Saturday, October 11, 2008

Setting Sail

As the first post in this new blog, a joint experiment/experience between my wife and I (and our menagerie of animal friends, both indoor at out), it would probably make sense, as a preamble (or in MY case, pre-RAMBLE), to give an overview of what our "mission statement" for this blog is to be, as well as it's inspiration(s).

Well, basically, it's a glorified diary of sorts.
And, before you yawn and click away, I can assure you, that our lives have ALWAYS been so rife with truly bizarre, oftentimes unbelievable events, that anyone who knows us, has long since accepted that it would be a *very* small leap of faith to take our word for it should we claim that we had been abducted by aliens (which, thankfully hasn't happened. Although, I'd be into the possibility of taking that sort of adventure. Really. It's not much further than what we go through on a daily basis. You'll see). They'd simply shake their heads, look at us in a mix of awe, shock and sadness and say; "Only you guys!"

But, as opposed to most diaries (or journals - for the guys ... or "Logs" for any ship-captains or Starship Officers out there), it isn't going to be a strict chronological procession.
That was the main stumbling block from my starting up a journal before, in all the previous years that I had the impetus to do so. I simply couldn't wrap my head around starting at some seemingly random date/year and jumping in like that - possibly leaving out previous exploits or tales of life's joys and/or miseries.

Of course, we're old enough that most of the times we thought of such things were before the internet was as fully functional as it is today (or *cough* even existed *cough*), and would have entailed actual pen and paper. But with the advent of blogging, it was then a matter of just getting to the point where we simply couldn't wait any longer. The time was now. There are far too many stories of past craziness, and new ones happening every. single. day... that if we try to wait for our lives to ease up on us, we'd never remember them all.

So, to that end, if we ever have a lull in our daily lives, or if something reminds us of a previous situation, we'll tell the tale of that past misadventure.
Jumping back and forth in the timeline of the 40-some-odd years our lives (whether it be the 11 years of our married life, the previous 10 years of friendship/ dating/ engagement before that, or the years before we met).

With these various stories, I'd imagine that there might even be times where I (who shall only go by the name of "The OWL") might tell of an event that transpired, and then my wife ("The PUSSYCAT") might tell of the same event, but from HER point of view. I have found that sometimes, that unique "split-screen" (or multi-camera) telling of an event helps give it breadth and clarity (or an often time unknown bit of hilarity).

Through all of this, I'm sure that the readers of this blog might fall into separate camps:
- those who'll like her
- those who'll hate me
- those who didn't think that was funny, and NOW are already starting to hate me

But, again, to the inspiration of the blog, it's title and our "pseudonyms", it's simple;
For as long as I've known her, my wife has been likened to a cat.
She possesses that strange mixture that many feral cats embody; of affection, durability, ability to withstand the harshness of existence with a shrug, loyalty, tenaciousness, snuggling with loved-ones and other cats, a temper when bothered too much, and the comfort of a warm, soft, loving home... and, in the eyes of this OWL, a deep, alluring sexiness.

Almost every Halloween she'd dress as a cat of some sort, and
she used to sign the love-notes she would write to me as "boo-boo kitty".

As for myself, as long as I can recall, when not being called *other things*, I have been given a comparison to being a "wise owl".
Bookish, sharp of eye, quick of wit and tongue, given to flights of fancy and/or necessity, a cool demeanor even if my feathers are ruffled, but a quick snapping temper when pushed too far, and much like my "namesake"; the curse of looking far smarter than I truly am.

I've never dressed as an owl, but I do have a collection of many items with an owl-motif. (One of the MANY types of collections that I have amassed over my years - in fact, I am also starting up a blog dedicated to some of those endeavors. Look for them in the "about me" space).

However, aside from that, all of my life, even people who might not have thought of me as being "owl-like" often come to me seeking "sage" advice, enlightenment or information (or just useless trivial "knowledge", of which I am a font). Truly, I know not why.

Then, one day, after we were married it dawned upon us that WE, were an OWL and a PUSSYCAT, much like that old, famous nonsense-poem by Edward Lear.

I know there's also a movie (based upon a play), but oddly enough neither my wife nor I have seen it. I might have to rent it one day, but it's not really germane to our appreciation of the symbolic nature of our love of the poem.

The poem seems almost written for us. It fits.
It tells the tale of an OWL & a PUSSYCAT who set sail in a PEA-GREEN BOAT to see the world, decide to get married and go on journeys to fulfill that goal (and while unwritten, obviously continued to do so after they were wed).

The PEA-GREEN boat that they sailed in is what we took as the title for this blog.
It is our vessel with which we will share our journeys.
Hopefully, for long years to come.

And for your appreciation, and to end this post (finally) I will reproduce the poem here for you.
Thanks for suffering through the first - longwinded- post.
It won't be the last.

The Owl and the Pussycat - 1871 - by Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey,
and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married;
too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

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