"Hot Together Wormy" Lyrics Get New Twist
If you haven't read Laurie's blog called "Quotable Kids," click on Ordinary Mother link in the sidebar, do read the post called "Hot Together Wormy" before reading this. (It'll make you laugh AND understand the following better.)
Maggie's lyrics made me laugh again as I was gardening this week--except there was a little twist to them.
Here was the scene: 120 degrees outside, wind gusts at zero, no shade, and out of town company coming in six days. Garden's a priority. I had been gardening since 9:30 and had only stopped for lunch and two short trips to Home Depot. At quarter till four, I was preparing the soil for petunias and mulch. Naturally I had to extricate a lot of weeds first, and was using a handy-dandy tool I call the claw. It's not THE CLAW as advertised on QVC, but it's a hand tool with three thick, sharp prongs on one end (for chopping thru hard clods) and a thick, sharp blade on the other (which makes quick work of tough weeds and digs small holes quite well).
So there I was, hacking and digging, hacking and digging, in a rather rhythmic, sadistic way with this vicious claw, when lo and behold I saw an earthworm wriggling and writhing six inches from the blade. Call me anthropomorphic, but I really do think I heard the worm scream,"Mercy! Mercy!" and, "Please let me rest in peace, not in pieces!"
I stopped my swing in mid-air as Maggie's lyrics rushed to my mind. But instead of "hot together wormy," the words I heard in my head were about keeping this "hot wormy together." I knew I'd be the worm if I split him, even if he could regenerate body parts.
I started chuckling, then snorting, then wheezing. And no one was around.The funny thing was it wasn't THAT funny, but I couldn't stop honking. That's when you know it's time to get out of the sun, hang up your tools, and hope your neighbors haven't already started dialing 1-800-WACK-0.
Maggie's lyrics made me laugh again as I was gardening this week--except there was a little twist to them.
Here was the scene: 120 degrees outside, wind gusts at zero, no shade, and out of town company coming in six days. Garden's a priority. I had been gardening since 9:30 and had only stopped for lunch and two short trips to Home Depot. At quarter till four, I was preparing the soil for petunias and mulch. Naturally I had to extricate a lot of weeds first, and was using a handy-dandy tool I call the claw. It's not THE CLAW as advertised on QVC, but it's a hand tool with three thick, sharp prongs on one end (for chopping thru hard clods) and a thick, sharp blade on the other (which makes quick work of tough weeds and digs small holes quite well).
So there I was, hacking and digging, hacking and digging, in a rather rhythmic, sadistic way with this vicious claw, when lo and behold I saw an earthworm wriggling and writhing six inches from the blade. Call me anthropomorphic, but I really do think I heard the worm scream,"Mercy! Mercy!" and, "Please let me rest in peace, not in pieces!"
I stopped my swing in mid-air as Maggie's lyrics rushed to my mind. But instead of "hot together wormy," the words I heard in my head were about keeping this "hot wormy together." I knew I'd be the worm if I split him, even if he could regenerate body parts.
I started chuckling, then snorting, then wheezing. And no one was around.The funny thing was it wasn't THAT funny, but I couldn't stop honking. That's when you know it's time to get out of the sun, hang up your tools, and hope your neighbors haven't already started dialing 1-800-WACK-0.
posted by Zoanna at
7:02 PM
5 Comments:
WE've been blogging too long! :)
We now live in our own little worlds that non-bloggers no nothing about and probably don't want to!
Zo, do you want to come do my front flower bed? It's a disaster. :( And, I live between two flower goddesses. Their plots are amazing.
I knew the Lord would get me w/ a dose of my own medicine...I meant to write "bloggers KNOW nothing about," rather than "bloggers no nothing about."
Bri,
You and I share an obvious fear that is way too trivial: the fear of typos! Since I knew I could never perfect everything I sent out in print, I told my English students I'd pay them a quarter for every error they found. Kept them alert, and me poor.
None of my family can sing that song on Sunday now without at least a fleeting thought of worms.
Joel sings it this way: "You're all togezzer yuvyee, altogezzer worry..."
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