Haiku Mondays: Hobbies Winner

What on earth is going on with Blogger? I sure hope the fact that it's misbehaving again didn't prevent anyone from submitting a haiku. I waited a few hours after it seemed to be up and running to see if there were more submissions. But it seems we're solidly locked in at 12 players and 18 haiku, each a most excellent rumination on what it is exactly that we do in our off time. Or, if you're Buzz, don't do because in Buzzworld, there is no such thing as off time.

Anyhoo, let's get to it, shall we?

Aunty: Could it be that Aunty is a secret gamer? Or wishes she were, and if that wish came true, she would be some kind of leather-outfitted avenging angel of dominatrix-ey doom? Food for thought, y'all.

Boxer: One of my favorites this go 'round, a top contender for its air of nostalgia and the way the last line bitch slaps our low tech past with today's digital wizardry. Five miles up the hill through a foot of snow much, Moi? Yes. And I refuse to apologize for it.

Buzz: Another top tier contender. Someday soon, Buzz, you will have all the time in the world to do . . . absolutely nothing. Because when that time finally arrives, why in the heck would you want to fill it right back up?

Czar: Ladies and gentlemen, the hardest working man in the Publishing Industry. He forgot to also mention wrangling Hunter S. Thompson, kissing Jane Fonda, and temporarily assuaging Thornton Dial's mistrust of white folk.

Fishy: Ladies and gentlemen, the hardest working woman in Haiku Mondays, regaling us with no less than three snap crackle poppy ruminations on her favorite past time: playing board games. Single best line of this week's competition: Donald has been trump'd.

Fleurdeleo: Fleur hasn't been playing with us long, but she's been playing hard and fierce. This week she contributed yet another stunner, a pitch perfect ode to the beauty of making something out of nothing.

Foam: Foam never fails to make me suck in my breath with her evocative imagery, this one shrouded in mist and dripping with dew as she ponders her love for long, ambling walks. So pretty.

K9: I love the staccato simplicity of this, like a Morse-coded call to arms for the insomniacally conspiratorial set, sipping endless mugs of Morning Thunder while half eyeballing the contents of their gun cabinets just in case the revolution decides to hit at 2am.

Karl: Karl strikes me as someone with a very upbeat disposition—all of the sunny without any of the hippie. The winner of our last competition, his entry this time was a short and sweet exhortation to go ahead and do something, anything already, so long as it brings you happiness and peace.

Pam: Has camera, will travel. And take photos of what has to be my most favorite virtual kitty of all time: Sterling. Have you seen him lately? He's a contenda.

Princess: Another multiple haiku entrant, two that focus on jam and preserve-making, the other on quilting, all beautifully written and making me thankful that the domestic arts are alive and well in the hearts of many of this world's men. I also love this line: "lashings of jam." Tres cool.

Troll: One minute he's here, the next he isn't. Is he off saving the world from Rampaging Rapturers or is he secreted away in some smokey dark room paying his mortgage by outsmarting the competition in Texas Hold 'em? We'll never know. But we do know he can write Haiku, and in the end that's all that really matters.

Now, for the winner. For me, it was neck and neck between Boxer's ode to old fashioned darkrooming and Pam's cat wranglin' 'ku, with Buzz and Troll nudging up closely from behind. For Karl, it was never a question: Pamela all the way.

One cat in; two out
Two cats in; one cat garage
My life: cat herder.

Why? Anyone who's ever had to manage a multiple-animal household knows exactly what she's talking about. I also like the sing-song-ey way she structured her words to mimic the constant bustle of that management. And because we all know what it means when someone says, "That's like herding a bunch of cats." In other words: near impossible to the point of chaotic hilarity.

Congrats, Pam, on another worthy win. Now go snag yourself some pistol ice cub trays and see if you can't sneak 'em through your metal detector at work.