Oobleck fell over Georgetown once in the 1960's.

[melannen]

So we're back in Maryland. I've typed up and backdated three entries I wrote on the trip. They are rather whiny because I wrote them when I had time-- generally when I was bored and tired. But I *did* have fun. Mostly. The most exciting thing that happened was when we stopped at a little gift shop at Sunset Beach and this black cat with lighter dapples poured himself out from the crawl space under the building and I swear he looked just like black oil creeping over the ground.

And we stopped to see Pop-pop on the way back on Father's Day, and he and Aunt Carolyn swapped artifical knee stories, and that reminded me of the last time we were there with someone with a bad knee and Pop-pop was making a huge batch of sausage balls so I asked Mom if we had the recipe and that inspired her to go out and buy all the ingredients and make me make some for the pot-luck church ladies' meeting tonight, so I did, and then she made me go to the meeting, where I explained viruses and defragging to Miss Jerry, who is annoyed at her computer, and thinks you have to take it to the shop in order to wipe the hard drive.

There has been a funeral every week this summer. Mom's going to another one tomorrow for one of the church ladies.

Aunt Carolyn said I should get a part-time job at the church this summer like she did when she was a kid. I told her I'm there three or four days a week anyway, and Mom said no I'm not, I'm exaggerating, this week I'm only going to go to quilting and the meeting on Monday. And church on Sunday, of course. And oh yeah, Game Night Tuesday night. Oh. She supposes that is four times. I keep asking Mom what inspiration I have to get a job when it seems like every day she comes up with something else we can do this summer "unless my daughter gets a job." We can go to NJ-- unless I have a job. We can go up to RI to see Sister-- unless I get a job. We can go on a long camping trip-- unless I get a job. We can go to Ohio to party with her sister-- unless I get a job.

Not to mention I took a long nap in my hammock this afternoon because it was so nice out that I couldn't bear to do anything else. I dreamed that stellar_dust was still home and she was teasing me about fic and she thought my current idea was really stupid. Well. Just because Mom got me thinking about childrens' books this weekend and I started thinking to myself:

When Skinner went out of the town for the day, 
He said to be good, 
Or he'd dock all our pay.
I sat there with Scully. 
We sat there, we two, 
In our room in the basement, 
With nothing to do. 

And then the phone rang and I picked up the call.
A friend of mine said, 
"I have heard of a fall
Of snow that's bright pink, just the color of ink.
Snow shouldn't be pink.
Not pink, I don't think."

And he thought that somebody
Ought to go see
Why it was pink
When it just couldn't be.
Somebody, somebody,
Ought to, you see.
Then he thought of two somebodies.
Scully and me.

"Pink snow?" said Scully.
"PINK SNOW?" she said.
"Mulder, I think you
Are out of your head."

"It's Fortean, Scully.
Things fall from the sky,
Like frogs and spaghetti, 
And no-one knows why.

And sometimes it's hail
That's shaped like a heart,
And sometimes it's oobleck,
And sometimes--" 

"Don't start.
Snow's colored by dust," she said,
"Dust in the sky. And whatever the reason,
It's not FBI."

"It's a mystery, Scully!
We ought to explore!
And I know that town's name.
I have read it before."

So I found the file.
"Here's what I recall!
There were ABC's there,
In that town, just last fall."

"ABCs, Mulder?
Like DEFG?"

"Not alphabets, Scully.
Cryptozoology.
It's a term that they use,"
I told her, "For a cat.
A big cat that is seen where no cat should be at.
Alien Big Cats.
They show up in a town
Where no big cats belong,
And nobody knows how."

In 
(I have to look up some true, yet Seussian place names for this verse.)



"A black panther here,
And a lioness there,
Or maybe it's one that has stripes in its hair.
And often," I said,
"There are other things, too,
In places where big cats don't live in the zoo.
Pets disappear!
Strange noises at night!
And sometimes the sky will just fill up with light!
And even--"

"And even," she asked me, "Pink snow?"
"I don't know!" I replied.
"Let's go find out! Let's go!"

---

We found the address. 
We found it all right.
But the snow wasn't pink.
The snow was pure white!

Scully gave me a Look.
A Scully Look that
Made me quake in my boots,
Made me hide in my hat.

---

"The snow fell that morning.
The snow fell quite deep.
I watched the kids shovel it into a heap.
But then, as I watched them,
They both ran inside.
I think they saw something and wanted to hide.

The next time I looked,
There were spots in the snow.
Pink polk-dot spots.
And they started to grow.

I couldn't see well
While the snow tossed and flew,
Like a blizzard was blowing
Except no wind blew.
And when it had stopped
And the wind was quite still,
The snow was all pink.
Solid pink! 
Down the hill.

I don't know if it fell,
Or rose up from the groud,
Or a pink-snow-bringing whirlwind
Whirled it around,
But I thought it was strange,
So I called my friend Art.
But he didn't tell you the most strangest part.
Because he didn't know
Because I didn't say
Because it happened after
I called him that day.
There was a bright light
That lit up the whole room.
And then came a noise.
A loud noise, like
VOOM!

And I looked out the window,
And down at their lawn,
And the snow was pure white!
The pink snow was all gone!

Today I learned: It isn't "Always a little and never a lot,/ or something may happen, you never know what."
It's actually "Never feed him a lot./ Never more than a spot!/ Or something may happen./ You never know what."

Current reading: A Fish Out of Water, by Helen Palmer, illus. by P. D. Eastman

Comments

Jersey

[theemptylife.livejournal.com]

I never did the Atlantic City thing, but Cape May is great because it is the birthplace of my future lover, Mr. Chris Carrabba. And Wildwood's boardwalk and amusement pier is terrific if for no other reason than the accents. Wildwood brings in shiploads of Irish people every summer for cheap labor, not quite sure why, but whatever. One of my fondest memories of Jersey was repeatedly getting on a haunted boat ride to make small talk with the Irish lady they hired to jump out and "scare" us.

Re: Jersey

[melannen.livejournal.com]

Why import foreigners though? Ocean City imports high school kids from the state who wat to spen the summer at the beach, which seems like the logical and efficient solution.

Re: Jersey

[theemptylife.livejournal.com]

I never really understood the thinking behind it myself. I havent been in about 2-3 years, but every year before that it was happening. So unless they've changed policies, then thats what they still do. I'm going to assume that the Irish like coming to Jersey and there's probably some kind of housing/cheap labor arrangement made.