The Modern Prince

Sleeping Beauty

I meant to write a Very Tale as a funny version of Sleeping Beauty, making it a parody on fairy tale cliches. While writing, I forgot the humor causing the romance to bleed to death. Obviously humor plays a vital part in relationships....  In the mean time, a little trick was being played on me by a Higher Force.

"I rarely open the gate at the back of the yard, afraid my rabbit will escape. But now I can hardly reach it. The garden door I mean.  I have to crawl under the rosebush, which came from the wall and is sagging terribly.  I'm being held hostage by it !!   I feel like Sleeping Beauty. Should I put a note on the garden-door telling the prince on the white horse to simply ring the bell on the front door??  What if he's the pauper and I don't see through his scam? I think I might as well not open the front door either."

I wrote this three weeks ago and just let the rosebush go on blocking my way through the garden. Yesterday, looking at it from my attic* I noticed  that it was full of tender yellow rosebuds. OK, I thought, I'll let you live until all your flowers have finished flourishing.  

Below was the sound of breaking glass, of doorposts and window frames being ripped from the wall. I was getting a new façade.  -No, that's not a euphemism for plastic surgery, I'm still more into sleeping than being a beauty.- Instead of slaying the two headed dragon, responsible for getting the job done, I lavished it amply with coffee, to make sure the new windows and front door would be in place soon. The sooner, the better, right? Wasn't my prince on the white horse coming to rescue me from the raging rosebush through the front door? 

This morning only half the dragon returned to round up the renovation. The new door and windows had been in place already, keeping me safe from being abducted during the night. Now only tiny matters like lamps and doorbells needed to be replaced. Tiny but important if you expect a prince to come calling by the front door.

I lavished the one remaining head of the dragon just as dutifully as the day before. While having our coffee, we discoursed about rebuilding houses and the pleasant side effect of that on the selling price. "You must redo your garden too" the One Head advised me. I nodded and complained about my rosebush. A friendly shrug was the response. "I'll be finished around lunchtime and I brought an electric saw. I'll do it for you in no time."  I thought of the budding flowers and looked doubtful... I just didn't want to explain the half-dragon about my sentimental promise to the rosebuds, sensing it would not find fertile soil in him.

My guest practicably pointed out that the dumpster would be next to my house for a only a few more hours. He made my common sense win the internal battle. Unconscious of all this he went down the attic stairs, back to his work, promising me to cut the rose stems. The rest was up to me.

As I watched him retreat a little voice inside of me started to shriek with laughter, seeing the hilarity of the situation... here was my prince rescuing me from the spell of the rosebush! He didn't ride a white horse, but drove a white van. And he definitely had come through the front door!  

After having cut off the rose bush, and the fig tree into the bargain, the prince with the flushed cheeks drove off in his white van. Home to a lady who is already his second princess.  She wants a Siamese. But the prince prefers dogs, so she won't get her cat. He thinks.

He left me with an enormous tangle of thorns, not to be touched with bare hands. And a new doorbell. 
Which I desperately need. Because as soon as the rose bush was slaughtered, a dark knight arrived on the scene with his truck, picking up the dumpster. Way before I could move the rosebush out... 

It's still keeping me imprisoned and I have to watch it whither and die before blooming... a proper punishment for letting common sense win from romance.

 

* This lady has her living room in the attic, which comes as close to a tower as possible. 

Women

They come in various shapes, sizes and colours. They differ in sound, style and character. Fate has it that I'm one as well. I know it's not always a 50-50 chance, but I think in my family it was.

At times I run into a soul mate. A smile, a joke and immediately I know there's a sameness in spirit.

But other times.... I may sit next to a woman who makes me feel awkward. As if I'm excelling in boorishness, in unrefinement. Totally lacking in graces... These negative feelings about myself make it hard for me to like my neighbour. It's not fair, I know. These women, fellows of my gender, may not think so badly of me. It's just that I've been impressed in the late sixties -by those who raised or educated me- with what I ought to be like, not having been born a boy. This hampers me at moments that self esteem runs low....

Yes the opposite at times happens too. There are ways of being a woman that lie outside the range of my 'ambition' so to speak.

At my better moments, if I see  a woman smile to her youngster, play, laugh at a child's prank as old as life... give advise or just frown, mutter, jank or maybe even scold ... I know she went through those same last stages of pregnancy and labor like I did. Or maybe through the trials and tensions that make adoptions not easier and definitely no less loving than when nature has granted you the ability to have a child that is genetically related. I know this woman went through teething and the tantrums of the terrible two's, wondering whether puberty would really be worse than that...

Then I realize that deep down we are not so different, that we are resilient and creative creatures, curious and caring.

When I see anyone of us with a partner who is just not treating her -us- in a way I can call respectful, my toes curl in my shoes. Will she open her eyes, I question myself, and end up with someone else who gives her the respect she deserves -and needs- . Or better yet, will she be able to hang in and manage to uncover the gold she somehow feels must be residing in her counterpart ?

Because, despite of our difference in looks, manners and style, we are all valuable creatures.

Puberty and Peers

My 13 year old son is not 'pubering' in full swing yet, he agrees with me too often.   

[note: the dutch have turned puberty into a verb]                                                                      

His Royal Highness taking a nap

But the Persian prince definitely has reached puberty. He refuses to let [grand]father Joost groom his fur, so now his beautiful coat is becoming more ragged every day. The prince that looks like a pauper.... Time for me to take over from Joost.

The prince, his name is Diego but his owners call him Jake, is spending a lot of time downstairs with Mario, the cat with bi-coloured eyes, the cat that likes to fight with poor old Joost. The cat with the drinking problem. 

It is obvious to me that Jake takes Mario as his peer. Jake is now kicking the water bowl the same way as Mario does. And I'm sure Jake doesn't have Mario's fear of sticking his nose in too far. He just copies his friend's behaviour.

The Halloween Cat

  

I guess I live in a house full of weirdo's anyway.  My rabbit is very fond of cats for company, she tries to come close to them and sleep with them. She allows them to sleep in her cage.  Except for Jake. She doesn't see him as a cat... 

For birds she has zero tolerance. I've seen Plurkis chasing out magpies and caught her dashing out from the bushes, jumping on two pigeons.

So several times a week I fill a small bowl with cat cookies and put it in the garden, to attract some more friends for my rabbit.  But what did I notice from the corner of my eye last week?  A little blackbird standing at the bowl, swallowing the cat cookies... Plurkis didn't mind. Anyone who eats cat food is welcome!

Apologies for the quality of the clip. It was my very first production.

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(c) JoAnne Lakefield Jasper ;    May 2012