It's a Barbie World

I don't know how old I was when I got my first Barbie doll. Five or six maybe. She was a tennis playing Barbie. She had sneakers and a tennis raquet. Not that I played with the raquet. Her arms didn't move and, well, there's just so much you can do when you're trying to shake hands with a raquet. She was no Bjorn Borg if you know what I mean.
On my 7th birthday I got what every little girl dreams of... the House. No, not the Dream House; the two story, white Victorian or whatever... I got the three story with the elevator. How cool was that?! Everyone loved the elevator... until the string broke.
Still, I loved my Barbies. I loved the house. I loved the clothing. I loved the purple corvette with the 8-track. And I loved my imagination.
During the Olympics, my Barbies were Ice Skaters or Gymnasts, doing terrific, dangerously innovating moves across the coffee table. Other times they raised hoards of children, taught aerobics, modeled or designed fashion. They ate dinner at their dining room table, and went camping under my bedskirt. They had family feuds, marital fights, mistresses and make-up sex.
Most of the time, I played alone. For hours. I'd shut my bedroom door and creativity oozed out of my fingertips. Every night was a new story. My imagination soared. I was content.
Then, I got a little sister. She liked Barbies too. But she wasn't like me. She didn't like stories. She had an attention span of a goldfish. All she wanted to do was change Barbie's outfits. She could go through both of ours combined in half an hour, and then she'd be out the door playing tag or hide-and-seek. Whatever. She was a product of the eighties, the Me Generation.
It's interesting looking back, and realizing what one could be content with. Oh, yeah, there was always that one Barbie toy that you just had to have. For me it was the Barbie pool. That would have been cool. Instead, I got the pink bathtub and toilet set. Hey, it flushed man! That was one cool toilet.
Who am I kidding? That was the dumbest toy I've ever received. I don't even remember who gave it to me, probably a psychological safety mechanism to save us both from the embarassment. I mean, seriously. In all my imaginings, I never once had Barbie use the loo. Who does that? Was it supposed to be a subliminal message of "Barbie flushes her toilet, so should you"? The Marketing Departmet's Hygene Team hard at work. I would bet money it didn't sell well. Why would a kid want that much "reality" in their play? There's no fun in that.
Or, am I alone in this?
I was watching Tv today. It appears Barbie has a new doggy named Tanner. Tanner poops, and Barbie uses a pooper-tong device to clean up Tanner's "presents". Nice. I guess... it does teach kids responsibility... and environmental friendliness... Yeah, I'm willing to bet that doesn't sell well either.

Summer's Over

Summer's over

Nature is dying
Children go inside to play
Rain comes pouring
Scaring the birds away

The leaf knows what's coming
In its last attempt it burns bright red
Screaming look at me one last time
Before I fall down dead

Exhausted it gives up its hold
Its graceful fall enchants
Then lands on a footpath
To be trampled by runners and ants

Fall has come
Life is over

When does a leaf cease to be
When it changes colors
When it falls off the tree
When it gets trampled by runners
Or when we can no longer see

Deer Whisperer

Near the entrance, or exit depending on my direction, of the Nature Preserve where I walk, there's a small clearing where the grasses are not even knee high. In this spot, every once in a while, as if the beauty of the Preserve was not reward enough, Nature surprises me with a gem.
The rustling of the leaves are my first indication. Then quick as a wink, she flies out of the bushes, hops to the other side of the path into the clearing. My gaze follows her graceful movements, and I see, not one, not two, but six deer standing about. I stop to gaze at their beauty, their innocence, their purity. They stop to stare at me.
What are they thinking?
What sort of creature is she? Is she friend or foe? Catch me if you can?
Minutes go by. I dare not move. How long will this picture perfect moment last?
I walk away, they scatter.