Moose had that book over there on the left when she was a kid struggling to understand why she had not been born in Paris, France, as the lord had clearly intended her to be. She didn't love Milne's collection of children's verses in the way she loved his more well known
works of prose, but there was almost nothing she loved as much as she loved
the stories of Christopher Robin and his beloved Bear of Very Little Brain. As read aloud to her every night by an adored father whose silky smooth voice was ideal for storybook reading.
We'll pause here while my typist recalls the sound of that long silenced voice, which made her delight in words like
Heffalump and
Expotition and helped her to believe in an enchanted place on the top of the Forest where love and play would last forever. Ah, yes.
Now we are six -- and by "we" I mean this blog and its readers, this quirky little possibly enchanted world that we have built together word by word, link by link, post by post when we should have been doing other far less pleasurable things. Thank you for being here and for making us feel that, whatever it is we are doing here, it's fun enough to go right on doing it, if not forever, at least for the next little while. We are
sure of you, as Piglet was sure of Pooh, and that, by golly, is good enough for us. Happy blogiversary, darlings. See you again soon.
* * *
We'd be remiss if we failed to mention here that Moose and Goose happily celebrated the twenty-eighth anniversary of their unlicensed love on
International Women's Day, March 8. The occasion was thoroughly celebrated on Facebook and out in the real world with a decadent feast in
a neighborhood joint where everybody knows your name. Thanks for all the good wishes, friends. And if you're feeling bummed that we didn't get up a proper anniversary post called Twenty-Eight Years of Queer Delight, well, go read
Twenty-Seven Years of Queer Delight,
Twenty-Six Years of Queer Delight,
Twenty-Five Years of Queer Delight, and
Twenty-Four Years of Queer Delight. That's a heaping helping of queer delight. We're hoping that will hold you till next year! Peace out.
Happy Birthday, Beloved Rox. You are hilarious, brilliant, and always make me laugh, and cry, and smile.
ReplyDeleteAlways yours,
Goose
Happy blogiversary, friends: see you in San Juan ( fingers crossed..)
ReplyDeleteNow We Are Six is the first poem I ever memorized. I KNEW there a was a special reason we are in sinc dear Rox and moms and her Rubyness! May the queer folk sing and dance with Milne, in the Paris of our hearts, in the meanings of all sorts of love, friendship and heart. Doors opening, everywhere!
ReplyDeleteHappy blogginess and felicitations and best wishes for many more happy years together :)
ReplyDeleteHappy anniversar(ies), and many happy returns of both!
ReplyDeleteThe object in the first picture above was known in my childhood household as "the brown pooh," to distinguish it from the "blue pooh" (the companion prose volume, also generally preferred in our household, and also read by the father therein).
Thanks for the delightful doggerel, Roxie. (Get it? DOGgerel?) Now I can't get "James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George DuPree/Took great care of his mother, though he was only three" out of my head. You must never go down to the end of San Juan if you don't go down with me!
ReplyDeleteHappy blogiversary--and blogiversary sounds like a Heffalump or something that should have appeared in a Milne bit somewhere, now that I think of it.
Halfway down the stairs is where a dog should sit.
ReplyDeleteCause if it's sitting elsewhere, you can't trip over it.
(Dudley the Beagle, who wonders if it isn't time for a little smackerel of something)
Happy blogiversary and anniversary and many more!
ReplyDeleteShitte man, I thought you were gonna be telling us that Ruby had puppies or something!!
ReplyDelete