A Slice Of Life

The rain is falling on the just and the unjust, but not on us. We have finished the major, urgent tasks that needed accomplishing, and are snuggling in the living room with books and a fire, feeling smug and eating pastries. Very nice.

Othello is killing alien fiends on one computer, I am fiddling on this one in preparation for writing, Bridgette is looking through gardening books and dreaming. After a time, she lets out a strident, “Hm,” the sort intended to act as a cue for others in earshot to pay attention and ask what she’s thinking.

Othello is a courteous sort, so, “What?”

“Nothing. Just pondering.”

All of us here are Pinky & The Brain fans, so I kicked in with, “I think so, Brain, but how will we get enough ink to tattoo an entire hippopotamus?” which made Bridgette grin and Othello break, leaning against his screen to giggle. He stopped laughing, suddenly, sitting up with purpose gleaming from his eye.

“Oh. That. I have to do that. I have to tattoo a hippo, because that would just…be cool.”

We discussed it a bit, and agreed that hearts sporting the motto “Mom” or anchors with ribbons bearing ship names would just be tacky. Tribal tatts, that was the way to go, blending in on the sides of the animal with a design of multicolored flames blowing back over the flanks of the hippo. Maybe a racing stripe. We settled back and admired the decorated hippo in our shared mind’s eye.

Bridgette mistook this reverie for the planning stages of a hippo kidnapping. “You two. You two are not allowed to tattoo hippos.” This new marvel before us, we enjoyed the fact that we actually had to be told not to tattoo hippopotami, and that we had been so told.

“You know,” I said, “nobody makes a list or anything, but somewhere, in the back of your mind, when you wake up in the morning, you know that there are certain things that you are just not going to hear. ‘Don’t tattoo any hippos.'”

Othello nodded, lips pursed solemnly. “Other people must be very disappointed.”

25 thoughts on “A Slice Of Life”

    1. I am, in fact, blessed. But, I ought to point out, there were several very difficult years getting here. I wish smokeyal8r was here to take part in the hippo tattooing, though.

      She always has such artistic ideas….

      1. *nods*…. My difficult years are just beginning, me thinks….

        I have had 7 fairly easy years with my kid, now she chooses to inflict injurious remarks upon me. Everyone tells me it’ll get better with time. I can only hope that I will outlast this ‘hardship’ of her & my life.

        … Tattooing a hippo sounds like fun!..
        I shared with Dan this morning about how the Scientist think that Eta Carinae might supernova one day…and it’s only about 7,000 to 7,500 light years away.. Yeah I know.. boring stuff. 🙁

        I kinda feel lost.

          1. *hugs* and thank you for sharing about the tribal hippo.

            Last night, she and I talked, for the first time in several days. We were civil. We talked about her feelings and mine, and we talked about why she feels the way she feels. I am left with a bit of peace and a better understanding of her reasons. *hugs*

  1. So… she didn’t say *I* wasn’t allowed to tattoo hippos, did she?
    Which means that if we just happened to find one at the Portland Zoo while we were up for OryCon, and you guys did the stencilling and loaded the ink and stuff, you wouldn’t technically be doing any of the tattooing….

    1. Bridgette is rolling her eyes and suggesting we haven’t time to stencil and tatt…which means we’re clear and rollin’, no denied stencilling. Next time Disney remakes fantasia, they’ll have some trendy, dark hippos at the casting call.

        1. Good question. I have no strong opinions regarding the nature vs. nurture debate. Having met his mom, I’m tempted to say neither. But only to make her roll her eyes.

          1. Are we entirely the product of our genes, or of our upbringing and environment or are we what we have made of ourselves? That is, nature, nurture or Nietzsche?

            I’d love to claim that, but it appears that Julie Burchill beat me to it.

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