Now THIS is more like it!! The Super Siblings of Song are not to be underestimated, it seems . . . ;-) Wunnerful, wunnerful, wunnerful. Here are the oh-so-appropos Silver B.L.O.B.s:To Deda for her ruminations in rhyme:
My problems are genetic
And psychic and kinetic
And lots of other types
But I know I'd be a winner
Even as a rank beginner
I could eat you raw for dinner
If I only had the stripes!
And to Amos, our beloved bard of the b.l.o.b. for (. . . "why, hello ladies!" as the blind man said to the fishmonger . . .):
If I were a man-eater
In the fields of Puna
Would you drive me wild each night,
With the smell of tuna?
Can't wait to see what the rest of you come up with -- and Kevin, that's a wonderful poem, even if I cannot award you nary a Chip nor a B.L.O.B. for it -- but then, when there are such words wound 'round the wonder of the wild, well, what's a woman to do? ;-)
-- Áine