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Thursday, June 26, 2014

Pictionary Telephone The Party To Whom I am Not Speaking

When taking

A Vow of Silence

Does not

I Repeat

Does Not

Turn Out Well...

I talk too much. You may have noticed. On and On.

On the phone. Online. Email. Texting. In a crowded theater. In the line at the grocery store. At the pay window at Wendy’s. I chat. I visit. I share. I ponder and fret and as my mother taught me to do when I am agitated and anxious...use your words I do.

I talk too much.

I blog.

I tell stories.  Yard Yeti stories like the one below.

Oddly the refrain of an old tune is running through my head...the old Joe Jones tune...”You Talk Too Much”...remember the lyrics?? I do.

You talk too much

You worry me to death

You talk too much

You even worry my pet

You just talk

Talk too much

You talk about people

That you don't know

You talk about people

Wherever you go

You just talk

Talk too much

You talk about people

That you've never seen

You talk about people

You can make me scream

Hopefully you are not screaming yet, and your pets are not cowering in fear, but then I am only getting started.

First, the basic premise.

I love one to one correspondence.

It is important to me to be understood. 

And I cannot...cannot...draw a lick.

So there’s that.

Pictionary Telephone...???

Played it yet?

I did.

Last weekend. At a table with ten of my nearest and dearest. Each  holding a stack of ten blank sheets of paper. Simple instructions.

Start with a phrase. A line. A title. Anything. Your choice.

Your-keep-it to-yourself-don’t-tell-anyone-choice.

Now pass the sheet to your right. The person next to you must read your phrase, put it on the bottom of their stack and now draw an illustration to convey the meaning of your phrase.

Ahhh, the first ugly wrinkle. Illustrations.

After illustrating...pass to the right...and now we have Art Appreciation 101. Interpret the drawing and write a phrase.

Caption, if you will, to match the art.

And so it goes on and on around the table, until you receive your original stack in hand.

The hilarity begins as well as the humiliation.

But I must admit with greatest glee, I have never ever laughed so hard nor cared so little about being misunderstood.

Especially when I saw artwork, illustrations,
so incredibly worse than mine.

And captions so bizarre and so far from the original message...

Well, I blew a little Diet Coke out of my nose.

But only once.

Like when I saw this.

Or this.

Or this one…

This one even scared me a little...and I cannot tell you what the caption was...really I cannot.


Creepy arms...really creepy eyes...

But the one that did everyone in…

This...this one...

 I would ask you all to send me a caption for this one, but considering what WE came up with...I am afraid to ask...truly I am...

Because it left me speechless. For two solid hours I did not talk too much, I had my head down writing and drawing and picturing and passing and sharing and laughing so hard it hurt.

So the moral of this tiny tale is simple.

Gather your loved ones around the table. Pull up a chair.

Grab a pencil and be still...

For it is true...truly truly true…

Laughter...IS... the best medicine.

The Yard Yeti A Gardeners Tale continues...

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