My Soup is Too Hot

I've always liked haiku, those little Japanese poems. Traditionally they are 3 lines, the first being 5 syllables, the second 7, the last 5. If you read what they have to say on Wikipedia though it's pretty flexible as to the number of syllables, but the traditional rules involve a bit more than I usually adhere to. I prefer to stick to the 5-7-5 format because that's what I originally learned and I usually write them about whatever random thought is crossing my mind at the time.

I have a habit of making haiku about everything from little boys in Spiderman pajamas, to supper, flowers, pets, holidays, you name it. Sometimes silly, sometimes serious, but always fun.

Here's one for a previous post.

Snailerina small
Twirling across the surface
Gliding twirling swan

And here are some of my favorites.

He looks very cute
in Spiderman pajamas
My sweet little boy

Little naked boy
Let's get pajamas on you
Quickly, quickly now

Or how about these food related haiku:

Supper is yummy
I really like chicken legs
The kids won't eat them

Waffles for breakfast
Crispy, tasty, steaming hot
Butter and syrup

Pork and fries tonight
Pork wrapped in juicy bacon
Crispy, crunchy fries

Cool milk in my mouth
Soothing treat for a burned tongue
My soup is too hot

And hubby came up with this one:

Mommy is a dork.
She makes haiku about meals.
I think she is silly.


And finally dessert:

Mint cake is yummy
I will make some this weekend
And blog about it

Let's see what you come up with. Post a haiku in the comments!
 
 
Quack!

The Adventures of Mister Sinister : Tentative Tentacles

Did you know that one of my snails laid several clutches of eggs? And did you know that some of them hatched? I'm not quite able to get an accurate count, but I've counted up to 14 of the little guys and I'm sure I missed some. And just what do all those snails do in the tank all night long? Continue reading and find out.

 

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The fuchsia coral glowed softly in the tank. Several guppies swam lazily back and forth. But all wasn't as serene as usual. Why? Because 34 of Mister Sinister's 83 offspring inherited many of Mister Sinister's traits. Namely, they inherited his sense of adventure. It was only a few days ago when the little ones hatched. But it didn't take long for these 34 to exhaust the possibilities of the tank. It was only so big. There were only so many corners and plants and creatures to explore. And now, they were ready for adventure.

As the 34 little ones circled the tank restlessly and the other 49 hid contentedly under the coral and leaves and in dark corners, Mister Sinister peered through the glass. He saw no movement. The coast was clear. He slid silently up the side of the glass. 34 adventurous offspring followed at his heel. The remaining 49 stayed behind, watching silently, eyestalks quivering. Mister Sinister cracked open the cover, pushing with his shell and peered around the dimly lit room. The coast was still clear. He slid to the top, holding the cover open and gestured with his tentacles to the little ones. The scurried through the opening and down the side of the tank. When the last of the 34 tiny shells was through, he slipped out from underneath and followed down the side of the tank.

He slid quickly to the front of the queue and led them all down to the floor. He turned his eye stalks to the right, toward the television, then quickly away. No TV tonight. He turned left instead, under the kitchen table and across the kitchen. All the little ones followed. In front of the pantry he paused, considering, then continued. No chips tonight either. He continued into the next room, eye stalks scanning the room.

A snuffle and slight stirring from the far corner caught his attention. He stopped, tentacles quivering, then he continued forward. At the back of the room he slid up the side of a table, pausing to peer behind him. 34 tiny little shells, reflecting the faint light of a night light followed behind. He reached the top of the table and found what appeared to be a tank. A large tank with wire sides. His tentacles explored the surface, then he slid through the wire grate and onto the newspaper within. He turned his eyestalks down and scanned the page. Weather. Local weather from last week. Nothing interesting.

Suddenly, he was pushed from the side. He pulled his tentacles in and flexed his foot, grabbing onto the newspaper to keep from tipping. A flash of the television show he had seen recently flashed through his thoughts. Was he being eaten by a snake? Then he felt a light touch on his shell, a whispery tickle running over it. He popped his eyestalks out from his shell for a look. Above a large furry nose, two bright black eyes regarded him. Long thin whiskers twitched and he giggled, letting go of the newspaper and sliding into the tank a bit further to let the little ones in. All 34 little ones crowded in in front of him in a tight group and 68 tiny eye stalks gazed up in wonder at the animal before them. The creature made a soft squeak and a second one stepped out of the darkness, all fur and whiskers and bright eyes.

As one, all 68 tiny eye stalks snapped into 34 trembling shells. Mister Sinister slid to the front of the pack and reached out a tenative tentacle. The first guinea pig stretched out its nose, whiskers quivering and sniffed. Mister Sinister ran his tentacle along a whisker and the guinea pig squeaked softly. One by one, the little ones sent out eye stalks and tentacles, then slowly approached. Both animals remained still, sqeaking softly. One tiny snail slid up to the front and reached up with a grasping tentacle, curling it around a whisker. Then using its foot for leverage, it swung up onto the whisker, traveled the length of it and slid up and over the large nose and between the bright eyes. It perched on top, waving its tentacles triumphantly. At that, the remaining 33 did the same, swarming gleefully over the guinea pigs as they softly squeaked encouragement. Mister Sinister watched, swaying his tentacles back and forth.

A little one crawled down the furry creature's face and across a nostril. The guinea pig sniffled. She snuffled. She sneezed. Tiny snails flew in all directions. Mister Sinister laughed a silent snail laugh and set off to round up the little ones. It was time to get back. Within minutes, all the little ones were gathered together and Mister Sinister led them silently back to the tank. As they slid from one room to the next, they all turned and waved their tentacles. Fuzzy whiskery noses wiggled in return.

Then Mister Sinister and his little ones slid across the floor to the tank and up the side. Mister Sinister held the door open and they all dropped in and floated to the bottom like grains of sand. As they reached the bottom, 49 little snails slid over and gathered in a group around the 34, eye stalks open wide and shining, ready to hear about the adventures.

Quack!

The Adventures of Mister Sinister : A Trip to the Rainforest

Did you know that apple snails are tropical? They enjoy warmth, such as a nice warm aquarium. I would image that they also enjoy entertainment. And did you know that the bottom muscled part that they crawl upon is called their foot? It is. And that they have a 'shell door' - a hard flat structure they can pull in to seal the shell to survive drought and protect against predators? They do. And your reading pleasure and as evidence of these facts, read on:

(For the first installment in the Mister Sinister adventures, The Adventures of Mister Sinister : Snack Time, read here.)

The fuchsia coral glowed softly in the tank, just as it did every night. The filter motor hummed and the water burbled. The guppies swam lazily back and forth and the ghost shrimp skittered along the bottom. Just like always. Another calm and peaceful night in the aquarium. Just. Like. Every. Other. Night. What's a snail to do?

Mister Sinister's tiny eye stalk peered around the coral at the familiar scene. It was time for something new. Seeing that the coast was clear, Mister Sinister glided quickly across the tank, past Frisky and Whiskers, past the ghost shrimp, Creepy, Crawly and Crud Muffin. He slid up the side of the tank like a melting glob of ice-cream in reverse, dripping up rather than down. The guppies ignored him.

He carefully pushed up the aquarium top and peered around the room. The coast was clear - not a soul in sight. With a faint squelch as he curled himself over the top, and a faint tap as the aquarium lid dropped back in place, he was on the move - down the side of the tank, down the table to the floor. As he reached the floor he paused. He looked left toward the pantry and the potato chips, then straight ahead down the hall, then to the right. He glided forward a few inches, stopped, then turned right, leaving a slight, glistening right angle on the linoleum. After a moment he reached the rug and slid along it and under the arm chair. He was out of sight for several minutes then appeared from underneath, curled up the side and continued up and over the arm, across the seat to the other arm - the arm that held the remote control. He slid up to the top, to the power button and with every muscle usually reserved for holding onto his shell, he depressed the button. The room was bathed in a soft glow and a news announcer's voice broke the silence.

Mister Sinister, as quickly as his foot would allow, slid down to the volume button and lowered it a few clicks. A quick slide and he began flipping through the channels. News, more news, a commercial. He stopped, eye stalks quivering. A child leapt into a sparkling blue swimming pool and water splashed everywhere. The image shifted and a woman baking cookies appeared. Mister Sinister flipped the channel. A music video, a sitcom, a woman crying, a passionate kiss, a tropical rainforest, an infomercial for an ab-roller. He flipped back. A tropical rainforest - dripping water, a river, frogs and the soothing voice of a narrator talking about life in the rainforest. Mister Sinister was motionless, enthralled. His tentacles quivered. His siphon stood straight up. His eyes pointed straight ahead. Every appendage pointed at the TV in rapt attention. The narrator droned on about frogs, fish and wildlife of the rainforest. Mister Sinister was motionless. "Up next," said the narrator, "Tropical predators." A scene flashed - a large snake snapped up a frog swallowing it whole as the creature struggled, feet flapping in the snake's throat.

Mister Sinister's tentacles lurched, his siphon snapped into his shell. He quickly slid up to the power button, depressed it, and then slid down the chair side and across the rug to the floor as fast as his foot would carry him. He slid off the rug onto the linoleum with a jolt, then up the side of the aquarium, over the edge and dropped into the water, sinking to the bottom like a rock. He pulled in his shell door, sealing off the outside world. A slight tremble caused a mirage-like shimmer of water around his shell. Creepy, Crawly and Crud Muffin skittered over, pawing at the quivering shell for a moment before moving on. The familiar always feels safer than the wild, uncertain, unknown. Will he venture out again? Stay tuned.


Quack!

The Adventures of Mister Sinister : Snack Time

My son has two apple snails, Frisky and Mister Sinister. They are fascinating little creatures. I read that they will eat vegetables - kale, lettuce, spinach, etc, so I tried giving them some lettuce and then some kale. Frisky and Mister Sinister ignored it completely and continued to crawl all over the plastic plants. The other day, I noticed Frisky by the kale (which I had anchored down with a little gravel) and as I came closer for a better look I noticed he was under the edge of it, like he was hoisting it up with his shell. He wasn't eating it, he was uprooting it! A little while later I noticed the kale was floating at the top of the tank. All I can guess is that he wanted that nasty stuff out of his tank! Now! OK. I get it. They prefer algae covered plastic and fish flakes. I won't waste time with that anymore.

And did you know that apple snails have gills and a lung and that they can survive out of the water for several days, or even weeks? And that they are more active at night? It's all true.

And to illustrate the facts, the following tale happened one evening. I had turned out the lights in the kitchen and before going up to bed I sat at the kitchen table to watch the aquarium for a minute or two. I will often do this and just watch and listen for a few minutes to the soft sounds and gentle movement of the water, fish and snails. It's very relaxing. This is what I saw:

The fuchsia coral glowed softly in the tank. The filter motor hummed, a quiet undercurrent to the soft burbling issuing forth. Several guppies swam lazily back and forth. A ghost shrimp skittered by. All was quiet in the aquarium. From behind the coral, a beady little eye peaked out and scanned the tank from left to right and back again. Sensing no immediate danger, Mister Sinister slowly crept out from behind the coral, gliding across the bottom of the tank. He quickly reached the front wall of the aquarium and slid up it like a helium-filled balloon, graceful and smooth. As he neared the water line he slowed and gazed down across the tank below. All was as it should be in his domain.

He then raised his siphon and poked it out of the top of the water, breaking the surface tension and sending circles outward. He stayed there for a moment, siphon raised as if testing the air currents, then slowly he slid up, above the water line.  As he pulled himself off the surface, the water snapped back into place like a rubber band and undulated for a moment before stilling again. Mister Sinister stopped, as if listening then continued his upward journey. He disappeared behind the top plastic edge of the tank, but within moments, the top flap lifted ever so slightly and a tiny appendage poked out. A tiny, dim light shone forth and scanned the room from left to right, then down along the outside of the tank to the floor.

Mister Sinister crept over the top of the tank and began the descent down, following the light trail. He reached the bottom of the tank and turned, gliding across the top of the table on which the aquarium rested. Without pausing he slid over the edge and down and soon reached the floor. There was no sound except the continued hum and burble of the filter. The light again scanned the room from one side to the other, and then settled on the pantry door. Mister Sinister followed his light trail across the floor, to the pantry and disappeared beneath the door. A faint light shone out softly from the crack in the bi-fold doors. After several more moments of silence, a sharp crinkle and crackle reverberated through the room. The noise continued for several moments, then stopped. What replaced it was the sound of crunching. Mister Sinister had found the potato chips! (And I thought salt was dangerous for snails!)

After a seemingly endless time, the crunching ceased. There were several more minutes of crinkling and rustling, then silence. Before too long, the light shone out from beneath the pantry door, shining across the floor toward the tank. Mister Sinister, covered in a thin dusting of crumbs like new-fallen snow on a sidewalk, glided out from beneath the door and across the floor.

He reached the aquarium table and slid up the side, then up the side of the tank. As he reached the top, he turned and scanned the area around the aquarium. Seeing nothing out of order, he lifted the lid and slid over the side. The light darkened and went out and he slid down under the surface of the water, leaving a trail of chip flotsam and jetsam like a capsizing ship. As he slid quickly down the side, the guppies swarmed upward to gobble up the crumbs. They continued to snack as he slid across the bottom of the tank to his usual spot behind the coral.

Now I know why he never eats the kale and romaine I put out for him! He is full of something tastier!


Quack!