Good morning to you as well
shortstopmom.
And this..."
Melekalikimaka to one and all!!!"
I'm not certain, but I think
Melekalimaka is the overall affliction I've been seeing my doc for lately. I could be wrong...it's tough to read his handwriting on his prescription, but I'm pretty sure it's
Melekalimaka that I'm wrestling with. If I turn and skew the note to the left, and squint my one good eye, it may read
Melancholy Maker...guess it doesn't matter much.
My doc's description of my symptoms goes something like this...
Freckles that don't really freck anymore.
Crow's Feet that even the West Nile virus threw up it's hands and walked away from.
Joints that are more conspiratorial than functional.
A brain so full of confused and addled and addled and confused gray matter that all it can manage to do nowadays is offer it's gray color to what's left of my hair...clinging like alpine lichen to my cranium. A brutal and harsh environment, but it still ekes out a niche...the daily survivors, tethered so tenuously, wondering when they will join their brethren on the shower's strainer.
Eyes that merely offer an opinion rather than the truth...they work and rely upon an increasingly erratic and sketchy memory and imagination to get by.
Ears that can still hear, but only what they want to hear. Some of it encouraging...some of it not too nice and all of it having to fight through that dog-hair thicket of stiff sentry hairs standing guard at the top of each ear canal. Thank goodness they aren't into spelunking because that could lead to some dire complications...it could drive you batty.
A nose that knows not even anything close to what it used to know. Ironically he thinks he's big stuff, but really he's just a blowhard.
A mouth that somehow has enough sense not to listen to any of the other senses...judging by the pronouncements that come shreiking out of it...oh...and equipped with a tongue that looks remarkably like a transfer shovel. And teeth that look like the whiskey stained and broken keys of a long silent and forgotten Old West barroom piano.
Shoulders that have lost their ability to carry the load. Slumped...beaten. But hey! The arms are still attached...and they work reasonably well. Who's complaining.
A chest as big and proud as a U.S.Army recruitment billboard...well it used to be that way until Ladybird Johnson and her beautification gang got their way. Now it's more like a tiny classified ad for citrus based hand cleaner in the low rent, back pages of Car and Driver.
A belly that literally inspired Herman Goelitz to roll up his sleeves and build his sweet Jelly Belly kingdom. Go Herman!
Plumbing that no amount of Liquid-Plumr® could possibly, even remotely, have any positive effect on. It leaks, makes rude noises at the most inopportune times, and is an unending source of grief and embarrassment. Can't be trusted.
Feet that aren't so fleet.
And a mind that thankfully, at least, knows it's own business.
So you see
shortstopmom...this is what I think
Melekalimaka means. You're probably going to tell me that it means something quite different...Hawaiian for
get a grip gotwood...quick!
Or perhaps it merely means
please pass the poi.
Oh...my well guarded ears somehow hear the phone ringing...
Who?...
From Hawaii?
Really?
Hello.
Yes, this is the Woodman.
You've been hearing what? That I've been making fun of the song.
No...I just didn't know what
Mele Kalimaka means.
Is that so?
Fascinating!
Yes...I've actually heard that tune before.
Yes.. I'll share it with the HSBBW.
At least I got the piano part right.
Thank you again
your poi-ness for calling and setting me straight.
Mele Kalimaka to you as well.
Mele KalikimakaMele Kalikimaka is the thing to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day
That's the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees to sway
Here we know that
Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimakais Hawaii's way
To say Merry Christmas to you!
Thanks for sharing those thoughts with us!!
