Maternal lobotomy

Damn my brain aches. I'm too old for this. My children have leeched all the brain cells out of my head and replaced them with "Goodnight Moon."

You know, I'll admit it, I liked the book the first 15 times I read it-- how sweet "Good night noises everywhere." I just didn't realize I might as well have been bidding ado to my power to reason.

Here is my dilemma. I logged onto amishav's blog where he's got this poem you're supposed to decode-- tell what works it draws from. Now, way, way back before Dr. Suess told me to eat green eggs and ham and watch out for the cat in the hat, I knew something about literature. Literature puzzles-- what a fun way to spend an evening.

So I took the challenge. I read the poem and pieces of it sounded so eerie-- I've been here before-- long before my kids lobotomized me. O.K. I know it's not derived from Stellaluna or The Giving Tree. The Sidewalk does not end here. This is serious business-- grab the masters and start reading.

Reading is impossible. During my hours of short-sentenced, single plot reading, I've lost the ability to comprehend anything more than a grocery list.

I skimmed on.

The first one was sort of easy because the name Porphry stuck out like a hair in a salad-- where, where, where have I heard that before? And there somewhere in the recesses of my brain, buried under a load of dust was the Enneads of Plotinus. I don't know why-- took a wild guess and bingo.

Irish poet? Joyce, do I have to revisit Finnegan's Wake? James and I were buddies my senior year, but we have a falling out over feminism-- and I can't remember who won.

Fortunately someone else had already gone there and James is not the man of the hour in the poem-- and so, I'll take another wild guess.
Oh I recognized Yeats-- pitter-patter, pitter-patter-- these are the that words are made of. I just thought I was nuts to think of Yeats at a time when Porphry was doing summersaults in my grey matter.

Though I will admit had I been alive and in Ireland in the late 1800s, I would have been strutting by his abode. Which poem now? Who the hell knows? Love him, don't have time to relive him right now.

Where to next? Someone mentioned Divine Comedy and it made sense. But, sorry to say my copy is gone, imagine that? I decided I'd just wing it-- now I realize return visits could come in handy when you are competing for a half a can of seasoning salt.

And so dear readers, if you are looking for some fun or feel the need ot take a refresher course in Literature-- amishav's blog is a wonderful, if not frustrating, challenge.

As for me, I know when I'm way, way,way out of my league, and so I throw in the towel. Maybe after a glass of wine, I'll feel lit enough for lit.

Oh, bother I think I'll take a stab at "One Fish, Two fish" instead-- at least then the kids aren't coloring on the wall.

My head hurts from all this nonsense.