The purpose of the group is to provide support for people associated with the university world (academics of all shades, grad students, etc.) who find it difficult to prioritise things which are Important but not Urgent (in the Top Left Quadrant of a grid of same). Anyone can come play, just play nicely! We strive to "structure our days/in elegant ways" to make room for what really matters...
the grid
Wednesday 8 July 2020
For Daisy...
An initial sketch for your request... will try & work up something better drawn over the weekend but this was a fun end of day activity!
I've managed to get the mammoth to take a nap in its magical paddock while I do some hippogriff-wrangling. You may recall that when last seen, the Research Fairy was hiding under a mammoth ear counting his remaining sequins. At some point, I may apologize to him and see if I can get a little help on a mapping mission, but the hippogriff is stomping and snorting, and I hate to think of the effect of a sparkly little flying critter flashing through its field of vision (I am not sure what sex the hippogriff is. The mammoth is a female).
So imagine my delight (yeah, that was sarcasm) when a BollOx comes galloping up the road straight toward the hippogriff, leaving a trail of cotton fluff behind it. I have a split second to decide whether I'm getting out of its way or making a grab for its halter, and I take the totally insane second choice because even though I got landed with the hippogriff when I really didn't want it, I already think of it as *my* hippogriff. So I don't like to see it charged by a stinking BollOx, even though it could probably deal with the BollOx more effectively than I can.
I do get hold of the halter (I told you clumsy scouts don't last long), but that just leaves the BollOx and me swinging round each other in circles as I hang on and it backs up.
It is at this awkward moment that the Research Fairy emerges from the mammoth paddock.
"Good morning, darling!" he warbles. "The mammoth is napping, and I'm sure you don't want to give the hippogriff ALL your attention when you have me around. I have just enough sequins to re-spangle my wings if you'll help me stick them on . . . oh, you do look a little busy just now."
"What was your first clue?" I pant, still swinging on the BollOx's halter.
The Research Fairy flies right up to the BollOx's face. "Well, helllloooo, Big Boy," he carols, "look at all that lovely cotton fluff! Where have you been for the past month? I don't suppose you have any facial cleanser. Or body glue?"
Confused, the BollOx stops in its tracks and starts swishing its tail. More bits of fluff come off, coating me in grubby pale stuff---the Research Fairy is a bit optimistic about the uses of raw cotton bolls---but at least we're not going round in circles any more, and the Hippogriff, though pacing in its paddock, isn't actually attacking anything. The Research Fairy does something twiddly with his fingers and a lot of the cotton fluff coalesces into a sort of blanket, which then settles over the BollOx, head to tail. The BollOx settles like a bird with a cover over its cage, just as a recruit I take to be its handler finally hoves into view.
"Oh, there you are!" he says. "There's a meeting of the General Staff we're supposed to be at. I mean, your presence is required at an engaging interaction with intensely involved members of the upper-echelon management team whose entire concern is focused on the well-being of our magical, mythological, and merely extinct animals and their incredibly dedicated caretakers, not to mention our entire fantastic peace-keeping forces." He shoots me an anxious glance.
"Carry on, Private," I say, "and take this BollOx away with you while I deal with my crew of beasties."
"Scout, yes Scout!" he says, and they depart. The Hippogriff snorts and drops a patty. The Research Fairy wrinkles his little nose.
"Don't even think about trying to do anything with this disgusting unprocessed cotton," he says. "When you get a chance, do get me some nice cosmetic puffs and myocellular water, but right now, I think we can make do with some egg white and these sequins I found. Give us a hand, here, or I won't be nearly so impressive the next time a BollOx shows up."
What can I do? I'm spending the afternoon brushing egg white on the Research Fairy's wings and sticking his sequins back on.
meanwhile the stress canary is obsessively reorganising the remaining sequins, fretting over the unlucky number of lilac ones, and trying to straighten out the edges...
That's fantastic!
ReplyDeleteI love it!!! Thank you :) That is definitely a gift of unexpected laughter!
ReplyDeleteParticularly like the Canary Rant...
I've managed to get the mammoth to take a nap in its magical paddock while I do some hippogriff-wrangling. You may recall that when last seen, the Research Fairy was hiding under a mammoth ear counting his remaining sequins. At some point, I may apologize to him and see if I can get a little help on a mapping mission, but the hippogriff is stomping and snorting, and I hate to think of the effect of a sparkly little flying critter flashing through its field of vision (I am not sure what sex the hippogriff is. The mammoth is a female).
ReplyDeleteSo imagine my delight (yeah, that was sarcasm) when a BollOx comes galloping up the road straight toward the hippogriff, leaving a trail of cotton fluff behind it. I have a split second to decide whether I'm getting out of its way or making a grab for its halter, and I take the totally insane second choice because even though I got landed with the hippogriff when I really didn't want it, I already think of it as *my* hippogriff. So I don't like to see it charged by a stinking BollOx, even though it could probably deal with the BollOx more effectively than I can.
I do get hold of the halter (I told you clumsy scouts don't last long), but that just leaves the BollOx and me swinging round each other in circles as I hang on and it backs up.
It is at this awkward moment that the Research Fairy emerges from the mammoth paddock.
"Good morning, darling!" he warbles. "The mammoth is napping, and I'm sure you don't want to give the hippogriff ALL your attention when you have me around. I have just enough sequins to re-spangle my wings if you'll help me stick them on . . . oh, you do look a little busy just now."
"What was your first clue?" I pant, still swinging on the BollOx's halter.
The Research Fairy flies right up to the BollOx's face. "Well, helllloooo, Big Boy," he carols, "look at all that lovely cotton fluff! Where have you been for the past month? I don't suppose you have any facial cleanser. Or body glue?"
Confused, the BollOx stops in its tracks and starts swishing its tail. More bits of fluff come off, coating me in grubby pale stuff---the Research Fairy is a bit optimistic about the uses of raw cotton bolls---but at least we're not going round in circles any more, and the Hippogriff, though pacing in its paddock, isn't actually attacking anything. The Research Fairy does something twiddly with his fingers and a lot of the cotton fluff coalesces into a sort of blanket, which then settles over the BollOx, head to tail. The BollOx settles like a bird with a cover over its cage, just as a recruit I take to be its handler finally hoves into view.
"Oh, there you are!" he says. "There's a meeting of the General Staff we're supposed to be at. I mean, your presence is required at an engaging interaction with intensely involved members of the upper-echelon management team whose entire concern is focused on the well-being of our magical, mythological, and merely extinct animals and their incredibly dedicated caretakers, not to mention our entire fantastic peace-keeping forces." He shoots me an anxious glance.
"Carry on, Private," I say, "and take this BollOx away with you while I deal with my crew of beasties."
"Scout, yes Scout!" he says, and they depart. The Hippogriff snorts and drops a patty. The Research Fairy wrinkles his little nose.
"Don't even think about trying to do anything with this disgusting unprocessed cotton," he says. "When you get a chance, do get me some nice cosmetic puffs and myocellular water, but right now, I think we can make do with some egg white and these sequins I found. Give us a hand, here, or I won't be nearly so impressive the next time a BollOx shows up."
What can I do? I'm spending the afternoon brushing egg white on the Research Fairy's wings and sticking his sequins back on.
meanwhile the stress canary is obsessively reorganising the remaining sequins, fretting over the unlucky number of lilac ones, and trying to straighten out the edges...
DeleteOh my word, I spewed my tea at this wonderful saga.
ReplyDeleteOh, my. We need tee shirts!
ReplyDelete