Haiku Monday: X Marks the Spot

Okay, all you Haiku Crack Monkeys,
the game's being played here for the duration. 

Topic is X. 

You can play this alphabetically ("X marks the spot"), phonetically ("extraneous intervention"), obliquely ("all my former girlfriends were blondes"), or literally ("I have x-ray vision"). Just make sure your haiku is 5-7-5 and uses a kireji. A reference to nature is nice, but not necessary. Submit here, no more than two, por favor—my brain can only hold so much these days. If you'd like to post on your own blog with images, even better.

Judging will be open until midnight EST on Monday, February 20. I will announce the winner sometime on Tuesday the 21st.

Good luck and I expect some awesome haiku!

Valentine's Day D'oh, Nuts!

Dear Dunkin Donuts,

You know I love you, right?  Like oxygen. Like the desert loves the rain. Like Coco loves Ice. Or Ice loves Coco, I can never remember which.

And that it's been agony for me, to drive right on by you every Tuesday morning for the past eight months, holding my breath so as not to breathe in the beckoning waft of your warm, yeasty, sugary goodness and turning up the radio so as not to hear your siren call begging me to forget about my workout, the 100 burpees and push ups and split leg lunges waiting for me two blocks up the street, and to belly up instead to your cheery counter where you already have waiting for me a steaming cup of coffee—blond, two sugars—and a lemon-filled puff of pastry perfection.

Therefore, if my husband is going to help break my will by sending me a pink and red heart embossed Dunkin Donuts Valentine's Day gift card, how in the name of all that is holy could you possibly RUN OUT OF EVERY SINGLE FREAKIN' DONUT IN YOUR DING DANG FREAKIN' DONUT SHOP fifteen seconds before I get there?

Signed,

Moi

Happy Heart Day

What's your favorite song about love?

Haiku Monday: DON'T MESS WITH MOTHER NATURE

Beat the winter blues:

Force a sleeping beauty's bloom.

Windowsill springtime.

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Fishy is hosting this week, so head on over to her pond to participate.

Trail Running With Moi (and Crap iPhone Photos)

The sky at 8 a.m., at the start of the run, looking south from the Three Gun (Tres Pistoles) Springs trailhead in the Sandia Mountains. I am cold. I know this won't last long. I know that soon, it will become yet again apparent to me that I am yet again overdressed. I take a moment to admire the sky and the view across I-40 (down there somewhere) to another mountain range, the Manzanos.
(And the nukes tucked away in their foothills.)

Looking north up Tres Pistoles, which begins at 6,500 feet in the Upper Sonoran Desert Life Zone. I am only 3.5 seconds into my run and already I am not running. This will turn out to be a pattern . . .

Hey, what are these Chihuahuan desert plant species doing here? (Obviously, NOT running.)

2,000 feet, 2.5 miles, and one Transition Zone later, I arrived here, in the middle of the Canadian zone, with its shift into piñon, juniper, and Ponderosa. And snow. Way up there in the distance, at 10,500 feet, that's the near-alpine, Hudsonian Zone. Brrrr!

 Moss covered granite boulder. It was so pretty, I wanted to hug it.

 Another granite slab, at 8,500 feet. All this used to be underwater. If you look closely at some of the rocks, you can see the remains of ancient sea creatures, frozen there for all time. For a second, I contemplated climbing on top, lying down, and . . . staying there. Let Great Spirit take my soul and return my body to the earth. Or, at the very least, bring it a cup of coffee and a donut.

Back down again, into the desert, to give my quads a rest along a (relatively) un-steep spur trail. I wonder if HR Giger ever hiked the Hawkwatch trail in the Sandia Moutains?

With rock formations like these, who needs pyramids?




Where was S.B.? He took a right turn at the Embudo Trail spur at 8,000 feet to run down the frontside of the mountain into Albuquerque, which you can see taunting me there in the sun-warmed distance. Down there, in all that sunshine, people were drinking coffee and eating donuts. Me, I drove down and around to pick S.B. up in the Jeep.

We did not get donuts.

* * *

Afterward, I finally realized why this trail is named Three Gun Springs. Because you need three guns to put yourself out of your misery: one to shoot yourself in the head for even thinking about running it, one to shoot yourself in the foot for actually attempting to run it, and one to shoot the ubiquitous piece of over-tanned beef jerky masquerading as a world champion trail runner who just passed you doing 80 mph with nary a water bottle or Gu in his clutches. Cougars don't bother attacking those guys because there is nothing there to sink their fangs into.

Economics From the Mouths of Babes

Conversation with my niece in the car this morning:

Niece: Aunt Moi, how come health care isn't free in this country?

Moi: How do you mean?

Niece: I mean, millions of people die every year from lack of health insurance. So shouldn't health care be free?

Moi: You mean like millions of people die because they don't get enough to eat? Should we make groceries free, too?

Niece: (Thinks for a second.) Okay, that sounds good.

Moi: And how about shelter? People without a roof over their head are in danger of dying. And clothing. Can't be naked out in the elements.

Niece: Yeah! That's a great idea. Free housing and clothing.

Moi: And vacations.

Niece: Now you're just being silly.

Moi: No I'm not! You try working 40 hours a week, day in day out, without a break. Let me tell you, vacations are very necessary to mental and physical health.

Niece: Okay. Gotcha. Those should be free, too.

Moi: So the only question becomes, who pays the people providing all these free services?

Niece: The government.

Moi: How?

Niece: Oh come on, Aunt Moi. You know, taxes.

Moi: Yeah, but, almost everything is free; there is no money.

Niece: Well, the government can just print it and distribute it.

Moi: Okay, but who pays the government to do that? Who pays the printers? And designers? And wrappers? And bank tellers?

Niece: (Getting frustrated.) Okay, okay, I see your point. How about we get rid of money entirely then and trade for everything we need?

Moi: Hmmm . . . not a bad idea, but let me see if I understand you correctly. If I need my teeth cleaned, I go to my dentist and trade him my lawn moving skills. Even-Steven, right?

Niece: Right!

Moi: But what if my dentist doesn't have a lawn? What if what he really needs is his computer de-bugged?

Niece: Well, then you find someone who knows computers but also needs his lawn mowed, trade him, and he debugs your dentist.

Moi: Wow, sounds like this could get awfully complicated. How are we doing to keep track of it all?

Niece: (Thinking.)  I know! How about a system of coupons? Pieces of paper with different values on them that we trade back and forth?

Moi: Great idea! People will work to accumulate as many coupons as possible, so they have enough to trade for a bunch of real stuff. Is that what you mean?

Niece: Exactly!

Moi: Just one problem.

Niece: What's that, Aunt Moi?

Moi: Whatever happened to "free?"

Haiku Monday: METALLIC SOUND

Crunching tin foil chords

wrestle tissue box backbeat.

Rock on, Riot Grrrls.

• • • 

Haiku Monday is being hosted this week by Serendipity. 

Pop on over and see what sounds people are coming up with. 

Better yet, play yourself!