Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
No time to write, so I'll post pictures instead. This is from the potluck we had a my apartment, almost at the end of our first Peace Education course, 2 or 3 weeks ago. That's Diana on the left, Maricelly playing Diana's guitar and teaching us a song about a cactus and a flower and fish in the sea. Destiny and Myo on the couch. Mackenzie on the floor in front of me. Soooo much delicious food. And I, as the host, cleverly ended up w/the leftovers.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
To the Lizard in my Window Well:
Please don’t look so concerned; I promise not to squish you when I slide the window open. In fact, I’m glad you’re here. Eat all the insects you want: somewhere, someone is making more.
To the Ants in the Kitchen:
Let me begin by saying, I admire your work ethic. Really. It’s an inspiration to us all. I am supremely grateful that the cockroaches haven’t learned to follow your example.
Now then, on to business. I thought we had an arrangement. I agreed not to destroy you and your families on sight and further ceded to you the territory of the sink. Any of the food clinging to plates or forks in the sink waiting to be washed, you are welcome to. In exchange, you were to avoid the territory of the clean dishes and silverware in the dish drainer. Though it is helpful when you point out an insufficiently washed fork I would prefer that you and your brethren not take advantage of the opportunity to crawl up my arm.
I have no desire to initiate hostile actions, but if we can’t respect each other’s personal space, I fear it may come to that. If there is no trust in a relationship, I’m not sure it’s a relationship I care to maintain.
To the Spider I Found in My Bed the Other Morning:
Your insect eating services are not required at that location. However, if you wanted to open a franchise in the kitchen, I would be happy to suggest a few locations.
PS. Do you like ants?
To the Cockroaches:
Long time no see. I am ok with that.
To the Dogs. All of you.
If little Timmy has fallen down a well, or if there is currently a stealthy band of landlocked pirates crawling, knives clenched between their teeth, towards the unsuspecting, drowsy children of Ciudad Colón, please, disregard the rest of this letter.
If little Timmy is fine and the pirates are all in movies where they belong, then please be so kind as to knock it off. Or at least walk over to the dog you are conversing with so you don’t have to shout.
Thanking you in advance for you attention to this matter,
To the Monkeys (please forward):
Where are you?