old Ones and can build anything, from a hot-air balloon for little pigs to an underwater roller-coaster.) The submarine’s entire communications system was down, having been damaged in the perilous ascent to the Ladies Room.

They were trying to get some information about the war that had landed this monstrous tank in the heart of Adams County, in order to determine who else was on their side, if anyone was left. The streets had looked strangely deserted. At last, Roxy touched two wires together, and the sound of static-strangled voices began to fill the air. (Note from Pinky Your Hostess: it is very important that you don’t just touch any old wires together when building receivers, and we suggest that you always let Roxy do this part.)

News was coming in: “The Animals who were discovered analyzing U.S. weapons systems during breakfast last Thursday are now believed to have links with organizations devoted to undermining the profits of U.S. corporations. With every threat to these profits, the hope of imposing the sacred American freedom to engage in mindless work so that the rich can get richer, dwindles further…”

The Animals raised their cries of protest.

“We weren’t analyzing that tank!” Marshmellow Bear shouted.
“And we don’t have any organization at all,” yelled Lefty.
“They call this the Age of Information – what a joke!” Beartram pounded his fist on the submarine wall.

The Young Ones felt strange suddenly – Bears had never shouted like this before, never ever. Drawing apart from each other, they started to sniffle - and no one seemed to notice.

Piggles emerged from her cabin and switched off the receiver. The Animals cried out in protest once more.

“Piggles, don’t do that! We have to listen! This is important!”
“Have you solved the code yet?” Piggles asked.
“What code?”
“On the Tea Towel, the code that will help the Argonaut save civilization.”
“Oh, that. We don’t have time for that! They’re saying really stupid things on the radio and we have to listen…”
The Animals suddenly noticed how ridiculous that sounded.

“Come on,” said Lefty, “we better go and help Bink decipher the Tea Towel.” They went running to the Intelligence Center in the nose of the submarine.
“And we,” Piggles said, taking the hands of the Young Ones, “had better go have a picnic.”

Bink was happy to see them, since he was having no luck with the code at all! He thought he had finally solved it, but now he had to admit he was mistaken. Platypuss will take you into his mind, for the thrilling, if seemingly futile, conclusion of his deductions. After he’d gone through all the obvious code possibilities with no success, he remembered a Dorothy Sayers mystery and the way that Harriet Vane and Lord Peter Wimsey had deciphered a coded letter…
Mind of Bink: What I must do is find the key to the code. Maybe the name of this object could be part of the code! Let’s see - Tea Towel, two Ts, 2 Ts in a tod? No, that goes nowhere. Two Ts, T squared, two squared is four – YES! – the cross-stitch! Of course! It all fits!
Platypuss: So Bink arranged the words on the tea towel in a grid of four by four, with no spaces between the letters.
Mind of Bink: This looks promising, let’s see, the double T code means cross out all double letters. The E is left dangling at the end. That’s probably the key to the code. Let’s see, E is the fifth letter of the alphabet, so E minus one is D…the fourth letter of the alphabet, of course, because T squared = 4. So, we just add a D to the beginning of the other lines – yes! D + RANE = DRANE, that looks promising…it’s not spelled right, though…oh no, none of this is coming out right…
Platypuss: When Bink realized that the message still didn’t make any sense, he began to feel very unhappy. With this kind of help, the Argonaut would be stuck in the Ladies Room at the Grange forever probably. They’d never get home to Big Bed Land, and civilization would crumble round their ears and it would be all his fault. What made him think that he could possibly be of any help? He was only an amateur philologist after all, and probably not even a very good one…
He felt very alone. So when he saw the Animals at the door, he was happy – at first – then he wondered how he could possibly tell them of his ignominious failure.
“Bink!” Lefty cried out in delight, “you solved the code!”
Bink looked at him blankly as he showed the other Animals.
“Look,” Lefty said, pointing to the words, “DOUN D IL DRANE – down the Illinois drain! Great work, Bink!”
The Animals and Bink still looked at him blankly.
“Remember I studied the map before we left? Illinois Street is right over that way! We’ve got to get to the storm drain on Illinois Street! That’s what the message is telling us!”
“But that’s not how you spell those words!” Bink managed to sputter.
“Well, the Code Bear is French, you know, and probably can’t spell English very well.”
“He’s French!?” Bink exclaimed.
“SHE’s French,” Lefty corrected. “After all, the tea towel used to be the shroud of Marat during the French Revolution. She’s a chef, as you can see from her hat. Her specialty is strawberry rhubarb pie.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Bink asked in disbelief.
“Because I talked to her,” Lefty said, “she’s right here in the hallway.”
Bink followed Lefty to the door and peered down the dim corridor– but the Code Bear had disappeared.
“If you hadn’t come in right when you did,” Bink told Lefty, “I would have erased the solution to the code!”
“Of course I came in at the right moment,” Lefty said breezily – but realized that if it hadn’t been for Piggles… he made a mental note to throw that receiver overboard at the first opportunity. He even suspected that the broadcast might have been made by the real enemy to trick them into a state of argumentative passivity! A fiendish ploy indeed! How could they have fallen for such a trick? He was still wondering when someone pulled him down the hatch just in time…the Argonaut was back on its way, and heading for Illinois Street.

Special Guest Star: Anna Lu

2010-03-22T09:06:00.005-06:00

We take a pause today from the Animal adventures in the Council underworld, to bring you a delightful poem by previous contributor, Anna Lucile Reck. You may remember Anna Lu from the adventures of Speedy - his disappearance, his wanderings, and his return home.

The Animals and Monsters of Big Bed Land admire this poem very much. Polar Knight, Big Bard of Big Bed Land, has this to say about it: "With its haunting contemplative voice, CATS ARE BEST describes the inner reality of beauty through the cat, who contains all others within her. It also explores the idea of what is best, that timeless question of Monsters. As a writer myself, I agree that even in cats, with their grace and skills, their playfulness, beauty and freedom, it is their longing to read that is truly inspiring. Unlike many Monsters, cats can probably read everything - the sky, the trees, the house. Poet Anna Lu has real insight into the world. Thanks for sending this to Platypuss-in-Boots!"

Love to Anna Lu too from all of us. We are looking forward to seeing you this summer!

And for those who are anxious about whether the Animals will ever decode the Tea Towel they encountered while traveling to the Grange Hall in the Argonaut - tune in on Thursday and you'll see how it was done!

CATS ARE BEST
by Anna Lucile Reck

Cats are best,
if you ask me.
Cats are better than the queer Monkey.

Cats see in the dark.
They run and play happily,
not in a park.

Cats are by far the best,
though they take all rest
into their beautiful body.

They love to eat,
and play, and roll,
right on their graceful feet.

If you see what I mean
as you probably should,
you will see that,
if they could,
they would read, read, read,
until they'd had their feed.

Cats are the best!

Some Good Advice From Pinky

2010-03-18T08:23:00.015-06:00

Note From Your Hostess Pinky: Remember - breakfast is the most important meal of the day!

Even if your schedule is very busy - even if you’re in the midst of battle like the Animals of Big Bed Land, who ran into the French Revolution as well as the Battle of Troy while voyaging the Council Idaho sewer system in the Argonaut, their small but sturdy submarine – don’t forget to eat breakfast.

If you’ve read the last three posts, you know that the crew aboard the Argonaut under the leadership of Pirate Goat and guidance of Piggles has just surfaced from the mysterious underworld of Council’s sewers in the Ladies Room of the old Grange Hall. They had no sooner gotten their bearings, when they saw the turret gun of a tank through the window!

Immediately they saw that turret gun was aimed right at the courthouse directly across that venerable route of passage, Highway 95. The sign in front of the tank reading “Peace Park” faces the other way, and they have assumed that the tank means war! And I can’t tell them about the sign because their communications system was damaged during the dangerous ascent to safe harbor in the Ladies Room!

If they could reach Monster J. they’d ask his advice – but he is off on his own quest in the land of Massachusetts and it would take days to get there without the assistance of Panda Air! They have decided not to trouble dear Monster E. with this matter, since she can’t even follow the action of battles in movies, much less real ones! But they have decided they must fight to protect the safety of their beloved Monsters’ community!

Pirate Goat is in the Argonaut’s dinghy, sharing breakfast with his newly appointed Intelligence Officer, Bink (whom you may know as Your Pocket Philologist.) During this troubled time of war, he has given up his arduous studies to offer his skills to decipher the coded message the Argonaut picked up while surfacing.

I sent them the breakfast basket myself, knowing they would need to build up their courage as well as their keen battle skills. I sent Goat a big mug of Captain Crunch because it makes him feel ferocious – and I knew that Bink would feel better with an extra dose of his favorite Alphabet Soup from a can. And a large plate of marshmallows. Please remember, these substances are only good for Animals like Goat and Bink and are not to be consumed by Monsters!

Trouble on the Argonaut

2010-03-15T15:01:00.012-06:00

Platypuss: On Thursday we left the Animals as they were traveling the sewers of Council in a small submarine called the Argonaut, captained by Pirate Goat. Having learned a thing or two about the French Revolution - and keeping their eyes peeled for the shroud of Marat - they surfaced in the old Grange Hall and saw, with dismay, the armoured tank and turret gun outside the window. If the Animals had paid more attention back in the days when Monster E. covered town meetings for the newspaper, they would have remembered the story of this tank. Shall I just point out in passing that paying attention can really pay off?

Pink Bear: So, like, if we see a tiny green Bolivian beetle laboring across a locket, we should watch the entire progress so that later when we are trying to map fractyls we’ll know how to do it?

Platypuss: That’s right, Pink Bear.

Pink Bear: Or if we see a spider starting a web, we should watch the whole process so that later on in the Hunt for the Wild Petunia we can weave nets from the hairs on the trees where the Targs have scratched their backs so we can catch the marshmell-o-wisps and read our comic books by their light?

Goat: Excuse me, Pink Bear, we’re in the middle of a battle here…

Pink Bear: By all means continue your dear battle, dear Goat. Anything I can do to help?

Goat: How about getting off this com-link and maybe go and save the world or something?

Platypuss: Go ahead and run along to your dear world, Pink Bear. (Fervent thanks from Goat here, who comments that that Pink Bear is REALLY pink, almost dangerously pink.) But as I was saying, if they had paid more attention when Monster E. got home from courthouse meetings and told Monster J. all the news that was stranger than fiction, they would have known that the tank had been proposed by a war vet as an ornament to the park near the old Grange, Rodeo and 4H grounds. He would spare no time and trouble, he told the county commissioners, in his quest to locate an Army surplus tank for this purpose – at no cost to the County whatsoever!

He came in regularly to report to the commissioners on his progress, which was slow. In fact, these reports just seemed to have become part of the normal life of the county courthouse. Monster E. could tell that the commissioners were assuming that he would never find his tank to put in the park by the old Grange Hall. But they didn’t want to offend this kindly war vet so they let him continue his quest. One day, however, he came in to tell them that the tank would be delivered within the week. He described the tank in great detail. The question no one ever asked was: do we WANT a tank in a children’s park where the young ones will clamber joyously across its venerable surface WAY above its concrete pad? It was too late to ask that question now. So the tank arrived and they renamed the park the "Peace Park."

Meanwhile, a battle was waging between the citizens of Adams County and the commissioners who had made arrangements with an architect (of the snake oil variety) to build a new courthouse, sheriff’s office – and a large private prison. The commissioners didn’t really bother to mention these negotiations to anyone, or suggest any reason why the town might WANT a large prison, and when people finally heard about it, they turned out in droves to storm the commissioners’ office.

It was during this time of unusual rancour and conflict that a posse of civilians made the decision to site the tank, in the old Grange park across the road from the projected building site, so that the gun would be aiming directly at the new courthouse. And there it has remained, as an eternal memorial to the populace of its anger toward its commissioners at that time.

Not knowing this, however, the Animals were horrified when they saw the huge armed monstrosity. If only they had seen this sign! They would have known that tanks mean peace! As it was, they were really very worried.

“Look,” Lefty said. “They’re going to blow up that building. That’s the county courthouse, sheriff’s department, and jail - the heart of law and order in our Monsters’ community!”

“You’re right,” Goat said. “We have no choice but to fight.”

“I’m with you,” Lefty said, “we must fight! What side are we on?”

“We protect civilization!”

“Hey, what kind of a pirate are you?” Lefty joked.

“The CAPTAIN kind,” Goat reminded him with a glare that made all the Animals go completely quiet.

“Excuse me,” said Pink Bear, “but if you’re going to wear costumes—“

Goat glared at her. “I’m sorry,” she corrected herself, “if you’re going to wear UNIFORMS, could you please make sure they’re really different colors or something? You know how I get confused if they are not CLEARLY different colors…”

“I thought you were going to save the world?” Goat growled.

“I already did. Now I’m kind of bored and just want some recreation. Do we have the home team advantage?”

“NO PINK BEARS ARE PERMITTED ON THIS SUBMARINE!” Goat roared. “Captain’s orders!”

Then the Animals knew that this fight must be really serious. They went back to the submarine feeling very subdued all of a sudden, and that's when they first saw the filthy shred of rag clinging to the tail of the submarine. All concern for the fate of Adams County or themselves was forgotten for the moment. Had they actually found it? Had they found Marat’s shroud just as the great bard Victor Hugo described it in his epic battle with history in the sewers of Paris? They were almost afraid to approach it, and came to a straggling halt.

Piggles strode out ahead of them all and plucked the grimy shred of fabric from the Argonaut’s tail and held it at arm’s length. “I will wash it,” she said. Their eyes followed her, and they were speechless at her daring.

When she returned from the submarine’s spacious and well-appointed laundry room, what she carried in her hands was not a shroud, but a clue from Council’s own history, a clue that they immediately realized they would have to decipher.

An Animal! A Bear! Hand-embroidered on a tea-towel! “What this is,” Piggles said, “is a coded message. Remember how the women of the French resistance wove codes into the patterns of their children’s mittens and sent them across enemy lines?” She started back toward her cabin, holding Pink Bear by the hand. "Is this part of the game?" Pink Bear was asking as they disappeared. The rest of the Animals gathered round the Code Bear, speechless.

"What we must do," Goat told them, filled with confidence again now that there was some action to take, "is crack this coded message. We will need an Intelligence Agency."

He nodded at Bink, and Bink stepped forward. "My not insignificant language skills are entirely at the service of Captain Goat. Long live Council! Long live the Argonaut! May Piggles reign forever!" he added in an unusual burst of enthusiasm, and all the Animals cheered.

(To Be Continued)

The Hat That Launched A Thousand Ships

2010-03-11T08:53:00.013-07:00

Platypuss here. What began as a simple expedition in a small submarine (the Argonaut) through the sewers of Council, inspired by Victor Hugo and led by Pirate Goat, has already become an epic. This kind of thing does happen pretty often to Goat, as you may have noticed. At the last minute, many more Animals joined the expedition than had initially signed up and quarters are cramped. If you want to know how the Animals came up with this idea, along with advice from well-meaning bloggers, scroll down to the previous post from the lost land of Monday for the details.

(Goat interrupts here:) Hey Platypuss. You say this kind of thing happens to me a lot, but every time is totally different! How could the unsuspected perils of Rock Slide Tobogganing have possibly prepared me for what is happening down here under the potholed streets and glorious alleys of Council! If it hadn’t been for help from Sandra Leigh and Johnny Jack Poetry Guitar Guy, I’d still be riding on the outside of the submarine! Sometimes plans for things like submarines are hard to read, you know. And if I knew what I was doing, it wouldn’t be an adventure, would it?

Platypuss continues: It’s hard to say exactly what happened – Sandra Leigh may be at the bottom of this – she’s the one who mentioned “stygian” while wishing the crew well in their voyage through the bowels of the earth. Goat insisted that the word was French, but after an argument, Bink looked it up – and there we all were suddenly, not in the Council sewer, but in the Council Underworld. A portal to the past where all myths meet - all unbeknownst to the citizens of the surface chatting in the Thrifty Shoppe on dollar-a-bag day next to the abandoned People’s Theatre and the abandoned Timberline Title building with the sleek US Bank looming over all like an artificial life form…

Wait a minute, Platypuss! Goat here. That was not an argument. It was a battle of wits, and a valiant one. Bink is a worthy opponent. And I will just mention that HKatz too played a big part in our current peril – mentioning the Golden Fleece made Polar Knight start thinking about the lost link between the Golden Fleece and the Golden Eyepatch awarded at the Annual Pirate Picnic, and how it might finally be found in the Council sewer. Not to mention Johnny Jack Poetry’s discussion with Bink on the Greek root of the word “nostalgia” which ended up with Poetikat and Monster E. becoming involved recently with us in the battle of Troy! No one knew we would find ourselves in the Underworld. Where all the ancient battles are fought simultaneously like a multi-plex Valhalla right under the People’s Theatre! Perhaps Jeffscape could help us out of this one, I thought, but alas! - all communications systems were down.

We knew we were in the sewer directly underneath the People’s Theatre because the sagging structure produces eerie groans only audible in the Underworld where they are amplified by the sewer pipes- to an unnerving degree, I will freely confess. This is where the strange perils of the Underworld began to show themselves. Cleopatra, the much-beloved Finger Giraffe who is visiting us from those young muses Zoey and Grace, suddenly appeared with a new body and a hat from the Ancient Past! All the Animals were suddenly wearing hats! Party hats, we wondered? But we soon realized that this was no party, and began to wonder if we would ever make it back to Big Bed Land from this Labyrinth of illusion.

Strangely, it was the Big Bard of Big Bed Land, Polar Knight, who gave us the first clue as to finding our way out of the dreaded Labyrinth. I am always surprised when the flag of Poetry flies during battle, but Pirates are scrupulously honest (when they remember to be) and I must say that this happens with some frequency.

Polar Knight thought back to Subby’s mention of Victor Hugo on Robert Frost’s Banjo, which first led to our noble but perhaps doomed expedition. Polar Knight with the glow of inspiration in his eyes suddenly declaimed: “The most surprising rencounter was at the entrance to the Grand Sewer…from one of these hinges hung a dirty and shapeless rag …Bruneseau held his lantern close to this rag and examined it…they made out a heraldic coronet and embroidered above these seven letters: LAVBESP…They recognized the fact, that what they had before their eyes was a morsel of the shroud of Marat!!”

“Of course,” cried Cleopatra, throwing her hat into the ring, “the Charlotte Corday hat!”

Now, I’m all for open discussion among the crew, but it seemed to me that any sense of purpose had been lost. “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

So it turns out that there was this really complicated battle called the French Revolution. And this woman, Charlotte Corday, carrying a copy of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives, assassinated Marat with a kitchen knife. (Hence the shroud.) Not long afterwards, the women in England who were found her action heroic started wearing a millinery confection known as the Charlotte Corday hat. Apparently they had no bumper stickers in these times. Sometimes history is just totally weird, I say to Bink. “You have no idea how weird,” Bink told me kindly, and began to tell me tales of hatpin murders.

Everyone rushed to the portholes. “Is that Charlotte’s kitchen knife?” someone shouted. “I think I see Helen of Troy’s lipstick container…” “Look - Lizzie Borden’s report card!” But suddenly our forays into the unexplored hook-ups of history came to a halt. After a dizzying ascent, we found ourselves in the harbor of the old Council Grange – we looked up past the toilet paper and the sink, to where a sign was printed on the open door: “Ladies,” it read.

“That means me,” said Cleopatra and she sashayed forth – in spite of the fact that I knew she could see, as we all did, the tank positioned ominously outside the window, its turret gun pointed right at us.

(Check back on Monday for the continuation of the Voyage of the Argonaut…and greetings to my old friend and Hugo/Louis L'Amour scholar, Dan Moors!)

Postcard to Monster J.

2010-03-08T14:22:00.018-07:00

Platypuss here. With Johnny Jack Poetry Guitar Guy on the road with his poetry and his guitar, the community of Big Bed Land feels keenly aware of his absence. So, after a bit of discussion the Animals decided to write some postcards to the Absent Bard, as he has been dubbed. Goat wanted to be the one to write so that none of the important things happening in BBL would be left out...

Greetings, fellow explorer. Goat here. I am impressed by what I’ve read of your adventures so far – a bold undertaking, to do battle in the wilderness of the Great Western Highways, with the loneliness and frozen fog, the specters of feedlots and abandoned bars of Nebraska, the wailing wind-sound of souls who have been lost in that land. It’s more dangerous even than the Targ Forest, and I’m very happy for you - happy that you have found a setting worthy of your quest. I have a feeling that when you get home you might be awarded the Golden Eye-Patch, one of the highest honors that can be awarded at the annual Pirate Picnic – let this spur you on.

Not much news here – the day before you left, you saw that one of my tobogganing expeditions had caused a rock slide on Highway 95. Well, this kept happening. Which is only logical, as I explained to Piggles, since this new form of tobogganing is called Rock Slide and the thrill of it is when the whole hillside starts to move. But even after I explained this several times, Piggles still thought it was time for me to do something else.

Well, what Piggles says, goes, as you know. So Lefty and I have developed a new plan. We got the idea from Victor Hugo who is a friend of Polar Knight’s. Victor Hugo is a writer too. He writes in French which seems like going to a great deal of needless trouble if you ask me. But he took on History itself in the Sewers of Paris, and what an epic! In honor of that glorious battle in Lay Mizzy-marbles (that’s French, by the way) we are going to explore the Council sewer in a small submarine. Remember when I went with Monster E. to a City Council meeting and they showed how a little camera moving through the sewer could help figure out what parts of the pipe to fix? Like the wooden pipes that were still there from when Monsters built the very first sewer in town? That’s what gave us the idea. You can actually learn a lot from town meetings sometimes.

As you may remember from Monster E’s thrilling description of this meeting, the Council sewer is gravity powered. So we won’t need to build a power source for the submarine. Unless we try to go uphill. Then we’ll be up Poop Creek without a paddle! There is always the chance that we will run out of air, of course, especially if we tell too many jokes like this and laugh too much. That wastes oxygen you know. In a submarine this is never wise. Today we finished painting the name on the submarine in really big fluorescent letters: “The Argonaut.” In this photo I am consulting with experts in propulsion that makes use of gravity and currents.

We depart at midnight. We are ready. I have made the necessary charts and familiarized myself with the navigational equipment. Lefty has loaded the supplies and will take care of their equitable and timely distribution. Polar Knight will take of the poetry. Duffy will monitor the camera from BBL so all the Animals can follow our course!

It is a curious coincidence that in my research I discovered that the overall map of the Council sewer resembles in every detail one of the ancient rivers that Monster E. is studying for her book. If time permits, we will attempt to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Sleep well, fellow traveler. May Piggles guide you – but only after you’ve had your fill of adventure!

Polar Knight Goes Green

2010-03-04T04:30:00.001-07:00

It's easy being green when you're reading Lament of the Fiddleheads by Kat Mortensen! Please scroll down for a reading of this delightful poem that will take you on a brief but merry jaunt from Christina Rosetti to Stevie Smith, with musings by the Big Bard of Big Bed Land, Polar Knight. Posted with Kat's kind permission.

Polar Knight’s Salon: Kat Mortensen’s "Lament of the Fiddleheads"

2010-03-01T06:51:00.018-07:00

There are days when I do nothing at all. When I let myself wander through the polar night, or just curl up along the satisfying curve of a frozen drift and feel the curve of every leaf, every petal, every plum that ever was. When a single snow-crystal makes a lens into eons of springtimes… splendorous, that’s the word.

It was this kind of day when a tundra mycelium that I had never noticed before started speaking to me. (Note from Bink: Mycelium is: the underground mass of tiny branching threads that produce mushrooms; it can be thousands of acres in size, or the size of a fairy ring of mushrooms.)

This particular polar fairy ring contained one mushroom I knew as "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti, whose name resounds in the tundra underground! Then I noticed that the interconnected underground threads of this mycelium had mushroomed also into "Childhood and Interruption" by Stevie Smith and Beatrix Potter’s Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle. And there in the circle stood Lament of the Fiddleheads by Kat Mortensen - winking at me in friendly amusement. (I just noticed the “muse” in “amusement”...)

Poetikat, as many bloggers know, adventures in the land of rhyme and meter, taking humor, philosophy, and dramatic narrative in her stride. All these meet intoxicatingly in "Lament of the Fiddleheads" - one of those mysterious elixirs whose recipe can never be codified but only experienced – as a forest complete in itself, a dirge with comic moments, questions that catch you by surprise with their sudden depth: “Who has us in peril? Who is our true foe?” These spring as naturally from the language of the poem as the comically human moments: “…our sharp-shooting rival – Asparagus!”

Probably everyone remembers some moment of awe in a forest – when it seemed to speak and you were filled with silence, when a gaze into branches or down the vista of a path or following the determined doings of a beetle became infused with more stories than you could put words to. Poetikat’s evocation of such a moment is remarkarble – splendorous!

When I first read Kat’s Lament of the Fiddlehead, it took me into a very particular landscape I associate with Christina’s "Goblin Market"; this made a great deal of sense as I thought more about it – Christina uses the kind of simplicity and strong meter often associated with children’s poetry to create a landscape that is as untamed as our own imaginations once were. It’s a landscape we might remember in fragments, but never completely.

“One had a cat's face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat's pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.”

The poem with its splendorously playful rhyme and meter (Christina wrote children’s verse too) tells a serious story of temptation and near-death, and the redemptive necessity of sisterly love.

What these poets do for me is reconnect the serious “play” of imagination known mostly by my childhood self with my other selves – the adult perspective that is humor and a different kind of knowledge of the world. Stevie Smith also uses the meter and rhyme of lullabyes, nursery rhymes, hymns, to embody descriptions of intense loss, betrayal, isolation – she often includes (a rather sharp-edged) humor in the mix as well:

“…And underneath the pram cover lies my brother Jake
He is not old enough yet to be properly awake
He is alone in his sleep; no arrangement they make
For him can touch him at all, he is alone,
For a little while yet, it is as if he had not been born
Rest in infancy, brother Jake; childhood and interruption come swiftly on.”

Beatrix Potter is usually thought of as a children’s author, though she herself considered her work as literature worthy of standing among the “great” – and I agree with her. The way she combines the imagination that can place meticulously dressed animals in human scenes acting out the most profound existential themes (and humor!) comes over me periodically with a kind of electric jolt. I think my favorite character of hers is the hedgehog version of John the Baptist – the washerwoman Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle who appears to a young girl and then vanishes as mysteriously. Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle collects the outer coverings of many animals (including Peter Rabbit and other characters in Potter’s stories) and washes them clean – the feet of Sally Henny-penny, the white fronts of Tom Titmouse, and the skins of the little lambs. When the girl marvels that the skins of lambs can be removed and washed and even replaced, each to its proper lamb, Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle tells her “Oh yes… they’re always marked at washing!”

It has been Polar Knight’s great pleasure to discover Kat Mortensen’s work and to pull Monster E. along into the poetic adventure that is reading! Kat has given us here at P-in-B new insight into poets long beloved – and on-going delight in reading Poetikat’s own evolving work. Kat has announced that she is putting a book together for publication and we are all looking forward to this with serious excitement. Thanks Kat!

Images:
Mushrooms and fiddlehead ferns by Beatrix Potter
Illustration for "Goblin Market" by D.G. Rossetti
Stevie Smith's illustration for "Childhood and Interruption"
Beatrix Potter's illustration, "Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Wink"

Ship in a Bottle

2010-02-25T07:37:00.013-07:00

Our ship is somewhat late today, having been delayed - storms, sea-monsters, pirates, the usual - but has finally made it to Theme Thursday.

The bottle-glass "M" in this picture, between the monster-ship and the little white lamb, is from an old homestead dump a short walk from home where John and I sometimes walk to see if frost heaves, run-off, or ground squirrels have turned up any new treasures.

The things we find aren't antique or remarkable in any particular way - except that they're time-travel machines, a way of taking a gentle sail into the past that was peopled by those who lived before us in this neighborhood. Below is a photo of a time-travel machine in situ.

For a number of years I was a reporter for the local newspaper and came

to be fascinated by the role of the newspaper in a rural town of 800 people - where the mayor is also the vet, and you can just go downtown across the street from the bar and the barber's into

his animal clinic and complain to him all you want if you think your water bill is too high, or have

an idea for putting a tank with a turret gun in the city park for kids to play on.

I became involved in a collaborative project to write a play based on Letters to the Editor from 1903 to the present, which was staged to the delight of the populace in the recently abandoned courthouse. This led to a collection of letters I put together that is being posted on Robert Frost's Banjo, John Jack Poetry's blog where a number of writers are graciously hosted and there's always blog-adventures afoot. Check it out! Here's the last paragraph of the introduction to the book:

"Sorting the Adams County newspaper material has been, for me, archeology of a very amateur kind. I have enjoyed it in the same way that I like to poke around in an old homestead dump near my house—where tin cans and broken bits of china spark my imagination, not because of their rarity or exoticism, but because of the opposite. Their everydayness and their proximity to where I live are what intrigue me. This book comes from my curiosity about what is near instead of what is far—from seeking for the mystery in what is close to home, the beauty and value of what is close at hand."

The bottle-glass "M" is part of this cigar-box shrine I put together to take with me before spending 4 years in Brazil and Bolivia. I brought a rock I found in the driveway when I was 11, a strange little owl-bottle I bought at a flea market when I was 13, fossilized bits of a giant ancient fish that used to swim in what is now the Idaho desert. The figure is St. Dymphna. Many things have been added - bits of pre-Incan pottery from Bolivia and fossilized claw from the giant ancient sloth that used to roam those hills and valleys. This is also where Pirate Goat's sword is kept when he isn't in battle!

One last photo: another bottle John and I found at the little homestead dump along with a piece of "Wonder Stone" I got from an extraordinary man named Red who has a roadside rock shop in his garage in North Idaho - an ex-logger, long retired, who now writes poetry dictated to him by trees. I think of him quite often.

Two Poor Little Lambs Lose Their Way- in Harmony!

2010-02-22T05:00:00.003-07:00

As promised, here's the interview with Johnny Jack and Lambchoppie about Women's Fantasy Night, and the fantasy Our Little Lamb brought to that amazing event. Without further ado...

Belated Valentine

2010-02-19T14:39:00.003-07:00

Because of the wave of response to fate of the OED, we decided to post this previously suppressed photo of what happened to the second volume...

We'd also like to assure you that no actual parts of speech, not even the humblest dangling participle (and we know how everybody feels about these hangers-on) were harmed during Polar Knight's abduction of Bink's literature class.

Note from Pinky, Your Hostess: Thanks so much to all you visitors!

For Whom the Bell Tintinabulates (or: Never Bring a Poet to a Literature Class)

2010-02-18T06:00:00.007-07:00

It all started the day Bink stumbled across Polar Knight (Great Big Bard of Big Bed Land) immersed in the Oxford English Dictionary. Bink took a look at this noble tome and became quite excited.

“Look,” he said, “you can see how writers express the shaping of the English language! It’s like drinking from the source of the sacred stream! It’s like being at the heart of the marshmellow factory itself!” After that airy flight of hyperbole, Bink had to lie down for a few moments, uncertain what had gotten into him.

“How about we teach a literature class together,” Bink suggested. “I think it’s time the Young Ones had their dose of greatness.”

“Yes, yes,” Polar Knight said absently. What Bink didn’t realize was that Polar Knight was not figuratively but LITERALLY immersed in this tome, the way only a Polar Poet can be, kicking her heels up and sending random bits of snow-white and ink-black page up toward the Northern Lights smiling down on her… this was one of the days that Polar Knight was absolutely sure that the Northern Lights were smiling just for her, right at her, and the infinite shapes of snowflakes filled her mind all at once, each a prism, each a door – “then glut your sorrow on the morning tundra,” she intoned both musically and ominously.

The OED was in pretty bad shape by the time class rolled around – it was gnawed here, burrowed into there, looking pretty ragged and tied back together with various bits of ribbon and lace, snarls of hair. Bink didn’t notice that Polar Knight, in one of that great Bard’s female guises (Mayhem Menopause) was in no condition to teach. She showed up to class with bits of the M section (she had fallen into an ecstatic dream at the phrase “mussel plum”) drifting from her fur when she shook herself for the sheer delightful weirdness of having a body.

The Little Ones, still a bit sleepy from their adventures in Water Ballet with Lambchoppie, had gathered for their class. They did love Bink’s classes, and that’s a fact. He made them laugh so much! No one could be as silly as Bink, they all thought privately, though they would never hurt the feelings of the other Animals by saying so. And Bink for his part felt that he was doing both the Young Ones and Art itself an enormous service, so things usually worked out well.

Bink had a long list of phrases with the word bell in them written up on the blackboard that he began to read in a churchy sort of voice:

"Oh bells, ring for the ringing!” he began and continued for some time. The Young Ones were getting restless and Polar Knight whispered: “With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes.” They gaped at her. No one ever spoke in class! “With fings on her ringers and tells on her boes,” she continued and they gaped at her, open-mouthed.

“Me rong bellen & vast the ropes drau,” Bink recited.

“Me Tarzan,” Polar Knight whispered mischievously into the ear of a Young One in front of him, and all at once the spell was broken, they began to giggle softly.

Bink droned on in spite of the whispers he heard behind him: “Alexander Bell…no petticoats at all…?”

Bink asked if they would share their thoughts with him rather than whispering.

“The Alexander Bell Curve is what made hoop skirts possible, freeing women by the thousands from their petticoats!” the ladybug cried out, very fast, in a high voice.

“Excellent,” said Bink, nodding sagely. “Now you are discovering the wonders of history. Let’s go back to Poe whose famous use of alliteration…”

All at once Polar Knight began to wriggle all over when Bink wasn’t looking and the Young Ones were silent, fatally fascinated by his wriggle, wriggle, wriggle. Even Lambchoppie couldn’t wriggle like this. Polar Knight explained that she was…. AN EEL. She taught them the dance and soon they were all wriggling and singing “The ululalulation of the eels, eels, eels, eels, the ululalulation of the eels.” They were getting quite good at it by the time Bink happened to wheel around and notice them.

“What are you doing?” Bink asked.

“I’ve just written a poem,” Polar Knight explained quickly. “It goes like this:

The belle dame of the ball took her clapper in hand
And the sedge withered palely across the land
And no birds sang”

To Bink’s shock the Young Ones started to sniffle and cry, then suddenly he was faced by a roomful of wailing Young Ones until Polar Knight drifted on the divine wave of her own sadness out of the room, followed by all the students in a high-pitched ecstasy of wailing and sorrow and desolation.

Bink was left alone

Piggles appeared in the doorway, shaking her head and carrying a jumprope. She began singing softly: “Elephant, patty-pan, sit-upon pie…”

Immediately Gretel took up the other end of the jumprope and Bink hopped out of her pocket to take a turn. He loved the one that went “elephant, patty-pan, sit-upon pie” and he sang as loudly as he could. Afterwards he had the distinct sense that the class had been a huge success and fell into a deep sleep while Piggles and Gretel took a walk together in the mysterious but shining silence that Kangaroos and Pigs can share with such contentment.

Lamb Cakes

2010-02-15T05:00:00.025-07:00

Monster E. was working on an act for Women’s Fantasy Night at the Alpine Playhouse when Our Lamb declared a desire to attend this time-honored and extraordinary event. “I’m going too,” was how she put it. “Because I have a fantasy I really want some help with. You will need a black cape with a hood and also a large muff.” Monster E. was rehearsing percussion for her part in the Big Bang as performed by Ancient Shadow Puppets- a kind of mystical science theatre- and she said, “That will be just lovely, my Darling Lamb,” but secretly she was already wondering if it really would be…

But went Lambchoppie did to Women's Fantasy Night, and with her went also Monster E. with drum kit, thunder machine, and muff. When Lambchoppie finally returned later that night to Big Bed Land, the Young Ones swarmed around her clamoring to hear the story of her adventures as the First Big Bed Land Animal Ever to Perform on a Monster Stage... But first, a note from Platypuss, who comments that the Animals are possibly not aware of the images that “Women’s Fantasy Night” might conjure up in the minds of Monsters – fleeting through those minds in frothy scraps of lingerie…among muscled and hairy strippers… a Tupperware party gone wild? So, by way of explanation:

Women's Fantasy Night began nearly a decade ago- the curious offspring of Ladies at a Ladies’ Tea Party discussing how to raise some money for the community playhouse. Many digressions took place, as often happens at Tea Parties where wine and chocolate and Ladies abound. Someone started singing “These Boots Were Made For Walking.” And afterwards someone else suddenly said,"How about an event where women can get up on the stage and sing or dance or act out their wildest dreams? How about having experienced improvisers there to help them? A Mistress of Ceremonies to keep things moving? Music, costumes, snacks…" Then someone said, "How about having only women in the audience as well as on stage?"

Since then, this event has become one of the Sacred Mysteries of Ancient Theatre, so photographs are not included in this post. However, we’ll get some glimpses of the show through the mind of Lambchoppie…

Some of the Younger Young Ones wanted to know why only Girl Monsters went to this show? Bink had to remind them that Monsters can’t switch genders, or just forget about their gender, the way Animals can– Monsters are often just stuck with one or the other. This gave those Young Ones something to think about, and they settled down, occasionally murmuring things like, “Weird,” or, “No wonder Monsters are so…”

Here’s Lambchoppie describing one of the first fantasies staged that night – a Big Dance Number by women who had always wanted to be in a Water Ballet. The Young Ones asked how the Monsters kept all the water from spilling out onto the audience? Lambchoppie explained that it was a special kind of Monster water, because you couldn’t see it and no one got wet. At this point Goat looked in and brandished his sword, saying: “That’s not really swimming. No respectable pirate would swim without real water. If that’s the kind of thing that happens at Women’s Fantasy Night it’s no wonder I have absolutely no interest at all in going.” The Young Ones hurled their high-pitched voices at Goat, saying only Young Ones were allowed at this meeting. Goat left, looking huffy but keenly aware that Goats had more important things to do anyway.

Here’s Lambchoppie describing how a Monster came on stage with a box and told a story about how when she was a child she had an illness and was only allowed to eat bread and water. The Young Ones became very excited again saying “Was she in a dungeon? Were there rats? And slimy green dripping down the walls?”Lambchoppie reminded them that they must listen carefully: "The Monster said only that she was ill - but of course she MAY have fallen ill in a dungeon." (How the Young Ones squealed with delight at that!)

Anyway, Lambchoppie continued, the Monster described her fantasies at the time of her terrible diet, how she dreamed of roasted chickens flying into her mouth, and of a cake with huge amounts of fluffy cream on top-- how she had wanted not only to eat the cake but to bury her whole face in it. "At forty," she told the audience, "it’s time to finally make this fantasy come true." The audience whistled and clapped and yelled as she took a cake and can of whipped cream from the box, piling up the white fluff from the can, higher and higher! The audience started a countdown! And she plunged her face into the cream as the ecstatic shouts of the audience merged into wild applause.

“Catharsis,” Bink (Kangaroo and Pocket Philologist) explained, “is believed to have been a crucial element of Ancient Sacred Theatre, though not well understood by contemporary philosophers…” but his explanation was drowned out by shrieks of protest from the Young Ones.

Lambchoppie said that her favorite act (besides of course her own)- was the Fan Dance. And she gave a demonstration for the Young Ones of this marvellous dance.

How beautiful she had been, this Fan Dancing Monster wearing only glitter and a few dancing coins on golden chains. Moving slowly like in the Water Ballet, but with huge fluffy white fan-wings in her hands…she smiled as if she shared a secret with us and we smiled back…

“It was true enchantment,” Lambchoppie said, “I can’t explain it, but she was so playful with those wings and so tender toward her tail - which I’ll tell you honestly had very little fluff to speak of- but when she danced I saw how lovely it was anyway. And now I'm going to kiss you all!" she said, advancing ominously toward a Young Pig in a bathing costume who squealed in delight. Then they all danced the Water Ballet together until they fell asleep. What a night it was!

Note from Pinky Your Hostess:Check in next week when Johnny Jack Poetry interviews Lambchoppie about her own performance on Fantasy Night…

Cosmic String Mirror Theory

2010-02-11T08:00:00.007-07:00

First, I’d like to say that it is simply not true that if an Animal walks up to a mirror without a Monster in the room, no reflection appears in the mirror. Much misinformation of this kind has been circulated through the centuries about Animals and their Ilk. (We are a much misunderstood species.)

In fact, the Animals of Big Bed Land no longer need an actual mirror in order to see their reflections. This was one of the unexpected benefits of Debra’s development of Cosmic String Theory – a body of theory that not even all Animals can grasp by mane or tail, and one that is almost completely obscure to Monsters.

Note from Bink: Please observe that “Debra” in this case is pronounced to rhyme with “Zebra.”

It all started the summer that Monster J. and E. would take an evening stroll from the Old House across the lawn and dirt pile to look at the New House as it was being built. Sometimes they’d take a few animals along to comment on this process. Since the Old House had no foundation, the Monsters were particularly interested in the beautiful concrete foundation of the New House, and had spoken of it together at length.

Many of the Animals were less impressed by the foundation. Some said it didn’t look like a house at all. Where could you hang the miraculous flying hammock, Panda Air? Where was the bed?

Debra had a different reaction. She looked at the string strung above the foundation on little wooden stakes and said: “So. Houses are made of string.”

Nothing would convince her otherwise, no matter how we tried to explain. Even when we took her out to show her the framing, she only said: “So. String turns into walls.”

This was years ago, and evolution of her Cosmic String Theory has long advanced beyond what mere Monsters can fathom. “Music is string,” she says. “See the bow? Horsehair. A kind of string. See the ukulele? String again.”

The discovery that string was simultaneously both music and the Universe led to a revolution of understanding in Big Bed Land. “Cosmic String is how the universe is made out of music-” Debra kindly tries to bring this down to a level we could understand– “the source of the Great Resonating Frequency that unites us all.” We try to look wise but non-committal at the same time and change the subject.

It turns out that by bending one small piece of string (about the length of a piece of string you’d carry in your pocket, Bink puts in here) you can make a space in space that will reflect you like a mirror – and reflect many other things that are you as well.

Goat's Farewell to Summer

2010-02-08T17:21:00.014-07:00

We may well come back to to revisit moments of Goat's adventures on Summer Island, but here is the final page of Goat's Official Log.

We feel a pang of nostalgia, which as Bink Your Pocket Philologist points out, comes from the Greek and has nothing to do with the haze of sentimentality with which Monsters of recent times have imbued it- but means simply "the pain of return."

The Animals all say: hooray for Goat's Log! -the first written Animal record known to Big Bed Land.

In Perfect Hominy

2010-02-04T05:00:00.021-07:00

As you may know, Animals don’t need words to communicate. A subtle language of sound and color, simple beyond our Monster imaginings, is their way - involving images layered with emotion – where cardinal sins come in feathered shades of red, and pools of sanguine darken as they dry, where carmines are deep as ermines are white, where a rose is a rows is a roes…

And that’s exactly where one encounters a major difficulty in translating a written language to a language that has no words, Bink points out. Rose and rows. Red and read. Those pesky homonyms. You can't explain them and you can't pretend they're not there.

Bink, Our Pocket Philologist, as a young lad in his mother’s pouch (dear, mysterious Gretel!) started trying to fathom the intricacies of Monster Language in relation to Animal Language. The complexities of Monster Language came to obsess him, though so much cruder than his mother-tongue. In fact, it is perhaps the crudeness itself that exerted its fatal fascination on his orderly mind. The siren song of chaos?

He sometimes brings his knowledge to Big Bed Land by teaching a seminar. Reactions to these have definitely been mixed in the past, but Bink feels it's important to keep trying. He began his latest seminar by writing this list of words on the blackboard:
Owed:Ode
Reed:Read
Need:Knead
Red:Read
Too:Two

Polar Knight (Great Big Bard of Big Bed Land) became excited right away. "I understand those, I really do," he said and right away he improvised the following poem:

"To reed an owed to a buoy aged too
You knead a buoy who can be red two."

"Excellent!" said Bink and explained to all and sundry that Buoy:Boy is an example of what poets call a "slant homonym."

Well, some Animals can read and some can’t – they only learn if they want to – but Lefty is the only one who can sometimes read and sometimes can’t. Bink’s class was on one of the days he couldn’t read. This presented something of a difficulty when talking about spelling, and Bink gave Lefty special attention. Here's an example of the Animal Socratic method:

"OK, Lefty, what do we call words that sound the same but are spelled differently?"
"Grits."
"What?"
"Hominy grits."
"Homonyms."
"Common hymns?"
"Homo-nyms"
"Homonious?"

Bink decided he had to put an end to what threatened to shortly become a complete takeover of the Socratic method. Luckily Bink is fast at thinking on Gretel's feet.

"What’s black and white and red all over?" he asked. Lefty adores riddles and jokes. Bink and the rest of class had the pleasure of watching Lefty twist this way and that, stand on his head, scrunch up his face, and remain completely silent while he tried to solve this riddle. At last he presented the solution:

"Chairman Panda in a spangled dream!"

(An ancient story of Big Bed Land relates how Chairman Panda invented the miraculous Panda Air flying hammock as well as the method for Animal Teleportation while dreaming among the newborn stars.)

Bink declared the seminar a success and the students announced there would be a picnic for all Animals in honor of Bink and Gretel! With Alphabet Soup, of course, Bink's favorite.

Thanks Johnny Jack!

2010-02-01T08:58:00.006-07:00

February is the shortest month, as we say in our household. Meaning that even if there's still snow on the ground and frost on the car, we have survived the perils of January: frozen fog, being housebound and abandoned by the sun for days at a time, cabin fever. One memorable January we brought home a $1 ping pong set from the store, including one ball, two rather small paddles, and a net that fell over when hit - nonetheless we became completely obsessed with playing ping pong on our kitchen table...that's January.

This winter, I made my own drop spindle from an old faucet handle and a scrap of dowel, and tried spinning silk fibers into thread. John re-arranged his sitting-room to accommodate a model train table and the budding universe that goes along with that - we had lovely and intricate discussions about what kind of landscape we wanted to create - very relaxing to sit in that room and dream of an abandoned salt mine and a herd of burros gone wild, where the borax mine would go and if we could involve a small traveling circus...as the snow fell and Pablo the parrot made little snoring sounds from his playroom...But it's always a challenging month. When we heard the first blackbirds a few days ago, I was amazed, as I always am by how early they come back and start singing and bring the promise of spring.

So it's a perfect time to focus on what makes happiness - especially when it's sorely needed! So here's my list of ten points of happiness:

*Johnny Jack publishing his book of poetry, The Days of Wine and Roses.
*Moon gazing with Hippo and Golden Bear from the porch.
*The adventure of discovering friends in blog-world and bringing the Animals along with me (or are they bringing me along?)
*The mystery of John, as this unfolds, veils itself, gleams in unexpected places, returns to the familiar, over and over.
*Drawing with Amanda Every Otter.
*The pleasure of having friends, old and new, help out in hard times.
*The advent of Rosie and the chinchilla room.
*Praying in my oratory and making things for it.
*Writing my new book, Magdala Red.
*Learning how to knit with my new friend Heather.

Felt Impressions

2010-01-28T05:00:00.014-07:00

I will have to confess that my tattoo was premeditated and there's no story of drunken mayhem to go along with it. Just another winter afternoon in 1991, Elyria, Ohio. The ice the snow the bare branches the deserted streets a loose piece of siding on a storefront downtown banging in a freezing wind. I'd had to leave Brazil unexpectedly because of new visa regulations, and the culture shock I felt was mayhem in itself. This might be why I don't have the impression that the tattoo process was painful - but it was definitely felt. The tattoo parlor (somewhat to my disappointment) made for a rather tame domestic scene, as homey and tranquil as the laundromat next door, business was slow...

My dear friend Margot who has made the drawings of Big Bed Land Animals on P-in-B, designed the tattoo for me-- it's her impression of my companion of 26 years now, Pablo, an Amazon parrot. She faxed her design - I had never seen a fax before and it was really somewhat disturbing. As were many things about that winter - if it hadn't been for Audrey who took me in to her house and heart out of the psychic and cultural storm I was feeling, it's hard to say how I would have gotten through it. I stayed with her, and she gave me a room to write in - need I say more?

Well, Bink, as he often does, came up to me with some questions about the tattoo as soon as I started thinking about it for Theme Thursday. Always questioning, is our Bink, kangaroo Animal and Pocket Philologist. The Animal Dictionary he's compiling reveals the profound differences between Animal and Monster language. In the process he often struggles with the Oxford English Dictionary - this is one reason his dictionary is pocket-sized for the convenience of Kangaroos and other Animals.

He's got all the Animals wondering about the taxonomy of the Pablo tattoo. Pablo is a Monster, but is the tattoo part Animal?

Yes, I respond, insofar as the Past is a kind of Animal. The same way that Time is a kind of Animal (which Monsters are always unsuccessfully trying to harness to their will, whereas in Big Bed Land it is allowed to wander in its purely wild state.) So it's a different kind of Animal from Rosie the Chinchilla who is part Animal and part furry Monster. And not like the fish on the coral reef dvd either, who are Animals but not three-dimensional, and not like the Animals in the Targ Forest which are insubstantial self-created spirits of Animals.

"It says here you can beat a tattoo?" he asks, and I can tell that he is worried.

Sometimes the best way to answer Bink is to give him more to think about. "Well, I said, tattoos are made on skin and drums have skin heads. But neither tattooes nor drums shave their heads." Bink scratches his own head rather sadly. "You know," he says, "some day you Monsters are going to get so tangled up in your own language that no one will be able to get you out."

"Except for the Great Big Bed Land Bard, Polar Knight," I say and he brightens up considerably.

"Of course!" Bink says. "Polar Knight could cut his way through the Gridiron Knot, if anyone can."

"Do you mean the Gordion Knot?" I ask Bink.

"Maybe," he hedges.

And Polar Knight- our hero!- comes to the rescue once again with a pome:

The Gridiron Knot
Is plumb full of tangles
And language it mangles and mars.
But left to itself
The universe spangles
and burns its words into stars.

Margot and the Sphinx

2010-01-25T14:45:00.012-07:00

The readers (dear friends!) of P-in-B enjoyed Margot's drawing of the Animals' swimming adventure so much that we found another of her Animal drawings in the Big Bed Land Archives to share. This describes one of a number of Ancient Animal Riddles that have come down to us in the present day...one that desert travelers were required to solve before continuing on their journeys...

Below are some pix of the Animals in Margot's drawing - some of whom you may already know. Like Piggles. Here is Chinabeary with her dear friend Bearly Bear at Margot's wedding, in company with our compatriot Elizabeth.

And here are Georgina and Debra (pronounced to rhyme with "Zebra") learning how to play the ukulele in Big Bed Land. Actually, these are a cool variation on the traditional uke design and are called Flukes! Monster J. is very patient with letting Animals and Monster E. try things out on his fascinating collection of stringed instruments. Debra is trying to figure out how these strings relate her (rather advanced) ideas on Cosmic String theory - but that will be another post!

Marshmellow Bread, Hunting Season

2010-01-21T06:00:00.001-07:00

Hunting Season can bring out the primal spirit in even the most confirmed city-dweller. In fact, the primal spirit can throb more wildly in urbanites than in country-dwellers. Men in bright camo driving fresh from their office jobs into the country, already feeling the thrill of their budding primality by exchanging their electric razors for rifles and their gas grills for campfires, cause as much fear among those watching them buy cases of beer at the grocery store as they do among the deer and elk.

These city hunters have been known to purchase marshmallows at the store as well (in a small town, grocery check-out people have a real window into the private lives of both neighbors and the city-hunters who buy supplies in town.) Speculation runs along the lines of S’Mores and boyhood memories-- because of the furtiveness accompanying the purchase of the marshmallows. Apparently these hunters feel that the primal spirit can proudly embrace Keystone Light, but not marshmallows.

This is perhaps because their primal spirits have not been honed by real country wilderness experiences. Like a 16-hour power failure in January when you set your camping stove up on the porch in a snowstorm to make coffee, having had to choose between using the scanty water for coffee or for flushing the toilet, and you eye your spouse warily, wondering which of you had said they would fill the emergency water-jugs…

The battles between humans can rage fiercer during hunting season than with their natural enemy the Fearsome Deer. Like a neighbor who set up a decoy deer near her house to catch an unwary hunter in the act of shooting out-of-bounds, or the contingent of angry citizens who stormed a county commissioners’ meeting with accusations that the dump-man was using county equipment to hang the carcass after he Got His Elk…

But that’s another story. When Platypuss saw the theme “Bread,” she immediately thought of the Marshmellow Bread that one band of hunters cleverly invented after their food supply ran out and they were up high, high in the mountains where the elusive Wild Petunia is known to bloom. This hunting expedition takes place every year, but has not been disclosed to the wider world until now.

Hunting season opens when the Wild Petunia first blooms in late January or February. The only way to know exactly when they are blooming is to know when the bears catch the first scent of this intoxicating fragrance that, alas, neither Man nor Monster can smell. In Big Bed Land, we know when they are blooming because the bears tell us.

Only bears go on this yearly expedition to hunt the Wild Petunia. Everyone else, including pigs and giraffes, stays home. Isabear always goes. Sukey always goes too because she is the only one who really knows the Targ Forest. To get to the Petunia Mountains, you must pass through this Forest, terrifying to those who do not understand the ways of targs – those mysterious creatures who do not mean to terrify, but their habit of appearing and disappearing while making their song which is somewhere between the whistle of a tea-kettle and the sob of a soul in torment has been known to disconcert the bravest Animal. Even Pirate Goat confesses to an inward trembling when thinking of this sound.

Boo Boo always goes too, because he is known to keep a level head in all circumstances. Otherwise, any Bear who decides that he or she can accept the peril and the glory of the Petunia Mountains simply puts on a baseball cap – and becomes thereby a member of the hunting expedition. Here's a snapshot of them resting in the glaciers above the Targ Forest.

Food supplies do sometimes run out. The first time this happened, the bears discovered that marshmallows grow wild on bushes low to the ground. They tell us that no one would ever guess, from the dried product offered in grocery stores, how delicious marshmallows are when plucked fresh from the bush. Or the gentle glow that budding marshmallows emit by the light of a campfire with no rations left. That is how, in fact, they discovered them. Led by hunger and this gentle but persistent light, they found food.

And they rejoiced – at least for the first few days. Then we’ll have to admit that they became extremely tired of marshmallows and no longer marveled at the glow. Their first attempt to alleviate the situation was Marshmellow Soup, in which the contrasting textures of smooth white marshmellow sauce and smoky bits of pit-roasted marshmellow create drama on the palate.

Marshmellow Bread, however, is perhaps their most inspired culinary experiment. Piggles actually provided the idea for this recipe by tucking a note under the last of the food rations. It read simply: “For Marshmellow Bread: find a hedgehog and politely offer the hedgehog a marshmellow. Choose a fresh marshmellow as large as possible, but still juicy from the budding stage.”

Even though the hunters were not yet suffering from lack of food, they were so curious about these instructions that they made the attempt. Everyone watched eagerly as the hedgehog delicately snuffed the marshmellow and then began to chew it with remarkable speed. Some expected the hedgehog to offer bread in return for this treat. Others thought the note was not from Piggles at all but from Lefty who was laughing himself off the edge of Big Bed Land imagining this scene…

But what happened was that the hedgehog spit out the pith of the marshmellow after extracting all the juice—and simply waddled onward. They looked at each other in dismay until they saw that Boo Boo was thinking. They waited. Finally Boo Boo began to speak:

Old Bones, he said, had just sent him a message. Old Bones lived for a while in Bolivia and remembered that in the mountains near Tarija, the farmers and herders made a powerful drink made from corn that had been chewed first. When the other bears continued to look at him blankly, he realized he would have to explain further.

Yeast, he explained both kindly and clearly, is made from the fermentation of the brewing process. Then the light began to dawn on the other Animals.

“If we brew a batch of marshmellow beer from this,” Boo Boo continued, holding up the chewed marshmellow, “we’ll have our marshmellow yeast! Then all we have to do is grind some marshmellow flour and we’ll have bread.” They gave three cheers for Piggles, and set to work with a will.

All the Hunting Bears, we notice, have kept a profound silence on the subject of what happened the night they brewed the marshmellow beer, as have the deer who joined them on that long night of starlight and campfirelight dancing on the snow. But a couple of days later they continued the hunt – with enough bread to last them through the journey.

The Zuzulalulation of the Bees

2010-01-19T06:26:00.020-07:00

Platypuss here. I'll tell you that I was a little worried yesterday when I made my heartfelt scan of the Animals in Big Bed Land and everything seemed out of focus. Strange, I thought. I listened closely and let myself become absorbed in Animal-Consciousness... and I heard the faintest murmuring, the sound that gently vibrates in a dormant hive, the zuzulalulation of the bees, bees, bees, bees, the zuzulalulation of the bees.

I realized that the Animals had gone into the quasi-dormant state they assume when they are pretending to be stuffed animals (this takes almost all of their energy) and that they were doing this because some Monsters were at the House tearing out drywall and other loud things. Even though the construction Monsters are friends of Monsters J. and E., the Animals felt it wise to adopt stuffed animal consciousness temporarily.

Well. One thing I never knew before was that while they do this, the Animals commune with the Bees. Bees are neither Animal nor Monster. They are Bees. Essentially mysterious. We have known them for a long time, but they appear only when they wish. Once when Monster J. and E. were driving on the highway passing a logging truck, the bees spoke in their ethereal yet troll-like and ominous voices: Please please please said the bees: PUT BACK THOSE TREES.

We tend to collect bees that we find in the Wilderness of Monster objects. Only free things live in the Wilderness - things you buy live in the Land of Things (we call that place Boise.) The pictures I've posted today are of some of these Wild Things.

The artwork below is by Annalu (the talented and lovely companion of Speedy) called "Bee Hula," part of a series of phrases invented under the laughing spell of the Bees (this is one of the hazards of communicating with them and we were both helpless with laughter at the time): Bee Good, Bee Mad, Bee Dog, Bee Hula.

Amanda Every Otter has revealed herself lately as keenly interested in drawing. The character of Bee Girl showed up one day and is on this sticker. She has also sketched out the characters of Bee Maiden and Bee Matron - from whom we expect to hear in the future.

After Goat Told the Animals About Swimming...

2010-01-15T16:01:00.015-07:00

After Goat told the Animals about swimming, some were very curious about the idea and had some thoughts about trying it out- even though Bearly Bear was not at all sure this was a good idea as far as her very dear friend Chinabeary was concerned. From our very dear friend Margot (hostess of Summer Island, Mouse Tulip our Beloved Queen, as well as artiste extraordinaire and exotique) we have this exquisite rendition of what happened that day...

THANKS MARGOT!!!
(I'd never have such good
adventures without you...)

Return of the Moon

2010-01-13T15:30:00.013-07:00

We continue with Goat's Log and get an extraordinary look at how Goat saw the performance of the Lament of the Ladybugs as compared with how the Monsters saw it! Who ever would have guessed at the rare and enchanting vision of Goat!

GOAT'S LOG

Goat At Night

2010-01-11T08:06:00.014-07:00

Here we are with the next installment of Goat's Log. Goat was the First Animal Ever to keep a written record of an adventure (and writing is not Goat's favorite thing to do, either, since Goat decided early on in life not to go on in school - after the first day, actually.) We really have our Summer Island friends, especially Iris, to thank for this remarkable development. Thank you Mouse Fairies! Thank you Iris! from all of us at Big Bed Land.

At Big Bed Land there is
a remarkable turtle who
casts stars all around. Goat
loves to sit in the light of
these stars and remember
Summer Island.

The Ladybug's Lament

2010-01-08T12:44:00.013-07:00

Big Bed Land tends to be a busy place in January, the month of frozen fog and snow, and most of the Animals who are not working on the Wedding Scrapbook have been drawn back into the summer eddies of Goat's Island Adventure. Did the ladybugs really cause the young Monsters to dress up as ladybugs and recite a poem? Polar Knight asks Willabear, who was there. Oh yes, said Willabear, that is exactly what happened. Lefty (who was also there) added: You never what ladybugs can make someone do. ESPECIALLY when the ladybugs are the invisible kind.

Polar Knight was quite interested in reading the poem, being unfamiliar with ladybug literature, especially invisible ladybug literature and thought you might be interested too. Bink points out that when reading this poem, it is traditional to pronounce "Ladybug" with the drawl of the Ancient West, that is to say: "Lay-ee-dee-boog." And you must imagine the sounds of distant yodeling by the ladybug girls: "Yo-de-lay-dee-bug!"

The Ladybug’s Lament
The ladybugs of Sugarbush
Will set you down and tell their tale
As the dragon flies and Jewel Weeds
And the lone loon lorns its wail

The woman they call Pioneer
Can wrassle even slimy slugs
She sweeps the floors and beats the rugs
And herds the fearsome Ladybugs

She rides between the mighty oaks
Her lasso in her hand
But she never ventures out without
Her brave mouse fairy band

Valiant Violet and Goldenrod
They also hunt the ladybug
They dry the meat for winter feed
And shred it fer terbaccer plug

Pioneer Woman leads the band
She battles the Bumble-Bugs hand to hand
She’s also called beloved Queen
Her two-lips is sweet, but her rifle’s mean

She beats the rugs and sweeps the floors
And tames the fiery bright S’mores
And when she’s hunting in the wood
The ladybugs say: “Not Good.”

She feeds those bugs on banana smush
That’s why they stay at Sugarbush
And leave their wings for fairy clothes
And NEVER fly into your nose

Her fairies feed on Ladybug willows
And when they’re tucked in bed so snug
Pioneer Woman comes to their pillows
To tell them of the ladybug

Of ladybug wiles, their changing spots
More dangerous than polka dots
She teaches those mousefairy mugs
To track the tricksy ladybugs

With their permanent smiles they raid the land
Over seas and over sand
With Pirate Goat to lead their band
They like to eat their spiders canned

The mouse fairies love to go skinny-dipping
As the waves go slipping slipping
Into sea and into sky
Only the Ladybugs know why

Grandmother Ladybug flies to the moon
And on the way she meets a loon
Bow and arrow in her hand
Soon the loon will dive for land

Grandmother Ladybug gets to the moon
And there she finds the spirit of the loon
Together they live in Cave Zak
And then they decide they will never go back

Return To Summer Island

2010-01-06T08:13:00.018-07:00

The editorial we, aka Platypuss-in-Boots, took Goat's fantasy of a Giant Goat abducting the bridal giraffe as an expression of feeling that perhaps the wedding stories had gone on long enough. So, the Animals formed a Wedding Book committee (this just means the Animals who want to work on the Wedding Book at any given moment) and we can get back to the thrilling tale of Goat's pirate adventures on Summer Island. As you may recall, Goat had just made history as the first Big Bed Land Animal to swim with the Monsters, and Goat thought that the mysterious and possibly sinister Ladybugs had disappeared (although Goat didn't seem to notice that they had found their way into Goat's Log...)

Pinky's Extraordinary Adventure in Etiquette

2010-01-04T08:49:00.010-07:00

The Wedding Gazebo continues to yield up its secrets! Today I discovered that Pinky had her own thrilling experience there. She had gone to sit there for a moment alone, still rather anxious about whether she had fulfilled her hostess duties adequately, and also rather sad. She came out of this reverie to find, beside her, a beautiful blue book. Letters in gold adorned the cover and she could just make them out by the unearthly light of the gazebo: “Emily Post’s Etiquette” were the words she found there. Also, a date from misty antiquity: 1955.

She opened the book to find a message from Emily herself! With her pink heart beating quickly she read: “With BEST wishes! Emily Post.”

She felt certain suddenly, that she would be able to achieve success as hostess of P-in-B, an honor she had never really felt she deserved. She continued to feel this happy certainty in herself even after reading Emily’s rules of wedding etiquette, many of which didn’t seem to apply to Big Bed Land at all. But that didn’t matter somehow. Pinky now sleeps with the signature of her patroness under her pillow and no longer has those terrible dreams about having put the place-cards for the Wedding Supper in the wrong place or having forgotten to set out the Wedding Guest Book so that everyone could sign it.

Here’s a passage that especially cheered her (she loves the image of Emily in a garden of language, pulling a word out by the roots):

“It is hard to say why the word “etiquette” is so inevitably considered merely a synonym of the word “correct,” as though it were no more than the fixed answer to a sum in arithmetic. In fact, it might be well to pull the word “correct” out by the roots and substitute “common sense.” In short, I wish that those whose minds are focused on precise obedience to every precept would instead ask themselves: “What is the purpose of this rule? Does it help to make life pleasanter? Does it make the social machinery run more smoothly? Does it add beauty? Is it essential to the code of good taste of to ethics?” If it serves any of these purposes, it is a rule to be cherished; but if it serves no helpful purpose, it is certainly not worth taking seriously.”

A fine approach to any rule, in my opinion!

Some points of wedding etiquette, Pinky realized (using her common sense now that she had been encouraged to do so) would serve no useful purpose in BBL, but were interesting nonetheless:

“DISPLAYING THE TROUSSEAU
Household linen, especially if very beautiful, is often displayed with the wedding presents, but in cities such as New York, Washington, or Boston, it has never been considered good taste to make a formal display of the bride’s personal trousseau. She may, of course, show intimate friends some of her things, but her trousseau is never spread out on exhibition.”

Goat’s P.S. to Wedding Etiquette: At a wedding, it is not advisable to take the form of a Giant Goat and sweep down to pluck the bride from the Wedding Gazebo and carry her up to the top of the nearest sky-scraper while hopefully she is screaming in a piercing manner. I asked Piggles, and she said it was not advisable, even as joke. Just so you know. But I'm really not so sure about etiquette having anything to do with common sense. If the Giant Goat was just meant as a JOKE...
Pinky to Goat: Here's what I'm thinking. What's common sense for a pirate might be different from what's common sense for a giraffe. If the bride were a pirate herself, this joke, I believe, would be perfectly appropriate. But then you'd better not complain when she unsheaths her sword and takes off one of Giant Goat's ears!
Goat to Pinky: Of course I wouldn't complain - such things are all in a day's work to a pirate. But I thank you for making it clear that pirates might have different rules of etiquette. I'm going to ask Bink to look for a manual.

What Will the Wedding Supper Be?

2010-01-01T06:00:00.004-07:00

Now that some of the Animals have decided to put together a scrapbook of the wedding, it's less of a blur to us all.

This snapshot really caught my eye - at the time of the wedding celebration, I never noticed that Lambchoppie and Miss Mousie had wandered off together. They spent quite a time arm in arm in the gazebo with Miss Mousie reminiscing about her own weddings.

"You've been married?" asked Lambchoppie in surprise.

"Oh yes, many times," Miss Mousie said, "in a sense."

"But - when - how - but -" Lambchoppie couldn't seem to formulate a sentence.

"Focus," Miss Mousie suggested, firmly but kindly.

"My question is...What do you mean?" Lambchoppie finally asked.

"I really can't waste time explaining that," Miss Mousie said in her most definite tone of voice.

Lambchoppie sighed and leaned back happily. "You know, that is such a good philophosy."

"Philosophy?"

"Yes," Lambchoppie agreed vigorously, "philophosy. Grown-ups can spend way too much time explaining things. Especially at school," she added rather sadly. "Just think of all that wasted time. Just gathering dust in all the schools of the Entire Universe. Horrible."

Miss Mousie got that look she has when she is going to tell you one of the Real Facts. "We compost it, actually," she said in a low thrilling voice. "Time is never wasted."

Lambchoppie heaved another happy sigh. "I just love you, Miss Mousie. Tell me a wedding story."

"I'll do better than that," Miss Mousie said. "I'll give you a wedding song. But we'll need the help of Johnny Jack Poetry for that..."

Their Songs Wake Singing Echoes in My Land

2009-12-30T13:36:00.012-07:00

Platypuss here again. It's probably just as well we don't have weddings very often in Big Bed Land. What a riot of images and emotions! It's not easy to sort through all the Animal Minds around here, but I started looking around... and guess who I found in the imagination of the Best Man? Christina Rosetti! Here's a photo of the lovely singing bird who showed up - so fortuitously! - on the day of the Christmas wedding.

And here's Best Man Piggles herself in the Wedding Gazebo. And this is the poem she chose as a wedding poem, called A Birthday by Christina Rosetti:

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love has come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

(Goat is forced to groan here because Monster E. is having sweet thoughts about Monster J. - weddings are hard on Goat!) Bink mentions that it makes sense to find Christina R. in the mind of Piggles, because she wrote a wonderful book of poetry for children (this is the kind of poetry that Animals often like best.) The book is called Sing-Song and it's a BBL favorite because of the philosophy that lies encoded in lines such as these:

When fishes set umbrellas up
If the rain-drops run,
Lizards will want their parasols
To shade them from the sun.

This drawing, according to BBL historians (whose sources are not found in Monster Dictionaries, Bink points out) depicts the moment when Christina Rosetti, with her Goblin Market sister, sketches out a vision of Big Bed Land and writes her immortal words:

Their songs wake singing echoes in my land.

The Wedding Guest's Tale

2009-12-28T08:53:00.020-07:00

Platypuss here. I'm in the process of shopping the minds of the BBL Animals and gathering stories of the wedding to post. It's a bit tricky because the Animals are fast asleep after this three-day festival and the images are all tumbled together, just like the Animals on the bed, merging into each other... One thing is clear, however. An unexpected guest arrived from the distant land of Annalu and Sally and Eric, bearing kumquats. And the Animals cried out: "Just what we were missing! A guest of honor! What's your name?"

"Speedy, of course," said Speedy.

"Welcome Speedy! Hooray!" said the Animals. Bink thought this was all somewhat disorganized and tried to make Speedy feel more comfortable by offering him a choice of wedding possibilities: "Would you like to make a speech now or tell a story later?" Bink asked.

"I would like to tell a story. I will tell it now," Speedy answered, and all the animals gathered around happy as could be because they could tell, just by looking at him, that this Speedy Animal had good stories to tell. Speedy looked right at Goat and said in the most fascinating way: "This is a story of-- Adventure." Like many of the most ancient and wonderful story-tellers, Speedy spoke in someone else's voice - in this case, the voice of Sally, Annalu's most favorite mother - so he could put himself in the story! A great number of Animal eyes were fixed on him and you could have heard a corsage drop in the Wedding Gazebo they were all so quiet, waiting for him to begin. And he began:
Speedy's European Adventure One day, Speedy was with Anna Lu at a shopping mall while she was having lunch and he got dropped by accident on the floor. Someone picked him up and threw him in the trash, and poor Anna Lu thought he was lost and gone forever. Her BEST toy! However, when I went to England about 6 months later to a conference in Sheffield, I checked into my hotel room and there in bed was Speedy! He had new ears and a new nose and smile, but otherwise, he was as I remembered him. Here was the story he told me, which I went home and told to Anna Lu: Speedy's garbage can was dumped into a dumpster that was dumped into a dump truck that was dumped onto a trash barge that sailed all the way around the world to Amsterdam. When it docked there, Speedy jumped off and hopped on a train to Germany. He was made in Germany, so he was very eager to go back and see his old home town of Bad Waldsee, where Anna's cousin Judith, who is a fashion designer and very good at sewing, lives.

Speedy rode on trains of many kinds with minor adventures too numerous to mention, until finally after several weeks, he did arrive at Bad Waldsee, only to get into a very bad situation with two nasty old cats, right in front of cousin Judith's house. Lucky for Speedy, Judith came out of her house on her way to work just in the nick of time and chased the mean old cats away, who were fighting over Speedy and about to tear him to shreds. Not much was left of Speedy when cousin Judith found him. He was torn up and most of his face was ruined or just missing. All the same, Judith recognized Speedy, since she had met him with Anna Lu many times in the past and had even mended one of his ears on a previous visit to California. Being the amazing talent that she was, Judith mended Speedy this time, and she let him stay with her as long as he wanted. He stayed for many months, very happy to be back in his native land, but eventually, he began to miss Anna Lu, so he decided to try to make his way back to California. His efforts, which, again, involved an elaborate series of adventures, landed him in the hotel in Sheffield, England, where by a miraculous coincidence he was reunited with me. You might think that the story ends quickly here, but that is not the case. Speedy, worried that Anna Lu would not want him back, given how very different his face now looked, refused to come home with me in my suitcase. He decided to stay in Sheffield until he knew for certain that Anna Lu still loved him, even in his altered form. So he asked me to take some pictures of him, with his new friend, David, at the train station, in his new bed at the hotel, etc. (I have several others as well). He told me to show them to Anna Lu when I got home and ask her if she wanted him to come back. If so, he promised that he would find a way to get home. Wanting to be helpful, I left him with a self-addressed Manila envelop, postage paid, so that he could mail himself directly, should he decide to return. When I got back from my trip, I showed Anna Lu the pictures and told her the story. She looked carefully at his new ears and nose, then said, yes, she definitely wanted him to come back. It was now more than 6 months since she'd seen him but she was still devoted to him. So, we wrote Speedy a letter and sent it to his Manchester hotel address, and about 10 days later, Speedy arrived back home in the mail. Anna Lu was overjoyed to see him. That was July 2005. Anna Lu sleeps with Speedy always to this day, although he no longer goes out shopping. He still attempts to go on other great adventures (you should hear about his island hopping efforts in Hawaii!), but so far the European escapade was his last.
"WHAT A STORY!" cried the Animals when Speedy was done, and they all picked up their hula hoops and began to dance with Annalu. Note from Pinky Your Hostess: You will be hearing more about Speedy and his amazing Monsters, Sally, Eric, and Annalu!

Love Always Hopes, Always Perserveres

2009-12-25T17:42:00.009-07:00

What a day it has been! While Monsters J. and E. were making the frosty midnight trek to sing carols and play music at the chapel on Mesa hill, with the waxing half-moon lalapaloosing at a rather giddy angle among the stars, and the snow spangles outdoing themselves in the Subaru headlights as we bounced, also giddily, over cattle grates and drifted snow-- the wedding gazebo was taking shape in the Imagination Collective of Big Bed Land.

Luckily for the Animals, the Monsters slept in the next morning so they could finish the gazebo in time for this evening's wedding and still open presents. This event tonight is likely to amaze us all, and we'll be telling you all about it in the days to come!

Mouse Fairies to the Rescue! Christmas Wedding Planned!

2009-12-23T07:11:00.015-07:00

The most thrilling package arrived in the mail yesterday.

Among other treasures, it contained Glamora’s wedding cape and bouquet, prepared by the cunning hands of Mouse Fairies and their Beloved Queen Margot! There has never been more beautiful wedding finery, Glamora’s bridesmaid G.W. Moose assures us.

Bridesmaids do not have to be girls in BBL, and G.W. Moose is among those whom Glamora has chosen to share that honor. (Although G.W. are the initials of George Washington, they stand for Gee Whillikers in the case of G.W. Moose.) Amanda Every Otter will be officiating, and Boo Boo will give the bride away.

Piggles is Best Man and will also lead the dancing (you should have seen her pirouetting along with the Nutcracker Ballet last night!)

The bridesmaids have carried the wedding finery safely out of view and are preserving a strict code of secrecy on these important matters. They advise us to turn our attention to other tasks, such as decorating the wedding gazebo or helping Pinky write out the announcement. We want to state once again how much Platypuss-in-Boots owes to the Mouse Fairies. In the words of Polar Knight:

This locomotive new creation
Whistling out of Platypuss station
Would be nothing but a dream
Without Mouse Fairy steam.

The box contained other treasures – such as photos from the Mouse Fairy archives, going all the way back to the turn of the millennium! You will be hearing more about the history of these fascinating creatures on P-in-B.

Bink decided that some new words should be invented in honor of the Christmas wedding! So here's your invitation, complete with Bink's own words, hand-crafted especially for this occasion:

You are emfrappingly invited to the nupcoming wedding party in Big Bed Land on Christmas two days hencelish. Lambanarfest greetings!

P.S. If you’d like to offer a gift, please bring along an Arctic Snow Goose to participate in the Honking Song that will wake all of Big Bed Land early Christmas morning!

(Very early, adds Little Pig Petunia who loves presents!)

How a Praying Mantis Became a Chinchilla

2009-12-21T06:44:00.025-07:00

Here's how the story goes in Big Bed Land: once upon a time there was a girl who moved to Indian Valley Idaho and woke up one morning to find that grasshoppers had devoured every leaf of every potato plant in her potato patch. Although this event in no way diminished her life-long loyalty to the Great State of ID or her growing love of the fascinating place that is Adams County Idaho, she did initiate the War on Garden Grasshoppers. First she talked to the elders of her community. Guinea hens, they told her. And keep a border of green mowed lawn around the edge of the garden. ("A moat!" cried Goat. "Excellent strategy.") Although many people in the county clamored every year for pesticides to be dropped from the sky, the elders shook their heads. "You kill 5,000 grasshoppers," they said, "and 10,000 come to the funeral." Wise words.

So came the guinea hens, little hatchlings that lived in a box in Monster J and E's bedroom. What a beautiful coop the beloved Monster J. made for the younguns! And what daring rescues he undertook when the little ones would get themselves in trouble in ways that only guinea hens could come up with... The crowning delight was to lie in the hammock and watch the adult guineas run around eating grasshoppers with lovely darting motions of their elegant necks. It was during this time that Monster E. developed an abiding affection for praying mantises, when she learned that they ate grasshoppers. She began to keep "pet" mantises on the porch. Although not confined in any way, these praying mantises would occupy the same place every year, and accept offerings of grasshoppers from the hands of Monster E. who knew how to hunt for the hoppers in their favorite haunts in the cool of the early morning when they were moving slowly. Here's a photo of one of her pets, which our dear friend Tom Trusky especially liked-- he enjoyed hearing detailed battle stories of the War on Garden Grasshoppers.

This year, when Monster E. thought that the porch mantises were gone with the frost after having left their egg cases as they always do, she walked out onto the porch one morning and there at her very feet was a praying mantis. Stunned with cold but not yet dead. What else could she do? She carried it into the house, found a jar, and saddled up the internet to find out how a person could feed and house a praying mantis through the winter.

This quest involved a 2-hour trip with Monster J. to the closest pet store that had crickets and meal worms. Crickets would be better than meal worms, but 2 hours is a long trip and Monster E. knew how to raise meal worms at home for her own supply because she had done this as a girl when she raised finches (she had pleaded for chickens but suburban customs frowned on this, spelling doom to hours of daydreaming over chicken magazines.) She explained to Monster J. how fun it was to raise meal worms, but perhaps did not notice his expression...?

Then came the transformational moment: she saw a plastic bag labeled Chinchilla Dust. Did they have chinchillas? she asked. She had never seen a chinchilla but had longed for one ever since her nephew Jeremy had described his chinchilla to her...

Yes, they had a chinchilla. An irresistably lovely chinchilla and Monster E's heart was instantly lost to this enigmatic creature. She looked at Monster J. (shall we say once again "beloved" Monster J?) who had in the past (wisely) raised objections to baby burros, pygmy goats, and indoor rabbits- though he did evince a passing weakness for a miniature horse needing a new home in the area- and he said: Yes! (Perhaps he had felt some nervousness about my sudden passion for keeping insects indoors and my occasional mention of reptiles?) "I like mammals," he commented. After researching the rather particular needs and ways of the chinchilla monster and deciding we really could keep one in our home, we made up our minds to call her Rosie.

Rosie lives in a room off Monster E's studio and a chickenwire gate can close off half the room for her and Monster J. to hang out with Rosie and learn Rosie's ways and talk peacefully together in the presence of her mysterious loveliness. When we went to pick Rosie up from the pet store, two Animal Ambassadors went with us. They had an intuition that Rosie might be something quite unique - a sort of hybrid between Animal and Monster. (Pocketnote from Bink: we are still working on this theory, and will inform you of our conclusions at a later date.)

Seven Things

2009-12-18T07:57:00.012-07:00

When Sandra Leigh sent us a Friendship Bouquet and asked us to write seven things about ourselves we were thrilled by the kindness of this gesture! But it took some time and the calling of an Animal council to decide how to approach this request. As you will probably pick up on if you haven’t already, things that might seem straightforward to Monsters can take some time to navigate as Big Bed Land Animals. In Big Bed Land, for instance, identity is somewhat fluid. So, when Animals address the phrase “Seven Things About You,” inevitably the question arises: Who Are You? (Pocketnote from Bink: please see Alice in Wonderland for an interesting discussion of this question.)

So, the Animals talked about who should speak for us. Should it be Platypuss, as our scribe? We are all rather curious about Platypuss, as a matter of fact and would like to know more about this mysterious creature. Or should it be Piggles, perhaps, who would give a beautiful but not entirely accurate picture of Animal nature? How about Boo Boo? Many Animals have learned to ask the question “What Would Boo Boo Do?” before making a decision they feel not totally good about if they happen to pay attention to that feeling and not ignore it for instance like Goat did when Goat had seven veggieburgers in a row during one of the first Big Bed Land picnics…

In the end, however, I, Monster E., was elected. So here goes.

1. Most life-changing events besides marriage to the exquisite Monster John Hayes: learning to build fence and cut down trees with a Marxist cowboy; spending four years in rural Brazil. (photo: trelissing cucumbers in my Brazilian garden.)

2. I wore an amber organdy dress for a piano recital as a young girl who endured the awful mortification of having to perform the detested Happy Farmer (perhaps a receptiveness to Marxism started that day with my deep suspicion of whether any farmer could be as mindlessly happy as this piece suggested?)

3. I stopped playing music almost entirely for 10 years – playing with John for a local production of Alice in Wonderland started me up again; I doubt I would ever have ended up playing music and starting to compose without John’s inspiration. I’ve always thought of myself as a writer rather than a musician. My favorite genre to write in: unpublished novels.

4. I did not play very much with Animals as a girl – it took a friend in my twenties to introduce me to the world of Animals (this was Margot, Beloved Queen and Pioneer Woman) and she had her work cut out for her – my first Animal, Chinabeary, spent several years in a closet (as she never tires of reminding me…)

5. For over 20 years I had only books by women authors in my library (I somewhat guiltily kept my collections of Dickens and Victor Hugo in my bedroom.)

6. My favorite musician is the jazz composer and pianist Mary Lou Williams.

7. I met my dear friend and writing collaborator Audrey when we were both waitressing at a college restaurant in Charlottesville, VA, and our first conversation was about nineteenth century women writers.

8. I often seem to have difficulty in following even the simplest rules...

(photo: home.)

Ssshh! The Monsters Are Sleeping!

2009-12-16T05:25:00.003-07:00

Platypuss here. The title should explain why I'm whispering, but here are some details. What a day the poor Monsters had yesterday! Not only was there a huge snowstorm so that the new part to their broken heat venting pipe could not be procured, talking with the home insurance agent about covering the damage that the broken heat pipe had caused revealed the fact that toxic fumes could present a serious danger if the pipe became dislodged again and we happened to want heat in freezing temperatures... Monsters can become quite agitated about things like this, and also worry about their Monster parrots and chinchillas to a degree that would seem absurd under less extreme conditions.

The storm continued and all students cancelled piano lessons. The vent pipe kept becoming dislodged by snow falling off the roof, and no duct tape in the house! A sling of baling twine finally remedied the situation, shortly before the power went out.

The Monsters handled this crisis moderately well, but were largely unaware of how much Animal help they had as they went through it all. For instance, who was it but Animals giving them the gentle yet unrelenting suggestion that it might be best to shovel early in the afternoon? And then just as a past-shoveling bath was beginning to induce the delightfully virtuous slumber that can come so easily after the first snow shoveling of winter, who tweaked them awake again by reminding them that the snow-storm was a text-book instance of the power-outage type of storm and WE WERE NOT PREPARED. So then the Monsters gathered candles and flashlights and filled water jugs and a thermos so as not to face the crowning disaster of a power-failure morning with no coffee. And who suggested they settle to dinner early (the first dinner at home in days!) so that all the quesadillas but one were cooked before the power finally did go out?

And it was also the Animals who entertained them during their candle-light dinner and cribbage game with silly songs and stories so that they laughed and laughed even though they were worried and tired! It was a restless night for all of us, and I'm heading back to BBL to suggest to the Monsters that they just keep sleeping as long as they can this morning. P.S. to Poetikat from Goat: We have much to say to you. We shall return.

Illustrations of Reality

2009-12-14T07:00:00.025-07:00

Today we go back at last to Pirate Goat’s Log of Summer Island. Goat’s Log is a record of Pirate Goat adventures on the Island in the St. Lawrence River and is one of many layers of reality that intermingle quite happily on that enchanted isle.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to dwell on those multiple realities for a moment. I have heard Monsters express confusion and some discomfort about those who treat Animals “as if they were real.” This perplexes many dwellers of Big Bed Land, who find it quite odd that Monsters treat money as if it were real. When money is just bits of paper and plastic! Furthermore, Monsters have invented a kind of Time that is also a Monster, and seems to control them. Bink, while hesitating to criticize the “Time is Money” reality of Monsters when they have clearly worked so very hard on it for centuries now, would just like to point out that sometimes less is more. Less work, more play, Bink ventures to suggest.

Here are several viewpoints of Summer Island. Mouse Fairy Goldenrod joined Goat in many of Goat's adventures and even won from Goat the rare honor of a written description of her beauty! (You will read this later.) Adele, the Monster self of Mouse Fairy Goldenrod, drew this map to the Island- called Hickory Island by Monsters- and she clearly stated that the map was how she saw Goat seeing the Island. (It's actually all quite simple if you don't think about it too hard.)

She noticed that Willabear, the only BBL Animal at the Island who did not eventually go on any of the river-swimming expeditions, had a very different point of view of the Island - mostly from the vantage point of the porch where he often sat, visiting with the Animals as they took sunbaths after swimming, and dreaming of his fair Glamora. How handsome love has made him! M. Adele drew both maps into Goat's Log, and we thank her for her generosity. Mouse Fairies are notoriously generous except on the occasions when they are not.

Here is another view of the Island from the hands of the remarkably talented Monster Margot. She herself dwells in the multi-faceted realities of being Mouse Fairy Tulip, our Beloved Queen, as well as Pioneer Woman, mother, artist, and now community social activist for the arts!

Talkback on Love

2009-12-11T07:00:00.015-07:00

Last night after A Love Story, Willabear joined his fair Glamora for a wonderful night of star-gazing and she gave him some red roses to match his fetching red tie...

Webfootnote from Platypuss: There has been some follow-up in Big Bed Land on yesterday’s post: A Love Story. I have been asked to clarify the fact that Goat isn’t against love, just thinks it’s not particularly important or interesting.

If you want to rescue a fair maiden you can do this from a sense of honor, Goat points out, without getting mushy about it. If a maiden turns out to be an expert swordmaiden, you can fight beside her without getting mushy, and even save her life (if that’s the best strategy given the circumstances) without falling in love.

Pocketnote from Bink: Honesty compels me to mention that Goat just made a terrible face when Platypuss said “love” that last time, and that Goat actually groans when there is kissing in the movies the Monsters watch.

From Goat: Well, if we’re being so honest, how about the time we were looking at listings on the satellite TV menu and you told us that the show White Chicks would be all about albino hatchlings right out of the egg and Chicklet was so excited, not to mention Tip Chick, and then the Terrible Disappointment?

From Bink: That satellite was full of misinformation and we’ve gotten rid of it now, haven’t we? Partly thanks to your complaints, I might add. It wasn’t my fault that there was no Animal Pirates channel, and while we’re on the subject, there are no Animal Pirates at all in the Monster Dictionary, have I mentioned that?

Piggles appears at this moment, not ominously, but silently glowing with a particularly fulsome pink shining she can have and the Animals fall silent for a few moments. Then there are apologies and kisses all around and the Animals get back to the tobogganing trip Goat has organized to celebrate the first sub-zero temperatures! We have noticed that these little conflicts often arise just before a trip, then they disperse. Queen Gretel is bringing the picnic in her pocket-hamper, and Bink gets to snack on the way!

Feel free to join if you'd like, or to visit with the stay-at-home animals (and the stay-at-home Monsters!) We will give you fair warning that tobogganing with a Pirate Goat and a Lefty Bear and the notorious Penguins is fairly riotous...

A Love Story

2009-12-09T07:39:00.007-07:00

Since we had already taken a break from Goat’s Log for festivities with Hyggehus, Pinky suggested that we tell a part of the Summer Island story that Goat is unlikely to mention except in passing. That is, the revelation that Willabear was in love. It came as a surprise to Monster E. too! (Only one other Animal of Big Bed Land has fallen in love, and that was when Mooselers admitted to a serious crush on Nell Shipman, the extraordinary writer/actress/film editor of the silent screen.)

Willabear was a relatively recent arrival in BBL when he went to Mouse Fairy Island this summer along with Lefty, Goat, and Chinaberry. Willabear has always been a dapper sort, and the Animals find this one of his fine qualities, along with his extremely relaxed attitude (which is genuine and not for show.) The combination of dapper and relaxed- even to the point of floppy!- is most unusual and piquant.

At the Island, Willabear pointed out that he needed a bath. Monster E. can be remiss in this area and often needs to be reminded. Since there is no running water at Summer Island, Violet Mouse Fairy helped fill a large basin with water from a hand pump in the kitchen for washing dishes that brings water up from the river. Violet has great and unusual insight into the Animal heart. When Willabear told her that he would like a fragrant shampoo with his bath, she began to guess the secret that he later revealed to her: that he was in love- and that his love lived in Big Bed Land.

As soon as she mentioned this, I realized at once who the Animal of his affections must be. “Glamora the Giraffe!” I said to myself, I said, “Self, it must be Glamora.” I had always suspected that great mystery dwelt behind those dramatic eyelashes of questionable authenticity. Through Willabear’s eyes, I perceived the complex beauty of her imagination and it felt like walking into a very three-dimensional snowflake—with planes of color on each crystal facet that kept turning into different landscapes: an unfurling frond of fern that became a paisley jungle of skirt drying on a chair next to a radiator clanking its way through the beat that chorus girls danced to when Forbidden Passion was a shade of lipstick red and frost furred the thin edge of the windowpane… Glamora was right to lower her lashes! A less capacious soul than Willabear’s could get completely lost in her eyes.

The Animals and Mouse Fairies are helping the happy couple plan a winter wedding. Glamora has already tried on her veil which came from the Council thrift shop. Who would have guessed that a place called the “Thrifty Shoppe” would be a place you could purchase a wedding veil for a giraffe? And on dollar-a-bag day too! What wonders life holds.

Historic Ambassadorial Tour

2009-12-07T08:10:00.003-07:00

Note from Pinky your hostess: What a flurry in Big Bed Land! Polar Knight and Grey Dog were unanimously selected to add a few words to the Opening Ceremonies. Polar Knight presents this poem, explaining that this kind of poetry is called occasional poetry, because you write it (occasionally) on very special occasions. Here it is, with Polar Knight's dedication:

Dedicated to Fair Monster Kat - honored among Animals

The happy day dawns, we pause not to wonder
what makes the sun sparkle, we don’t have to guess
why even the earth worms are dancing down under
the earth as she shakes out the folds of her dress-
It’s the Hyggehus Animals crossing the tundra
The Gang is arriving today, we say, yes!

Welcome Teddy the Plushy with dapper crochet
And Eli with baby who shepherds the way
Here’s to Manny the Manatee, Pablo the Blue,
Carl, Goody and Will, and hey Gordon, you too!
Welcome Sergeant, the vigilant, Richard the Bold,
Enigmatic Henri (whom we’d love to hold!)
Flo and Pisa, the Boxers, the Highland Cow (sweet!)
And Hobo the traveler- it’s a pleasure to meet!
Footix Official and Ewen the lamb:
Big hugs from Piggles, Big Bed Land grande dame.
With Shingles and Hush they’re all making their way
The Hyggehus Gang meets Big Bed Land today!

Postscript from Polar Knight: We salute you, Monster J., without whose wisdom, loving patience, encouragement, and thorough understanding of Big Bed Land, Platypuss-in-Boots would never have been (and neither would today’s slide show have been completed in time!)

And now for the opening ceremony: we eat!

A few words from Grey Dog: Here I am with Rosie Bear, who has joined me in many of my travels. I do love to travel and run! One day this green basket simply lifted off the exercise bicycle (where many of our trips begin) and could travel by itself, effortlessly. When traveling with Monsters by car, I love to go outside and run next to the car for long stretches. (This is safe for Animal Dogs, but not safe for Monster Dogs.) I must say I feel a kinship with Shaggy Dog Hobo who traveled from Texas.

During the tour you'll visit Panda Air, the hammock which under Chairman Panda's direction can take the Animals anywhere, including under water and into outer space. Chairman Panda is an extremely evolved Animal (possibly from another planet, some speculate) who introduced the Animals to a number of new technologies, including teleporting and shopping. Panda has the somewhat disconcerting ability to appear suddenly outside Big Bed Land. There have been Panda sightings on Television, in Chinese Restaurants, and even on billboards! A much loved and respected Animal. The music for the tour is called "Grey Dog's Holiday" and was composed by M. John Hayes. He performs on the baritone ukulele and Monster E. accompanies on the flute.

Ambassadors From Faraway Lands

2009-12-04T07:00:00.023-07:00

NOTE from YOUR HOSTESS PINKY: We take a break from Pirate Goat's Log today to bring you exciting news! We are expecting an ambassadorial visit from Monster K (alias Poetikat) and the animals who live with her and her husband at Hyggehus in Ontario, Canada. Here's the lovely introduction we received to these intriguing animals:

Clockwise, starting with the bear with the bowtie: Teddy (under all that crocheted goodness, is the original orange plushy bear circa 1961. He came all the way from England!), Richard Parker, the tiger (with the huge head) He was rescued from a boulevard where he was awaiting the big, bad garbage truck!, Manny, the Manatee, Pablo, the big bear (in his BLUE period!), Eli, the Shepherd-lamb (on his head and holding baby, Isaac), Carl, the cardinal, Goody and Will (the Lemur Mom and baby from the thrift store of a similar name), Gordon, the Ram (he never swears though), Sergeant, the German Shepherd, Flo (Florence) and Pisa (He leans) the Boxers, Hobo, the shaggy dog, who came all the way from Texas, Hennessy, the Highland Cow, Footix, the Official mascot of the World Cup in France, 1998, Shingles, the sloth with Ewen, the lamb, Henri, the French Arctic Hare, and Hush, the Basset.

We are all very excited about being transported to Big-Bed Land. As you can see, our bed is rather small, especially since Richard Parker takes up so much room and when K-Monster gets those hot flashy things, she moves into this bed and then there's no room at all. Plus, the fluffy red, cat-monster always comes with her!

We can't wait to go to Pirate Island and to see the ladybugs and meet everybody! Thanks for not minding us inviting ourselves. We don't get out much and we can hardly sit still with anticipation!

SECOND NOTE FROM YOUR HOSTESS: You can visit our dear friend Kat! The Big Bed Land animals are so excited about the visit (after official negotiations, scheduled for Monday, Monster Time (MT)) that they asked Polar Knight to write a verse commemorating this historic event! Platypuss will be working out the details of how to arrange a tour for the Hyggehus representatives, and of course I'll be busy too, especially planning the menu! I wonder what they like best to eat in Hyggehus and if they have similar etiquette to ours. Our rule of table manners is one of the first things we teach the young arrivals to Big Bed Land, since there is only one rule and animals tend to grasp it fairly quickly: Have As Much As You Want Of Whatever You Like. We can't wait until Monday! Hope to see you all there!

Greetings from our Platypuss,
Ambassadors from Hyggehus!
The animals from Big Bed Land
Extend a friendly furry hand
and thank fair Monster K, a sweetie,
for this first international treaty!
We hope ‘twill be the first of many
Where peace and poems don’t cost a penny.

NOTE FROM POLAR KNIGHT (Bard of Big Bed Land): “Poems” in Big Bed Land are pronounced “Pomes.” But I still have some doubts about that last line. And Poetikat, I found your tea-cup poem very beautiful and inspiring. Tea-cups, I feel, are sadly overlooked in the hallowed annals of verse. Thanks!

While I'm here, I would also like to thank the One whom Platypuss calls Audrey, Pinky calls Aunt, and I call Phoenix. "Madam! You are a phoenix. Your taste is refined, your Sentiments are noble, & your Virtues innumerable."

Aunt Phoenix Audrey sent the wonderful postcard I am showing you. A good motto for any bard. Best wishes to any other bards out there!

Next Goat Day

2009-12-02T07:00:00.017-07:00

Such an exciting entry in Goat's log of Summer Island adventures today- one of the high points of Goat's stay at Sugarbush. This Platypuss, herself, has never been swimming with the monsters, but Goat makes it sound like fun. I have a feeling, though, that while Goat thought the Ladybugs had disappeared they were actually reading Goat's log! Who knows what they will do with the information they found there? I don't think Goat even realizes what happened! The picture was taken by Mouse Fairy Tulip, our Beloved Queen Margot, of Jewel Weed (carrying Goat on her hat), Violet, and Goldenrod of the Mouse Fairy Band. They are setting off for one of the Island swimming spots...

Pocketnote from Bink: Goat is referring to "Zebra Mussels," an invasive species (from the Monster point of view) with extremely sharp-edged shells that have made walking barefoot in the water quite hazardous. This is why Monsters and Mouse Fairies alike (most Mouse Fairies, that is) now wear water-shoes for swimming and wading. But they still get cut quite often and Goat was impressed by how much blood the dreaded Zebras can make flow without even moving! By just waiting there, in deceptive stillness.

Another Goat Day

2009-11-30T07:00:00.018-07:00

Greetings from Big Bed Land! Well, we're back with the third installment of Goat's Log from the Summer Island adventure. You'll read more about the mysterious plague of ladybugs and Goat's first S'mores, some notes from Pinky, and a brief mention of Dog,Your Cultural Archivist.

Another Goat Day

Too much is happening to track the days. Today is S’more Day. I must remember to make this native delicacy for the others in Big Bed Land when I get back. It will be perfect for when the bears bring dried marshmallows back after the spring Petunia Hunt. Strange how only bears have seen marshmallows growing wild on the bush and only when the Wild Petunias are blooming. I have traveled the Seven Seas and never seen a single marshmallow bush. A pirate’s life is full of mysteries like this.

(A NOTE OF ENCOURAGEMENT from Pinky Your Hostess: Don’t worry if you don’t understand about all the many traditions of Big Bed Land. After all, these have been evolving since time immemorial! Dog, who spends quite a bit of time digging in the Cultural Archive, will explain the traditional spring hunt for the Wild Petunia later on.)

Some of the monsters know about the ladybugs, mostly the Mouse Fairy girls, it seems, along with Monster E. and her friend Margot. They speak of the wild herds of ladybugs and of dangers, fearsome yet vague. But they also laugh and call each other “Ladybug.” Monster E. and Margot are unusually silly since the men disappeared. They call each other Pioneer Woman, whatever that means, and it is confusing that they seem to share this name. I fear that the Ladybugs might be using some kind of mind control as a weapon.

Around the fire, as the S’more flames burned low, Pioneer Woman swung their lassoes in a lazy but skillful manner saying, “Git along, li’l ladybugs.” I looked up at the stars (noting their position exactly) and listened to the monster girls sing “Yodel-ay-dee-bug, yodel-ay-dee-bug” into the hot and leafy night sky. For one moment I lost my keen sense of cunning and unceasing watchfulness—contentment overtook me. Could the Ladybugs be affecting me as well? I must be careful in my planning. Very careful, and reveal nothing.

Night

No moon. I am writing this by candle light. I think the Ladybugs come from the Ancient West and I will not be hasty about their destruction. Tomorrow I am certain to discover more.

(ANOTHER NOTE FROM YOUR HOSTESS: I asked Goat if Goat would add some pictures of Summer Island to his log and Goat replied that this was not necessary as Goat already knew what the Island looked like. But I got approval for adding some pictures myself. This is one of my favorite views of the grassy island paths among the trees-- and a lucky sighting of Mouse Fairies! Here are Violet and Goldenrod walking together toward the waters that lap at the island's edges.)

Pirate Goat's Adventures Day One & Two

2009-11-27T07:00:00.011-07:00

Welcome back! We continue today with Pirate Goat’s log which records the island adventure shared by Mouse Fairies, animals, Pioneer Woman, and Sir Hickory this past summer. But first I thought I’d introduce Piggles, since she came up in Goat’s log last time (Where To Begin.) Piggles arrived at Big Bed Land many years ago during a very hard time in Monster E’s life, and luckily was already very old and very wise (although you might not guess it if you saw her dancing parts of the Nutcracker Ballet, as she loves to do at times.) In fact she is known as the Keeper of Faith and Reason and all animals recognize her loving rightness as easily as monsters recognize natural laws like gravity. They might try to evade her on occasion (Goat knows that if Goat gets too enthusiastic about having enemies walk the plank after a pitched battle at sea, Goat will eventually have to go and talk with Piggles) but none of the animals actually minds talking with Piggles; she always calms them down. I introduce her now because she is a quiet but very important part of life in Big Bed Land! And now, on with Goat’s Log!

Goat Day 1

It turns out the monsters here are OK. Some of them disappeared earlier today. Now I think I know why. This island is haunted by ladybugs, mostly invisible. A worthy foe.
Goat Day 2

The monsters here climb trees, this is useful. We swarmed up the rigging of a tall one. I explained to everyone that this highest place was called the Crows Nest. I saw to my satisfaction that a good supply of limes has been laid in against the Scurvy. Later we saw 4 moons and Jupiter. I might go there sometime. An explorer called Gallylayo (POCKETNOTE from BINK: actually spelled “Galileo”) was the first one to go to these moons—perhaps he is a distant cousin of mine. But before I do anything else I must make a strategy about the ladybugs.

Where To Begin?

2009-11-25T07:20:00.000-07:00

Even a professional hostess like Pinky gets nervous sometimes—she just feels she should hide her nervousness and make everyone else feel comfortable, that’s what makes hostesses different. But it’s a little silly for her to try this with me because I can always tell by a wrinkle just to the left of her trunk when she’s nervous. A Platypuss is, at heart, an observor. She has been asking me questions like: How will you ever tell the whole history of Big Bed Land, ancient and recent? How will you explain the Underwater Ones and the Bubble Dogs and Racoonio’s pet fish that lives in the television? How will anyone ever be able to keep us all straight if they didn’t grow up here? Should I make nametags for everybody?

Well, I tell her, I think Piggles would love for you to make a nametag especially if it had glitter and flowers on it, and Lefty would like a whole collection of different ones, especially with outlandish names never heard before in Big Bed Land (names like Laffidepot, or Gornsnook, Lefty adds here)—but otherwise, probably not. Pinky’s face got a little pinker at the suggestion of glitter and she scampers off like the graceful pink elephant hostess that she is.

By the time she gets done spelling Laffidepot, I will have started us off with Goat’s tale of adventure and we’ll be on our way. I should perhaps mention, since Goat does not, that this whole adventure takes place on an island in Canada in the St. Lawrence Seaway. Even Monster E. doesn’t really know exactly where that is but maybe you do, so I mention it. Bink finds it very interesting that the plane ticket Monster E. used to get there reads “Eberlems.” He thinks it curious that monsters flying have different names than their usual ones, but perhaps that is useful in some way. He has looked through the Monster Dictionary (which is often strangely inadequate) and finds no explanation of this mystery. Here is the first section of Goat’s Log.

GOAT'S LOG:

Most of the trip was boring. So I fell asleep in my sleeping cave, deep on Pirate Island. My wolverine slept beside me. They are robbers, feared and detested, and they make good pets. I woke up suddenly on a boat. My ears were blowing backwards in a pirate wind and I knew the real journey had begun. It was a monster boat, which no animal of Big Bed Land ever drove before. I drove it very fast (Piggles says that animals don't enslave ancient trees to run boats like monsters do - OK - but just this once it was great, it was loud and stinky and fast.) I knew I was going to have adventures. At landfall, there was a lot of hugging also kissing so I left.

Meet the Animals

2009-11-23T08:00:00.001-07:00

The truth is that if Platypuss hadn’t arrived in Big Bed Land, these communications with the outside world would not be taking place. Although the animals who began making their home with me many years ago have developed a sophisticated communications system among themselves, they never seemed to consider a dialogue with the general public as a possibility- or even as a hobby. But it’s turning out that Platypuss has an unusual approach to many things.

First of all, Platypuss is the only animal who arrived in Big Bed Land via the internet. That might be why she has the abilities that she does. (POCKETNOTE from BINK: You will no doubt notice that in Big Bed Land, some animals are called “she” at certain times and “he” at other times. This is probably too complex for anyone to understand fully. Suffice it to say that some animals are usually “she” but sometimes “he,” some are both pretty much equally “she” and “he,” some are always “he,” some are always “she,” and some are either sometimes or always or usually neither. There are many of these interesting difficulties in translating how animals talk—I am making a study of these in my Dictionary- the dictionary is called “Bink’s Dictionary” for this reason.)

The very first animal, Chinabeary, came from the land that was later discovered by the Mouse Fairies (you will be meeting these delightful and mysterious creatures on Platypuss-in-Boots as well.) The next generation came from a town in Bolivia called Tarija: Beatrice, Lucy, Old Bones and Roxy Mouse (who is very good at building things like underwater roller-coasters.) They’re called the Old Ones and were later joined by Sparky and Bear from Ancient Vermont. After that, there are so many animals that it’s better to keep track of them in any way you want—in many different ways rather than in just one way. You get more history that way if you like history, and if you don’t like history, you can ignore it altogether without missing anything.

The other animals came from stores in towns, gas stations, and an airport. Three are orphans. I mention this because the animals, after arriving in Big Bed Land, tend to forget where they came from. They get occasional flashes—Lefty will fall over laughing, suddenly, remembering a night of wild antics in Rite-Aid. Bit by bit, however, it becomes a mystery to them, the way our births become a mystery to us. That’s why I wanted to introduce them before handing the blog over to Platypuss. As scribe, he has the ability to type the words of the animals onto the internet. So from now on you’ll be hearing from Platypuss.

YOUR HOSTESS wants you to know that Platypuss will be posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday M.T. (Monster Time.) Check back in to hear the adventures of Goat and the plague of Lady Bugs! That’s what Platypuss has scheduled. Hope to see you here!

POCKETNOTE from BINK: It is seriously important that you achieve a clear understanding of the following: in Big Bed Land, all animals (loosely referred to as “stuffed animals” by some) are known as “animals.” Humans, cats, cows, dogs, etc. are all called “monsters.” It is a term of affection.