I had some dreams ... they were klowns in my koffee.


(With apologies to Carly Simon)


This is my journey through job transition from a toxic environment to a better life. Join me for a few thoughts and a few laughs along the way.
What are "klowns in my koffee"? They are the factors large and small that make you less than you are. A "klown" can be a grossly incompetent boss,
a short-sighted policy or a moronic coworker. They won't kill you, at least not immediately, but they abrade the soul
as you scrape past them to get through the day. Sometimes it's best to dump them out of the cup.


Friday

Day 314 - Princess Potatohead Turns Six

Daily Kup (My Life While I Was Sleeping)
And, you may ask, how did the experiment involving getting the recommended amount of sleep go? All the data is in and it seems that reasonable sleeping patterns are counterproductive to the generation of timely blog posts.

Also, all the newfound energy and positive feelings of self-worth that were inculcated from being rested caused me to launch a whirlwind of attending social functions and going out for drinks with old friends.

My system, not used to contact with the wider range of homo sapiens, promptly caught a monumental case of the flu that caused even more sleeping and less writing.

So that's why I disappeared for a while.

My dog(tiredness) ate my blog.

Completely contrary to the way that blogs are supposed to work, the missed days will be backfilled with all the wacky and offbeat material that was developed but not delivered during my sojourn in the rarefied ether of the healthy.

Well-restedness is Not All It's Cracked Up to Be

Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep.
~Fran Lebowitz

There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.
~Homer, The Odyssey

Early to bed and early to rise probably indicates unskilled labor.
~John Ciardi

I love sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?
~Ernest Hemingway

Piece of Cake (or How I Wilted with Wilton)
Princess Potatohead, last week on the cusp of age six, requested a strawberry cake in the likeness of a mermaid for her birthday. "How hard could it be to make one from scratch? " I said, all stoked on adequate sleep and flu medicine.

Clasping my 40% off coupon in one parsimonious hand, I went to the local pipe-cleaner-and-silk-foliage emporium to relieve them of one cake pan in the form of said creature. The hunt was successful and I emerged, humming that pernicious "Under the Sea" ditty, with an aluminum representation of a cartoon swimster.

With the encouragement and assistance of my wonderful mother-in-law, we were able to do things with buttercream frosting that should make any half-fish proud. The further one moved away from it, the better it looked. And tasted good up close.

OK, it's looks like the outcome of the combined genetic materials of Lucille Ball and the Thing from the Fantastic Four, Ben Grimm. With some Elephant Man.

Attila the Son has a birthday in four weeks. How do you think that a cake baked in the same mold would look decorated as ... a zombie?

No points if you thought, "Just the same as it does now."

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I think you should and do it all in black and let his imagination make up what he thinks it is. Or-----------let Terry decorate it, Probably end up the same.

Burning Khrome said...

Let's extend the concept: A Rorschach cake. It could intone, "And how did that make you feel?" for 50 minutes and then say, "Look's like we are out of time."

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