Category Archives: Profile


So the other day I put out a call for post ideas and a couple people actually responded with requests! I was excited, especially when I saw that the lovely Ionia Martin suggested the word exuberance. I immediately thought of my dog, who is always hyper and excited and exhausting herself with her bouncing around. So I wrote the following sketch, outlining my dog, and how she is the epitome of exuberance.

“Good morning! Good morning human! Wake up!” Read the rest of this entry

Freddie’s Rant

So, I was going through my old writings yesterday to find some inspiration, and I found a piece I wrote a while back from the perspective of my truck. I figured it was the perfect time to post this (with some revisions) since I ran over a curb Saturday, causing me to need a new tire for the third time since November. Anyway, without further ado, Freddie’s Rant. (To see the history behind Freddie’s name, see Car History part 3: Freddie)

Well, she’s done it again. Here I am, a beautiful blue truck, and I’m stuck sitting outside on the curb for half a day without a tire. Just because she can’t pay attention when she’s making turns. I mean, first she kills my front right tire by hitting it on the curb at home all the time. Then she just wears down the front left. Honestly, that one probably wasn’t completely her fault. The tire was getting a bit old. But this time was completely her fault. That was the third curb she hit with the right rear tire in less than a week. Learn some depth perception girl!

But I’m sure it’s not even depth perception. She just doesn’t pay attention. I mean, if I had to count how many times she slams on her brakes, I would be able to count a lot higher. If she would just drive a bit less recklessly, I wouldn’t have to sleep so much in my downtime. I could flirt with the neighbor trucks. I could have time to share stories of our adventures. As it is, she is making me old, fast. Is it time to retire yet?



The silly squirrel chirps and barks at me in anger. He wants me away from his tree? Ha! Fat chance! I defy his angry warnings and lope around the base of the catalpa. This is after all, my yard. What right does a squirrel have to tell me what to do?

He’s silent for a second.


Well now that we’ve got that out of the way, do you feel better mr. squirrel? No? How about we work out our differences? I jump onto the trunk of the tree, digging my claws into the bark. That jump was a little higher than I thought. I inch up the tree. I don’t know how high I can go, but cats always land on their feet, right?


It’s ok, squirrelly, I’m just coming to have a little chat. See? I’m not gonna hurt you (my claws are a bit busy keeping me in this damn tree. Why would you spend ALL your time in one of these?)

YES! I reached the lowest branch! I’m higher above the ground than the height of most humans! Where’d that pesky squirrel go?


Yeah, not quite as loud now are you? That’s right, you inch away. If I made it this high, I can get to you. That branch is only a few feet away. Look at how high I’ve climbed already?

Wow… That’s kind of high. How am I supposed to get down? Hmmm… Well, I’m sure I can just run down the trunk. But I’d better not go toooo much higher. Just a couple branches. Give that squirrel a little bit to worry about.

What’s my silly human doing out here?

“Tulip! Tulip Come down!” Snap, Snap.

Really? As if snapping her fingers is going to get me down. I’m fine. Go back inside. Leave me alone.

BWAHA! Didn’t think I was still paying attention to you, did ya, squirrelly?

I’m gonna getcha!

Okaaaay…. I guess I’ll let you live. This time.

Just because I don’t want my silly human to worry about me in this tree.

Now, to get down…… Ok, here goes..

clackety, scrape sliiiiide

Ooh, that was fun! I’ll definitely be doing that again. Watch out squirrelly! I’ll be back!

Dancing in the Rain

Here’s a piece inspired by a Nietzsche quote another blogger posted.“Those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”  – Friedrich Nietzsche

“Run! We can get inside before we get too wet!” Sandra pulled on Lionel’s hand, rushing to get out of the rain. Suddenly, her hand was empty, and the five year old was sprinting the other direction, spinning around and jumping in the biggest puddle he could find.

“Lionel!” Get back here! You’ll catch your death!”


“Oh, no! It’s raining! Our hair will get wet! The girls complained while Lionel and Jesse rolled their eyes at each other. “I have an umbrella we can share.” Jesse said to his date. Sarah looked at Lionel expectantly. “Here,” he started to take off his jacket. “You can hold this over your head.”

“But then you’ll get wet!”

“I don’t mind, really.” They got out of the car. While Jesse and the girls rushed into prom, Lionel stood for a second, looking up at the sky, basking in the rain. He looked longingly at a nearby puddle, but then turned away and ran to catch up with the others.

“Lionel, hurry up! You’re going to be soaked through for pictures!”


“It’s pouring down out there!” The whole office was staring at the downpour. Lionel had been busy delivering coffee to superiors all day. The rain called to him. Finally, he burst through the door and let the drops pour over his face.

“What is he doing?”

“I think he’s … dancing.”


In case you didn’t notice, the other day’s “Pansy” post was about my dog. So I figured that my cat deserved a post as well. Yes, my pets are named after flowers, though they often are called “Monster” and “Cat”. So, without further ado, here are Tulip’s couple paragraphs of fame:

The blue mouse eludes me, though it doesn’t move. It lies on the ground, taunting me. I wait, knowing it is on its guard. Finally, I pounce! It is in my claws! … And now it’s gone. How did it over there?

I bound across the room and attack again. The mouse bounces off my claws, the furniture, and lands… right near a sunbeam! The spot of light is smart and hides beneath the mouse, but I will get them both! I leap to the carpet and… both the mouse and the sunbeam are on top of my paw. How can this be?

I spin in circles; I bounce back and forth; I leap over ottomans and scratching toys. I will defeat these two foes that have ganged up against me. Or… I’ll take a nap.


The Monster attacks, mercilessly, attempting to maul my face. It’s not her fault. She thinks she’s starving, though she ate mere hours ago. She longs for the days when she was fed steak, bacon, bread. Now she eats salted rocks and is expected to be happy.

The Monster finally allows herself to be shoved to the bottom of the bed. Oh well, she’ll just sniff the cat’s butt now.