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George Martin may have his Iron Throne.
But I have the Chair of Bear!
Above: Credit photo to Marianne C. Porter.
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Blog Archive
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2015
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February
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- Writing 501: Too Many Epiphanies
- Talking About Hope Mirrlees
- The Last of What Can Be Saved from the Wreckage?
- My Annotated Office Wall
- The Annotated Stone of Loneliness
- Seeing (and Hearing) Stars
- The Alien Worms of Truth
- Persistence
- My Boskone Schedule
- A Memoir in the Form of Four Denim Jackets (Part 4)
- Lost Tales from Pegana
- A Memoir in the Form of Four Denim Jackets (Part 3)
- Thane of Ursus Major
- Frankenstein Reborn
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February
(14)
3 comments:
I understand the balloon -- the fragility of human existence, its susceptibility to what would appear to be the most delicate pinpricks of fortune, the catastrophic adjustment as pressures within and without equalize too quickly, etc., etc. But why are you wearing a weasel on your head? (I know you can answer this.)
Eileen, I am wearing the skin of the noblest of weasels -- the American brown bear. Sean brought over some of our Emergency Back-up Sons for the Superbowl, so of course we had to give out a door prize.
Knowing that, an intelligent woman such as yourself will immediately recognize that your interpretation of the symbolism of the balloon was ingenious but misled. The truth was simply this: Bears love balloons.
And, of course, when a bear skin one have lived with for decades leaves the house, one must take pictures.
I congratulate you on devising such a clever way of sending a former bear off to a better life with young people. Sometime you should ask Leslie What what she did with her bearskin. (Yes, Leslie is a former bear.)
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