Welcome to Frizzy Lizzy's ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Hi dear friends and followers. Well another week has gone by and we know what that means. "It's Saturday, Frizzy Lizzy time!"

"Good mawnin', all!" Frizzy Lizzy says, stretching for all she can and yawning mouth open like a bottomless cavern. “And I'm hoping there aren't any flies in the vicinity.”

Lizzy slowly rises, shuffles into the kitchen and grabs a chair, pulls it out, and straddles it so she can rest both arms on the back of the chair. Resting her cheek on the palm of her hand she speaks, slowly at first.

“I think we need some coffee. It's a good thing that I set it up to brew before I got out of bed. Without my caffeine it's really hard to get going.

"You know, I think I have reached my expiration date. Really.

"Now that I am getting older I thought it was great that I seem to have more patience. Turns out that I just don't give a shit; it's all just a waste of time."

That reminds me that this weekend is Labor Day weekend in the U.S. And Canada, so here's a great big 'Hello!' to all of you moms out there! What's that? It's not Mother's Day? Well, given the amount of labor to have a baby I think moms should get a shout out for that bit of work!”

“Huh? Where's Charley these days? We had a big talk a few weeks ago and he told me that he wanted to have an 'open relationship,' so I showed him the door and threw his things out behind him. Yes, we still see each other but it's all in the daytime only any more.

"If I get lonely for another man around the house, Heaven forbid, I should first give my head a shake, then just throw some men's underwear on the floor and push all the blankets over to the other side of the bed. That'll fix that notion. Blow my nose and get that out of my head!

"The good news is that guys still like to look at my boobs - or do they do that out of force of habit when they see you're female? In my younger years thought that was their way of showing respect. How naive, huh?”

“Charley is coming over for Labor Day to do the usual 'man' stuff, you know, drink beer, ruin the lawn by pitching horseshoes, belch a lot, and cook things on the grill. In his case it's hard for me to tell where the real hot dog is – on the grill or behind it!

“He'll have some good company because Thanksgiving Day is coming early to my house. My turkey of a brother will be here along with my cousins, Slip and Slide, the 'Gold Dust Twins'.

I don't have a lock on losers. Charley has a few in his family tree who can't find their way out of an outhouse, especially his mom. They'll be there, too. It's nothing that a few apricot sours and some Valium can't handle.

OK, so enjoy the weekend and do be careful on the roads. I'm not driving so you don't have to watch out for me. See ya later! 

Thank you for dropping in and hope you all had a smile and a giggle form todays posting. Remember, laughter is the best medicine and may all comedians be blessed by all the good gods and goddesses. 

Composed by Cynthia ©

✿ڰۣ❤ In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady✿ڰۣ❤

HOW TWO INDIAN BOYS SETTLED A QUARREL

Good afternoon dear friends and followers

A bit of explanation is needed here. When the Indians spoke of a “moon” they meant a full cycle of the moon, from first quarter to first quarter.

Each moon cycle had a name that came from local weather, crop maturity, plant life, or animal behavior. The Berry Moon was the full moon we see in June and was so named because strawberries became available. The Thunder Moon reflected the weather prevalent in the month of July.

HOW TWO INDIAN BOYS SETTLED A QUARREL

Flying squirrel and Lightning Bow were two little Indian boys. They lived by Singing River, and played from sunrise to sunset. They were as happy as the day was long.

In the summer, they fished and swam in the Singing River, and shot their arrows into woodpecker and chipmunk holes. Sometimes they played “Dodging Arrows,” a game their mother had taught them when they were very young.

In the winter, they jumped into fleecy snowdrifts and rolled until their little bronze bodies took on a red-raspberry tint. Then they would send their snow-snakes skimming over the hard crust of snow.

Snow-snakes were small rods of wood, polished smooth with resin, oil or wax. They could be thrown long distances. Long Moose – Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel's father – could throw a snow-snake a mile and a half over the crust of snow. But the snow-snakes he used were eight feet long and tipped with lead.

It was the Moon of Berries. Six times had Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow seen the Berry Moon hang her horn in the night sky. And not once in all their lives had they quarreled.

One morning, Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow planned a foot race. Seven times they were to run. Three times Flying Squirrel made the goal first. Three times Lightning Bow had outrun him. The seventh race was claimed by each. No one saw them run, so no one could decide the game. And they fell to quarreling.

Louder and louder their voices were raised. More and more angry they grew

White Fawn, their mother, was baking corn bread on the coals of the wigwam fire. The angry voices reached her ears. She stepped to the door.

“For shame!” she called. “Go and set up your sticks.”

Then she showed Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel how to set up three sticks so they would stand for many days.

“Now go into the wood, set up your sticks, and leave your quarrel there,” she said. “When the Berry Moon has passed you shall return to see if your sticks are still standing.

“If they lean toward the rising sun, Lightning Bow was right. If they lean toward the setting sun, Flying Squirrel won. If they have fallen down, neither was right and neither won.”

Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel went into the wood and set up their sticks. They began to throw balls with willow wands, and soon were happy again.

The sun had risen and set many times. The Berry Moon had passed. It was the Thunder Moon when White Fawn said to Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel, “Today you may go into the wood and see if your sticks are still standing.”

Hand in hand, the two little Indian boys ran into the wood. They found only a heap of rotting sticks.

Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow stood and looked at the sticks. They thought and thought.

“What did we set up the sticks for?” each asked of the other.
And for the life of them they could not remember what they had quarreled about, and why they had set up the sticks! 


I hope that you have all Enjoyed reading this Native American legend. I wish you all a beautiful day. Comments, thoughts and queries are always welcome. Thank you.

✿ڰۣ❤ In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady✿ڰۣ❤

Progress? Poem on elven lore.

Good day my dearest friends and followers. For today's posting I have a poem based on Elven lore. A fictitious poem you may say, but is it really? Take a few minutes to read and draw your own conclusion. Have a great day 

Progress?

Once there was a peaceful people

who together with mighty nature lived,

spoiling little of the virgin wilderness.

Their homes, comfortable and warm,

were carved out of the living trees;

their cities, hidden there within,

Invisible to the stranger's eye.

Through the forest they traveled,

like a mist over the water at sunrise.

Without a trace they went on their way,

Peaceful and gentle people they were.

Speak of these people, ancient and wise,

It is of the Elves that you would be talking;

The caretakers of natural in their world.

They have no need or want for anything,

but today a war cry from the Elves is heard.

Listen to their trumpets as they blow!

Hear these noble people as they fight

to keep the land from which they will not go.

The invaders are brute and wastrels with nature;

not overly smart but not innately dull.

They smash the forest and all before them

with axes and saws and chains and plows!

The trees shuddered at their inexorable advance.

It is humanity, armed with technology,

driven by greed that comes!

Greedy to call theirs that which never was.

Within the forested ramparts the Elves are mustered,

Their soldiers with spears and horsemen with swords.

The shrill of the trumpet splits the air;

“Be at the ready, ye stout of our land!”

Their echo is heard from others all around,

A war's songs all will hear and never forget.

For their days of freedom have come to an end.

The battle is met with the clashing of steel;

the brutes have won; the city is razed.

Pain and grief and Elfin sorrow,

tears and mourning for the fallen ones

who valiantly fought for their tomorrow,

Which now will never be.

The Elves now condemned to forever roam

and to never make a place their home

save but for a year or two.

Still of themselves they selflessly give.

Now they wander in the place between worlds.

Sing, sing, Elfin people, in the forest that's dying!

Sing your own lament!

The Elves control the wind;

their hands guide the gales and tempests,

their flickering eyes, the breezes.

The Elfin wizards teach their students

the magic of the elements of nature.

A new day dawns.

Composed by Cynthia 

©

I hope that you have all Enjoyed reading this poem. I wish you all a beautiful day. Comments, thoughts and queries are always welcome. Thank you.

✿ڰۣ❤ In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady✿ڰۣ❤

WHY THE CHIPMUNK HAS BLACK STRIPES

Good afternoon my dearest friends and followers. today's posting is continued from Native American legends the world of stories the Iroquois told to their children.

Today's selection from “Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children” is truly a Wonder Story. You would never guess that such an important matter was dispatched as told in this story.

WHY THE CHIPMUNK HAS BLACK STRIPES

At one time, the animals had tribes and chiefs, like men. It was when the porcupine was chief, that a council was called.

A great fire was lighted, for it was night. When all the animals were seated around the fire, the porcupine spoke.

“Friends,” he said, “we have met here to settle a great question: 'Shall we have night all the time, or day?'” At this, all the animals began to talk at once. There was great confusion. The night animals kept shouting, “Night, night! Always night!” Others of the animals cried, “Day, day! Always day!” Still others called for “Day and night!”

There was so much noise that it could not be decided what was best.

At last the animals grew tired of calling. One by one th evoices grew fainter, and the shouting ceased. Of the night animals, the voice of the bear alone was heard. He had a big voice and still kept calling, “Night, night! Always night!”

The animals who wanted day all the time, and those who wanted day and night also became quiet – all except the chipmunk. He chattered on, “We will have light – and then night. We will have light – and then night. Chee, chee, chee!”

Then the bear, too, became tired. He was fat and lazy, and so sleepy! He thought he would take a short nap.

But all night long the wide-awake little chipmunk kept up his song. Not for a moment did he stop to rest. Out of the dark came his voice, sure and cheery, “We will have light – and then night. We will have light – and then night! Chee, chee, chee!

And before the animals knew it, the sun began to rise.

At the first rays of light, the bear sat up, blinked, and rubbed his eyes. He saw that while he slept, light had indeed come. He knew that he and the night animals had been beaten in the council, and that the chipmunk and the animals who wanted day and night had won.

The bear was very angry. He struck at the chipmunk with his paw. But he was clumsy and the chipmunk was spry!

The chipmunk laughed and sprang into a hole of a hollow tree nearby. But those black stripes on the chipmunk's back show where the paw of the black bear touched him as he slipped into the tree.

Ever since this council, and the little chipmunk called so long and so loud for “light and night,” we have had day and night.

Hi my dear friends I hope that you have all Enjoyed reading this post. I wish you all a beautiful day and a great week. Comments, thoughts and questions are always welcome. Thank you. 

✿ڰۣ❤ In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady✿ڰۣ❤

WHY THE ICE ROOF FELL

Good afternoon my dearest friends and followers. For today's post I thought I would bring you again to the world of stories the Iroquois told to their children.
Here's another Wonder Story from the Iroquois that explains a basic tenet of life for all Indians. You'll recognize what it is in the opening paragraphs of this story.

WHY THE ICE ROOF FELL

A great many winters ago, there lived at the foot of a certain lake a tribe of wicked Indians. These Indians were so fierce, and warlike, and wasteful, they went about destroying everything.

They laid low a tract of beautiful forest trees, for no good purpose. They tore up the shrubs and plants that gave them food and medicine. They shot their arrows into every bird or animal they saw, just for sport.

The great trees – their silent brothers of the wood – trembled and sighed when they heard these Indians coming. The squirrels darted into hollow trees, and rabbits flew in alarm at their footsteps. The deer and rabbit ran from the trail.

At last the Great Spirit became very angry with this tribe. Always he had taught the Indians never to kill an animal, unless for food or protection; never to fell a tree, unless for fuel or shelter; never to dig up shrubs or plants, unless for some good use.

“All life,” the Great Spirit had said, “is sacred and beautiful. It must not be wasted.”

And never before had he known Indians to waste the beautiful living things around them. The Great Spirit was very sad.

The ice formed very thick on the lake that winter.

One night there came a great storm of wind and rain. The ice broke loose from the shores, and the wind blew it down the lake. At the foot of the lake, a mass of ice was piled high over the shore, where lived these wasteful Indians.

Like a giant roof, the ice spread over the little Indian village lying there asleep, but the Indians did not know. They slept on, unaware of their danger, for a deep, heavy sleep had come upon them.
Just as the sun rose, the ice roof gave way and fell upon the sleeping Indians, crushing them in their wigwams.

The waste they had brought upon their brothers of the wood had brought punishment upon them. The Great Spirit had destroyed these wicked Indians, that the good Indians might keep his world beautiful.

Ever after, as long as the Indians occupied the country, before the White man came, no trees were felled, and no animals or birds were killed, unless for some wise and useful purpose.

I hope that you have all Enjoyed reading this post for my dearest friends and followers. I wish you all a beautiful day
and a great week my dear friends. 

✿ڰۣ❤ In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady✿ڰۣ❤

WHY THE WOODPECKER BORES FOR ITS FOOD

Hi dear friend and followers today I present to you another story from the series, the stories the Iroquois told their children.

My mother had a saying: “Never stifle a generous impulse.” She never said if that was advice for the giver or the potential receiver! Maybe this Wonder Story of the Iroquois can clear that up.

WHY THE WOODPECKER BORES FOR ITS FOOD

Once upon a time, the Great 'Spirit left the Happy Hunting Ground and came to Earth. He took the form of a poor, hungry man. He went from wigwam to wigwam, asking for food.

Sometimes he found the Indians sitting around the fire, telling stories and talking of the Great Spirit. Then th eman would pass by unseen.
One day he came to a wigwam in which a woman was baking cakes.

“I am very hungry,” the man said. “Will you please give me a cake?”

The woman looked at the man, and then at the cake. She saw it was too large to give away. She said, “I will not give you this cake, but I will bake you one, if you will wait.

The hungry man said, “I will wait.”
Then the woman took a small piece of dough and made it into a cake and baked it. But when she took his cake from th ecoals, it was larger than the first.

Again the woman looked at her cake. Again she saw it was too large to give away. Again she said, I will not give you this one, but I will bake you one, if you will wait.”

Again the man said, “I will wait.”

This time the woman took a very, very tiny bit of dough, and made it into a cake.

“Surely, this will be small enough to give away,” she thought, yet when baked it was larger than both of the others.
The woman stood and looked at the three cakes. Each was too large to give away.

“I will not give you any of the cakes,” she said to the man. “Go to the woods, and find your food in the bark of trees.”

The man stood up and threw off his ragged blanket and worn moccasins. His face shone like the sun, and he was very beautiful. The woman shrank into the shadow of the wigwam. She could not look upon his face, for the light.

“I am the Great Spirit,” said he, “and you are a selfish woman. Women should be kind, and generous, and unselfish. You shall no longer be a woman and live in a warm wigwam, with plenty of cakes to bake. You shall go to the forest and hunt your food in the bark of trees. Summer and winter you shall eat worms of the same size as the cake that you would have made for me.”

The woman began to grow smaller and smaller. Feathers grew upon her body, and wings sprang from it. The Great Spirit touched her head and it became red.

“Always shall you wear this red hood,” he said, “as a mark of your shame. Always shall you hide from man. Always shall you hunt for little worms, the size of the cake you made for me.”

At this a sharp cry was heard, and a bird flew into the fireplace of the wigwam, and up the chimney. As it passed out of the chimney, the soot left those long streaks of black which we now see on the woodpecker's back.

Ever since then, this woodpecker has had a red head, and has been hiding from man on the farther side of the tree trunk, and boring in the bark for little worms.

Thank you very much dear friend for visiting my blog, and hope you have enjoyed this short story. Comments are always welcomed and appreciated.

✿ڰۣ❤ With love from The Fairy Lady ❤ڰۣ✿

Take a Chance

Hi dear friends and followers, happy Sunday to you. Today is poem day and I have composed a special one for you. Enjoy the read.

Take a Chance

She wandered the forest since day's early dawn

But could not find her way.

The familiar land seemed strange and alien,

in ways she could not quite understand.

A beautiful girl, both graceful and fleet,

through the forest she ran, with the ease of a deer;

round and round in circles she went,

til finally she needed to stop and rest,

For even the elf maiden tires and wearies.

One would marvel at her fairy-like profile

As she lay in the grass under a maple tree.

Exhausted from running she put her arm under her head,

then she swiftly drifted into the realm of sleep.

She lay in the grass at peace, smiling,

her gentle face framed by her long, golden hair.

There was no missing her long, pointed ears;

silver toe rings adorned her sandaled, elfin feet.

What awoke her with such an urgent start?

The late day sun in the trees obscured her view.

Quickly, she pulled her hood over her head

For she had heard of humans, but never met one.

She thought it best that if they were nearby,

they didn't see her ears, lest the questions fly.

Then came a boy, about her age, it seemed,

A handsome, ruddy lad – was she still in a dream?

He hailed her: “Hello! Is all well by you?”

He called out with a little concern.

She understood the words but made no reply.

She stood transfixed and gazed upon him.

“A handsome young human he is!” she thought.

“A kiss from his lips would be like magic to me!”

Coming closer he asked, "Please lower your hood,

for just a moment, please if you will.

I desire to know the beauty hidden beneath.”

Reluctantly, she removed the hood,

revealing to him her long, pointed ears.

The lad stopped to appraise the unexpected - 

The girl began to blush and to replace the hood,

But the youth said, “No, no need for that.

They make you more beautiful and precious!”

He thought a kiss from her would somehow

set the sky afire with all the colors of the rainbow.

They embraced and lips met.

They knew then they could never be apart.

Forever would they be one.

She was a fairy’s child, delicate and sweet.

Each whispered word she changed into a spell,

that intoxicated by sweet magical scent.

For every dusk they would meet by the river's edge.

They kissed once more then she turned to leave,

then stopped momentarily at the edge of the wood to look back;

Then vanished as though she had just evaporated into the air.

Thank you everyone for dropping by to read this post, I hope you have enjoyed reading it. Comments and suggestions or questions are welcome.
Composed by Cynthia

✿❤ڰۣ With love from The Fairy Lady ❤ڰۣ✿