Our Itty Bitty. May 30, 1958 to November 25, 2017. May she rest in Peace.
Light a candle.Say a prayer.Dance in joy.No longer in earthly pain, Our Itty Bitty, born May 30, 1958 (Potato Planting Day) passed November 25, 2017.
Itty Bitty’s a Momma!
No one is surprised (except Itty Bitty) that she went to her greater reward before all of her older sisters and brother because she always thought doctors orders were just suggestions.
We fully expect Itty Bitty to meet us at the Pearly Gates with an escape plan and a ‘To Do’ list. Still your loving family, friends and caregivers thank you Itty Bitty because you taught us the joy ofcolouringoutside the lines.
The Hot Dog Cool Cat Momma and her Itty Bitty Baby Sister towards the end and there always is ‘The End.’
Like a small boat On the ocean Sending big waves Into motion Like how a single word Can make a heart open You had only one match But you made an explosion…
(Paraphrase Kurt Hugo Schneider, Benjamin Kheng)
Oh, and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again…. by Andrew Cedar, Justin Scott Franks, Charlie Otto Puth, Cameron Jibril Thomaz
Well, Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judgecame booting in to town all Ready-Set-Go to Investigate,Dominate,and Eradicate that SecretSocietyofScryers….. However, you know and I know, first she had to win over the hearts, minds and souls of those country folk and well, that’s not a simple chore…
The Inner chambers of the county courthouse. Fr: Morguefile By: Areille Jay
They are more judgemental than the Supreme Court of Canada and are not weighed down by past court rulings, a Leave to Appeal or rustic law books from whence Amalgamation became Confederation …. or something like that, don’t quote me.
Still those simple folk had a loosely knit list (written in that indelible ink, never shared with Misfit Molly…because…well, she was a misfit) of qualities and quantities it took to be worthy enough to do the job at hand. It would be applied fairly, squarely and without prejudice (although knowing human nature, you got to take that with a grain of salt).
So… when Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judge made her grand entrance in to the Courtroom, they were a bevy of bystanders, The Official Evaluation Committee …greeting her… no, not so much… more to well, evaluate:
Betting they never saw a farmer’s field before! Fr:Morguefile By:ManicMorFF
Did Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judge have a proper sombre attitude which reflected in her looks, clothes, and deportment? Looked that way, but those killer high heels…totally unnecessary and citified.Weren’t those things outlawed in some countries? She’d break her freaking neck first time she was called to Mr. Farmer-in-the-Dell’s pasture to inspect his dead sheep that were surely poisoned by some unknown, nefarious troublemaker who should be prosecuted to the full degree and severity that the law decreed. Those sheep were like his family Farmer-in-the-Dell said, with a catch in his voice.… and if justice could not be served, well at least commiseration was free.
What kind of car was Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judge driving? Most important that it was a North American manufactured. After all, many the country folks had worked their heart out for the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA…got that Mr. Trump?), had pensions from those gold mines and did not want any apple cart upset and their benefits yanked.
How did Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judge project herself to the Welcoming Committee? (Comprised of, but not limited to: the Mayor, a Counsellor, some Big Shot Executives from the local Manufacturers, The Chief of Farmer Associations, the Police Department and the Volunteer Fire Department, the Newspaper Editor and of course, High Ranking Church Officials… a lot of names to remember …should we test her later?)
Now you must understand there was some heavy-duty qualification to becoming a member of the Evaluation Committee:
You had to be wise as Solomon.
No Members of your Clan could have been part of the SecretSocietyofScryers as note Molly Misfit’s Never ending Journals and Tales.
But most importantly:
How to get on the Evaluation Committee!
You must have been born in that county as well as your grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great- grandfather… etcetera, etcetera… preference given to those who had bragging rights for at least seven generations,both sides of the family. Your kids could be accepted to Harvard easier than making the Evaluation Committee.
And so it came to pass, without an interview, without poor Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judge being in any way informed, a discussion was held with varying opinions and judgement rendered, exclusive of anyone having to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help me God.
It was soon to be seen that first an impasse, then an insurrection was in the making. That is why Miss–Here–Comes–the–Judge stood on the Court House Steps and declared (I swear):
See you in court!
All you Country Folk better listen up to me…Cause I am the judge, as you can plainly see…I want a big, round table now I’m here…I won’t sit down, if it is square…I’m gonna lay down the law… you better not budge…I can lay down the law …CuzHere–Comes–the–Judge. (Paraphrase Pigmeat Markham)
What? What did she just say? Was that the new fangled rap their kids listened to?
Word of CautionMiss–Here–Comes–the–Judge: We will judge you no better or no worse than you judge us and our kin. So…
A long time ago…when the earth was green and there were more kinda’ animals than you’ve ever seen…Momma told me a story…part fact, part fiction and maybe, just maybe, part fibbing.
The-Man-Behind-the-Moon in his humble Third Concession home. Fr: Morguefile By: Jober788
It seems when Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows were playing in the forest one day, they met up with an old man, wearing an indescribable plaid shirt, flood pants held in place with ratty old suspenders, a bulging gunny sack slung over his back.He did not look left or right but trudged forward, a stoop in his back from the weight he was hoisting.
Now Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows recognized everyone in Seven Counties so they raced home to ask their Mama (who we’ll refer to as Grandmama) whoever could it be. Grandmama explained it was The Hermitwho lived way back on the Third Concession, who only came out once a year in the summer to get supplies like sugar, flower, tea and coffee…other than that The Hermitlived off the land, fished from the streams, hunted for meat…like wow…people actually still did that?
Just their luck, their Papa (who we’ll refer to as Grandpapa) walked in as Grandmama was telling Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth….that is when the Secret was revealed…time those girls learned so they could pass it on to their kids and so on and so on… till death do us part.
Grandpapa explained, yes, you saw The Hermit….but…he is also The-Man-Behind-the-Moon. It is his job to take a pitchfork, a mega-long, long pitch forkand put the moon up in the sky every night and take it down every morning…and The-Man-Behind-the-Moonwas eternal, not like Dracula drinking helpless victim’s blood, but being kept alive all these years by moon beams (not moonshine, moonbeams). No death and resurrection for The-Man-Behind-the-Moon…He was, He Is and Ever Will Be!
Sweet Baby Jesus
Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows looked at each other, then Grandmama, then Grandpapa. By now you know, Country Folk are Believers…they Believe in God Almighty,Sweet Baby Jesus,Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Wee Fairies and Gnomes in their garden… and in no particular order. Yeah, Country Folk Believe in everything….well, accept Donald Trump. Only Right Wing RepublicansBelieve in Trump… sometimes, most of the times.
Many a season has come and gone. Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows have had children that had children and they still have not heard of the death of The Hermit, AKA (also known as) The-Man-Behind-the-Moon and in small towns, well, they have match box coffins and funerals for even the country mice…..give them a proper send off…which leads them to Believe (there’s that word again), Grandpapa was maybe on to something…
Grandmama (in the middle) with her World Class Poker Face. Fr:Morguefile By: Clarita
Not like Grandmama would give him up…she was no Conspiracy Theoristbut she sure had theBest.Everstraight face of a World-Class Poker Player.
It’s something about a dream…a Miracle or a Curse…whatever do they mean?
Are we the only ones that feel this way????
Should you worry if the dream is doom and gloom or can you apply that ‘dreams go by opposites’ which works well for a dream where everything goes wrong…you encounter obstacle after obstacle… but what about those happy dreams…does it mean you’re doomed and Karma is going to get ya???
Goes without saying, Momma and Wonder Boy will have a perfectly normal day and then, out of the blue, bold as brass, RIP Daddy parachutes in to their dreams, then sky-rockets out,without leaving a clue about whether it is just:
A friendly visit, hi, how are you, I’m fine, just fine (like he always professed on the Earth plane)
A message of good tidings to come
A warning of catastrophe ahead
Don’t worry be happy…I-got-your-back
The night cast in moonlight.
One night Momma was woken from her sleep by a type of movement she could hear but not see. In a state of semi consciousness she moved out of her room and noticed the television flickering in the living room. Wonder Boy was sitting on the couch, one eye glued to his tablet, the other looking at the TV screen…a very usual occurrence…except RIP Daddy was sitting in his easy chair, the recliner, eyes glued to the television screen, his face as serious as a judge.
Momma whispered and motioned, ‘Wonder Boy, look at RIP Daddy, sitting in his chair’…but the words were barely spoken and RIP Daddy was Gone.Baby.Gone., evaporating before her very eyes. To Momma the dream was so real, the next day she asked Wonder Boy had it really happened… uh, that would be no Momma…it was all in your head.
Why was RIP Daddy’s face so long and serious…what else could befall them in a world of catastrophes? Who knew? Better to cross your fingers and have faith that it was just the family reuniting again, by powers beyond our comprehension,even for a few seconds.
Momma & Wonder Boy long ago and far away.
Momma is not alone, trying to analyse the complexity of dreams that include RIP Daddy. Wonder Boy gets regular visitations which confound him (and, being so logical, he is not an easily confounded type). The most recent dream Wonder Boy was beset by obstacles…his phone was hacked…which was leading him to breakdown point. Wonder Boy went to the kitchen for breakfast. Momma was using the micro wave, RIP Daddy had the toaster oven so all Wonder Boy could do was make toast… the toaster caught on fire, spreading quickly to a basket on the table.
Always the Hero, RIP Daddy grabbed the burning basket, ran outside and through it in the snow bank. Wonder Boy woke up, so confused and spent from dream that it took a while to drift back to sleep…but when he did, there was RIP Daddy, above his head, to his left in a perfectly clear bubble, young, healthy and tanned, smiling beatifically at him.
So please, for the Love of God,we implore you…what does it mean?Is RIP Daddy not really resting-in-peace but worrying that his family on earth still need him to survive. Or is RIP Daddy telling Wonder Boy and Momma, ‘I am there for you…yesterday, today, forever’ but for now we’ll ….
Fairies ♥ summer nights!
Sleep with one eye open…Gripping our pillows tight…Exit: light…Enter: night…Take ourhands… We’re off to NeverNever Land … (Paraphrase Metallica).
A firestorm. From Morguefile.com IMG_3598ed.jpgBy Dzz
Remember Misfit Molly? She surely had no clue the firestorm she would ignite when she listed the Judge as a member in good standing in the SecretSocietyofScryers.
To be or not to be(as Shakespeare would say) a Judge in the country…. Let me tell you, mayGodhave mercy on his (her) very Soul. You don’t only have all the criminal cases from the town where the courthouse resides, but all the villages that are in a hundred mile or so radius….so you don’t need to look for trouble…because, well, trouble finds you….
Now all of these towns jockey and compete for any industry or shopping center, the local high schools try to decimate each other on the basketball court, the football field, the hockey rink…all out war, all the time…but when it came to the Ivy League educated Judge, every member on the county were on the same side…any Judge that sent someone’s First Cousin Twice Remove to prison on a trumped-up charge was a dirty judge.
Our In-the-Family ADA (Left) and the BEST man, Jakita’s Wonder Boy (Right).
How did they know? Well, if you had ears to hear and eyes to see knew it was the Mayor’s son that was guilty….but he had been accepted in to his own Ivy League Collegeand it could ruin not only his future but his father’s chance of re-election. And the Judge and the Mayor were both in the Rotary Club, the Golf Club…the Brotherhood of I’ll Stick Up For Yours If You’ll Stick Up For Mine.
Those country folks may not have been booked learned but they knew a thing or two about a thing or two. If the Judge had used the SecretSocietyofScryersdivinations to find a fall guy, then let him sit through an investigation and trial…put the shoe on the other foot, so to speak, Cinderella.
No one even remembered what the charge was…some said the offence was stealing the provincial flag from the local arena, replacing it with a Maple Leaf Forever.Indictable Offense, for sure.
We’re still standing Monuments.
Others said some gravestones of some executive’s family were knocked over …well, freaking tall and wide monuments, to be exact, erected so everyone could remember how important they were, how rich they were, in comparison to the rest of the have-nots.
It was not like the Judge had an easy time with the moonshine boys, the petty thievery, the almost assaults in the bar room brawls…if that wasn’t enough, there were some men who came to court, no charges against them and begged to be put in jail all winter so they could have three square meals and a roof over their head. The snow really piled up in this county while Arctic Vortexes hovered…so a well thought out long-range plan was essential to exist.
Not that First Cousin Twice Removed would come to no harm in jail with this more toothless than tough crowdwho wouldn’t even recognize agang member if they met him in their soup. Still, it was the injustice of ‘lock him up’ (Right, Hillary?) while the Mayor’s son skated freely through life that just burned the country folk to the bone.
Indiana Justice…or not…
So it came to pass, the highest court in the province found a Lady Judge who was worthy of being harassed by a bevy of folks as vocal and mad as Banty Hens and Coc-A-Doodle-Doo Roosters.
But I don’t know where I am 
