monkey and his tibetan monk friends
He also watches over his neighbors until their house blows away, luckily they were unhurt. He's a good monkey.
m o n k e y - my new neighbors.
Update: 20 years later...hi monkey like so many things on the internet was an ephemeral creation and now lives in a place called 404 Not Found.
hi monkey reminds me of a monkey my three year old sister had. This monkey went by the name of Company G. One time Company G came up missing. Colleen was so upset. It seems like just yesterday she was crying, "Where is Company G. I want Company G."
I was a hero that day. I found C.G. on a basketball rim. He was playing basketball with some boys and got stuck up there. Company G was a sock monkey with a good sense of humor. We never knew where his name came from. I think Viola made him for Colleen and he just told her his name was Company G.
One of my daughters had a doll named Dean when she was little. Dean was a Cabbage Patch doll and also coincidently had the same name as my first lead engineer at work.
We had another nice fluffy animal who went by the simple name of Lammie or maybe it was Lambie. He looked like himonkey. He hung from the ceiling in our first apartment over Rachel's tiny baby easy-chair. He made a squeek when you moved him, had shiney black eyes and nice soft lamb-like cotten hypo-allergenic faux fur. I wonder where lambie is these days?
Have you ever read about a guy called the Skin Horse?
One of my friends gave me that book many years ago when I was a shiny coltish lad. It's so good.
An excerpt from
The Velveteen Rabbit
by Margery Williams
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
I hope you can get that book too. And that you have someone to read it to or read it to you.
Amazon.com: Books Search Results: velveteen rabbit
Have a wonderful Thursday kind and gentle reader.
Smell the flowers, eat a chocolate, let some sun shine on your face.
