For the Turtle Lover in all of Us

NAIROBI (AFP) - A baby hippopotamus that survived the tsunami waves on the Kenyan coast has formed a strong bond with a giant male century-old tortoise, in an animal facility in the port city of Mombassa, officials said.
The hippopotamus, nicknamed Owen and weighing about 300 kilograms (650 pounds), was swept down Sabaki River into the Indian Ocean, then forced back to shore when tsunami waves struck the Kenyan coast on December 26, before wildlife rangers rescued him.
"It is incredible. A-less-than-a-year-old hippo has adopted a male tortoise, about a century old, and the tortoise seems to be very happy with being a 'mother'," ecologist Paula Kahumbu, who is in charge of Lafarge Park, told AFP.
"After it was swept and lost its mother, the hippo was traumatized. It had to look for something to be a surrogate mother. Fortunately, it landed on the tortoise and established a strong bond. They swim, eat and sleep together," the ecologist added. "The hippo follows the tortoise exactly the way it follows its mother. If somebody approaches the tortoise, the hippo becomes aggressive, as if protecting its biological mother," Kahumbu added.
"The hippo is a young baby, he was left at a very tender age and by nature, hippos are social animals that like to stay with their mothers for four years," he explained.

Monday Night Photo

The obligatory kiss picture that so frequents the blogs of 20-something young sexy librarians.
(If you look very closely, you can see Joey’s eyebrow ring glinting like a tasty fish lure, minus the bait. )

Or, if you prefer, the anime version:

To Summons

I am listening to David Bowie’s “I’m Afraid of Americans,” and for some reason, I am reminded to promote Sharsta’s new blog; same bat format, same bat style, but shiny new bat-free address.

So, please visit Sharsta, the patron saint of Hockey boys, as she writes duel posts in languages that we cannot even begin to pronounce, let alone understand. (Thankfully, she graciously gives English translations so we don’t all feel like biting our nails in worry that something important was missed, and that is among the many reasons why we should all love her.)

Question

How did it get to be October 10th already? Wasn’t it just July?
When did Autumn so silently sneak into my bed?

Hob-knobbing Day

Highlights:

- Early morning snuggling and strong coffee.

- Drank white, gin and tonic and sips of martini with the new co-workers.

- Met Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg at ImaginOn’s Donor party. (Her husband, Edwin Schlossberg, designed the main art sculpture.) I shook her hand, told her I was working and only had a moment but wanted to meet her, and asked her if she played with the Story Time computers (a feature of ImaginOn that allows children to write and draw their own story with photos or games). In hindsight, I felt shy and ridiculous asking such a thing, but she said she enjoyed playing on them, and was very gracious.

"A Prayer for the Fruits of our Labour " Or, "Persephone’s last Bite*"

“Every woman wants her adventure to be a feast
of ripening cherries and peaches, Marseilles fig,
hot-house grapes, champagne shuddering in crystal.
Happiness, we believe, is on sumptuous display.”
- Edward Hirsch, from the poem “Colette”

Such voluptuous and supple ideals
And so tenderly do we desire
textured teardrop shaped figs oozing
with trapped sunlight or wine
tasting as if pale sand worn stones
from cold rivers have chilled
the bitter rot of grape into
sweet and biting

Isn’t it more than the adventure
Being ripe or being decrepit
in swirled brown vine
being between pomegranate seeds
or being quietly solitary, a twist of body
on wooden Sunday morning pew

We lash the last of faded
doll gowns to blenders
of peaches and cherry clichés
have lashed the small yellowed lace,
robes of bride, nurse, madam
in stained fruit skin
And come harvest, swallow
eagerly the pomegranate
seeds out of Hades upturned palm,
slightly sticky.

We rip memories into citrus pieces
tearing each slice for a hint of sweetness or
foreboding of tomorrows rotten air, the scent
of decay reaching our nostrils as we linger
paralyzed in lucidity

Come harvest, or come bleak winds,
fragile frost and withered vine
will crackle with disease,
and beneath his unloving fingers snap
and break for riper fare

we will cling to vines till we rot
until there is no fruit but a
spoiled apple blackening
the top of the refrigerator
an expired can of pineapples
in the pantry that smells like pepper
Until we are voracious with hunger.

* Persephone is the goddess of the underworld in Greek mythology, daughter of Zeus and Demeter. She was kidnapped by Hades and fed seven pomegranate seeds which bound her to the Underworld. Demeter was outraged, and the earth ceased to be fertile. Zeus intervened, and Persephone was allowed to return to the earth part of the year, which became Spring. When she would return to Hades, winter would fall on the earth as Demeter mourned.