Blogs, much like pet turtles which lack the ability to obtain their owners attention when they have been forgotten to be fed, will inevitably go through periods of near starvation if not actual ceasation due to their pitiable situation. yesterday evening, a stain on my living room coffee table that mildly resembled a disembodied thumbs up inspired me to take up the electronic pen once again. and so to my cadaverious blog I have returned; ready to rub its head, scratch under its chin and coo sweet empty apologies into its tattered ear lobes.
Still, mind you, in the very fact that i am returning for the return, i am in no way implying that i have come with some grub to scratch about. but seeing as it has not been an uneventful month a good skimming off the top should satiate my blogs belly.
We five have dubbed our new house The Death Star; or at least i have dubbed it and the others have felt no need to argue. and why would they? there clearly is no spaceship cooler than that which can destroy planets in the blink of an eye. except of course for the Magic School Bus.
We have been gifted with two frigerators; one black one white; named Darth Vader and Storm Trooper respectively.
To the left of the Death Star lives the Furukawas; a quaint 50something couples whose existence is restricted to the block and a half radius from their house from which i've never seen them leave. the husband works in a small welding shop kiddykorner their house where he spends all day welding one peice of metal to another to sell as supplies to the Gundum factory up north. mrs. Furukawa is a most deleightful ceaseless knit of chuckles; one crochetting on the previous in one swift twist of the wrist. i imagine if she were an insturment she would be a bagpipe; with each note of a word being backed up by the droning giggle in the background. we have had many a long hubbub on from our respective doorways and i just find them both the beesknees.
I love having nieghbors. but i am hesitant. we are by no means a simple folk and i am worried are rancorous activities might make us swift enemies of those in the vicinity. however mrs. Furukawa's comments regarding a street cone we acquired on a festive outing then abandoned in our doorway leads me to beleive things will be alright between the houses. that, and coming home one day to find the Furukawa's doorstep littered with boxes on which was written in Japanese letters "golden poop" (with an illustrative drawing to clear up any misconception) tells me that the inevitable happenstance mishap from our side will be greated with a concordant snicker from the other.
And so the year of the Death Star has not just begun but is in motion. and will hopefully roll into a snowball of wackiness of which i should have plenty to write about. oh, and as a sidenote; my turtle is not dead...