Care-less
Lately I don’t give a thought to what I’m going to wear,
and I’ve let my hair grow down to my derriere.
No longer do the men I meet ever stop to stare,
but it doesn’t bother me. I simply do not care.
The dVerse Poets Quadrille prompt today is “Care.” To see other responses to the prompt, go HERE. Image created with AI.
The prompt for “Take a Look Bacj” is to look back at what I published on this day, July 27, on an earlier year in my blog. I chose this poem published in 2016:. True now as then.
1958
Panic!!!
When I was younger and a rover,
the things I should have panicked over
never seemed to stick to me.
I guess that’s part of being free.
But now with bigger guns and Isis,
we all feel continual crisis.
Though it’s true, I must confess,
I overlook the world’s grand mess
and concentrate on creaking knees
and where I left my ring of keys.
As I get older, I would guess,
I’ll feel more panic over less.
For the “Blast from the Blog” prompt, I am rerunning this post from today’s date (July 25) ten years ago. It is connected to two other blogs that tell the entire story. And if you’re wondering, after ten years, in spite of what seems to be true at the end of this segment, I’m still addicted to Scrub Daddy. You might also want to read the comments as the saga continues there.
On February 20 of this year, I posted an entry about the Scrub Daddy Sponge my sister put in my Xmas stocking.
(Click first photo and arrows to enlarge and see commentary under each photo, then click on X at upper left to return and read the poem.) Note: Wordpress seems to be having some problems. If the process just suggested doesn’t work, hovering over each photo will let you see the captions.)
The Demise of Scrub Daddy
Scrub Daddy, Scrub Daddy, where you gone?
There in pieces, so limp and wan,
you hardly seem the selfsame sponge
meant to scour and expunge
clinging morsels of cooked-on rice
when I swipe once and maybe twice.
Yet after only thirty days,
I must amend my former praise,
for after one-too-many rubbings,
you haven’t very many scrubbings
left in you. You’ve lost your heart,
unstiffed your starch, fallen apart!
Scrub Daddy, Scrub Daddy, I won’t buy
another cut-out scrub sponge guy.
I’ll make do with a simple square
that’s lacking mouth and eyes and hair.
Though you’d win any cuteness casting,
I’ll choose a sponge that’s longer lasting!
Now, if you want to know the full story of Scrub Daddy, read my earlier posting about him Here.
And, if you want to know the final outcome of this story, read this:
https://judydykstrabrown.com/2016/06/14/scrub-daddy-goes-on-fiesta/
and, since this post follows in the footsteps of an earlier one, I’m posting it in Footsteps as well.
For Fibbing Friday, July 24, 2026 the assignment is:
1. What is a faucet? One of Charley’s Angels.
2. What is a patella? Cinderella’s younger sister.
3. What is an elevator? An escalator for elves.
4. What is a lancet? A small sword.
5. What is a ferris wheel? A tire for Tinkerbell’s car.
6. How would you describe a pomegranate? Either vocally or in written script or on my computer.
7. What is a fringe? The Amharic word for a foreigner.
8. What is a bunion? A very small rabbit.
9. What is a munchkin? What you call your younger brother or sister when they are chewing their after-school snack.
10. What is an arctic roll? It’s what happens when a walrus or seal slips on the ice.
doll by Louie Gann, jdbphoto
Sleight of Knees
When the circus clown was lauded,
marveled at, praised and applauded
for hanging from the high trapeze
for 24 hours by his knees,
though he was admired for his moxie,
it turns out it was just epoxy!
For Blast from the Past, here is a silly poem from july 15, 2017. I shared a house with Louie for two weeks at Cannon Beach, Oregon. in 2001 and still have her wonderful doll. It made the culling before my move to Mexico. Louis, if you see this, drop me a line…
The Eighth Deadly Sin:
(Advice for Errant Males)
Wrath and avarice and pride
can be safely kept inside.
So although we all may be them,
it is often hard to see them.
If you are a seasoned actor,
sloth will never be a factor
leading to your firing
or premature retiring.
Often envy, I confess,
is one more way that I transgress;
but even though we’re caught inside it,
almost all of us can hide it.
Lust is the sin that’s most unfurled
upon us in this modern world
in every book and magazine.
In movies? It’s in every scene.
And though sex is oft debated,
we only label them X-rated;
and though we profess to abhor them,
in solitude, we may adore them.
Gluttony’s the only sin
we cannot seem to keep within;
for everything that meets our lips,
alas, is carried on our hips!
Each is labeled “deadly sin”—
the one outside, others within;
but I’m inclined to add another
perhaps not taught you by your mother.
These deadly sins from one to seven
may be what keep you out of heaven,
but it’s transgression number eight
that will ban you as my date!
You may talk as you pour wine,
and continue as we dine;
but when I start to tell a tale,
heaven help the errant male
who utters “Me, too . . . ” then proceeds
to list more of his facts and deeds.
As music fades and lights all dim,
bringing the subject back to him!
I know that sinning is the fate
of many couples on a date.
So lust may now and then corrupt me,
but no one gets to interrupt me!!!!
For the “Classic Material” prompt, we were asked to reblog material posted on this date..July 12, in another year. This was posted in 2019. I was actually a reblog from 2019, but I am telling the tale again in hopes those it describes might recognize themselves and repent before it is too late.
For The Friday Reminder, the prompt is “Jelly.” This should be fun…
A Jellybelly Insight
What feels special in my belly?
Ice cream, peanut butter, jelly,
Scotchbread cookies, pecan pie
and all the chocolate I can buy.
Thus said, I bet that you can tell
my tummy’s padded pretty well.
And since my jeans I can’t fit into,
it’s salad I should have bit into.
Yikes! is that a scorpion? Actually, this is a bottle of mescal my student Eduardo gave me last year for my birthday. Inside were three giant scorpions and a coral snake. So far everyone who has visited me has given it a miss, as have I. It is rumored that a sip of it will bolster a man’s virility.
Creature Discomforts
Lest you suffer a hot foot in the darkness of the night
as you journey to the bathroom and feel a sting or bite,
best slip into your shoes first before you journey there
lest a scorpion or spider gives a wound that you can’t bear.
Then in the brightness of the day, out in the prairie grass,
God grant that you’re not bitten in the ankle or the ass
by a coral snake who wounds you and is off, then, in a shot,
leaving you with ashen face, intestines in a knot.
Wishing you were dead, perhaps, instead of in such pain
that you vow that you will never walk in waist-high grass again
lest it lead to the resurgence of encounters with that snake
who surely you could fight off with a pistol or a rake
Better that you face it in bottle of mescal
than bushwhacking through the grasslands or walking down the hall.
if only you had seen it, but now that subject’s moot.
If you ever walk this way again, you’ll bring a gun–and shoot!
The words for Sunday Whirl this week are: shot foot dark bright prairie grass hot ash dead resurgence fight god
Empty Nest
I’ve been missing
that half-grown kissing
that lasts a minute
with chocolate in it.
Runny noses.
Heads of roses
picked off stems
like rarest gems
presented in
a tuna tin.
Priceless treasure
for my pleasure.
My life lacks
these loving smacks––
even a quickie,
albeit sticky
with peanut butter.
A parting stutter,
and then they’re gone
and off upon
contrivences new,
away from you,
taking their kisses
to other misses.
For Fandango’s FOWC the prompt is “Contrived.”
The Assignment for Fibbing Friday today is: Below are 10 titles and authors, all of which are fictitious. This week I’m asking you to do a cover blurb in a few sentences or perhaps have an idea for a sequel.
1. The Missing Tent by Seymour Skye: An expose of why touring circuses are a thing of the past.
2. Making the Most of Bread by Roland Pickles: A misprint of the actual book Making the Host of Bread, which is a guide for the preparation of Protestant holy communion.
3. Living on a Budget by M T Wallit: The author’s name is a pseudonym. This is actually the title of a tongue-in-cheek book by Donald Trump.
4. Wake me at Dawn by Misty Mawning: A book ghost-written by someone pretending to be the corpse at a funeral Wake.
5. Sing me a Lullaby by Muse Ickles: Advice for a new mother, written as though reading the mind of a screaming baby at 3 A.M.
6. Caught in the Act by Robin Banks: Pseudonym for the real author, Donald Trump, who will as usual escape unprosecuted and unpunished.
7. The Pensioner Chronicles by Jerry Attrick: Biography of Leonardo da Vinci, so named because Leonardo’s journals contain drawings with cross-sections of what appears to be a reservoir pen that works by both gravity and capillary action.
8. The Scapegoat’s Revenge by Carrie deCan: Leon Trotsky’s pseudonym for his autobiography that revealed Stalin’s vile scheme to blame him for soviet economic failures and military disasters,
9. Fields of Destiny by Krystal Ball: Biography of popular twenty-first century singing group “Destiny’s Child.”
10. The Long and the Short of It by Cyn Opsiss. Again, a pseudonym used for a sex guide written by Donald Trump. Only half fiction.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 