What The Boys Are Up To

It should come as no surprise to you that I have this friend, Mr M. I mention him on those rarest of occasions here in the old blog.

Well, I speak to Mr M just about every single night, every night he's in town, anyway, and we talk about this and that, the important and the unimportant, but every single time we talk there's one particular question that will come up. Without fail.

"What are the boys up to?"

And by that he means, of course, Sherman and Peabody. It's a question as simple as asking how the family is, but it's a question he always wants to know the answer to.

And so I always tell him.

Now, most of you few loyal readers out there know that I have a small community of cartoon characters who've taken up residence with me at the Poderosa. And we have a good old time here, usually, except for those occasions like when Mr Peanut got drunk and chatted up women on my computer, and the odd time Gossamer eats something he's not supposed to, like, say, Lily my good luck baby. But it's generally a fun little commune we have.

In the beginning of Mr M's asking of the question, the answer was often the same. "What are the boys up to?" "Playing Chinese Checkers." Sherman used to be a great fan of Chinese Checkers, especially when he was nine (he's 10 now, you know, has been for the past two years), and he's very good at it too, even winning games over Mr Peabody now and then.

But Chinese Checkers turned out to be but a passing fancy, and now things have moved on. And so now the answers to the question are becoming a little more complex.

Like the time Sherman got his brand new cowboy hat. For a while the answer to the question was, "Sherman's in his hat, sidling up to me and saying, 'Howdy, ma'am!'"

And often the answer involves music. There was the time S & P were rehearsing for that benefit performance they were doing at the old folks' home in B'burg, and so the answer became, "They're practicing 'Sonny Boy,' with Sherman taking up a place on Mr Peabody's knee for the big finale." Or sometimes the answer is, "Sherman's got his clarinet out practicing his 'wild music' again." (He was inspired by jazz clarinetist Don Byron after Clarinetfest last year.) Or, "Sherman's practicing his scales." (He's a diligent practicer.) Or, "Sherman's in his lederhosen, playing 'The Clarinet Polka' and tap-dancing." (He's also a very talented little boy, in case you hadn't guessed.)

Then of course the reading club began, and so if it's a particularly quiet night I'll have to answer with what the gang are reading. Misters Peanut and Peabody have been re-reading "War and Peace" for some time now, and Sherman likes "Huck Finn," Huckleberry Hound and Lily are still enjoying "Dick and Jane at the Seashore," and usually Gossamer just eats a magazine. Or a paperback, if he's feeling intellectual.

Then if it's warm, I'll have to tell about how Sherman is outside riding his Vespa, or catching fireflies, or floating peanut shells down the creek. I have to whisper the last one, though, because I'm afraid that news might send Mr Peanut back to the bottle.

But occasionally things just go wild around here. A while back when asked, "What are the boys up to?" I had to be honest and answer, "Well, Sherman's standing on his head, wiggling his feet and singing, Mr Peanut is waltzing, alone, Gossamer, Huckleberry Hound, and Lily are doing The Limbo, and Mr Peabody is Morris dancing."

"Boy, there's never a dull moment at the Poderosa, is there?" came the reply from Mr M.

Just last week, I reported that Sherman was doing his geometry homework, Mr Peabody was working on a small piece of machinery for the WABAC, and Gossamer was chewing on Huckleberry Hound's foot. "Does Huckleberry know this?" asked Mr M. "No, he's asleep," I replied.

Only last night when Mr M asked about the boys, I told him that it was a fairly tame night and that while Mr Peabody was grading Sherman's homework, Gossamer was giving piggy back rides to the other characters. "Oh, that's nice of him," said Mr M, and then I had to admit that that may not be the case per se, that the guys were just climbing on him as he was slowing down, and he probably didn't even realize they were there.

But that's OK, because as a reward sometimes on Friday nights one of the characters will give Gossamer a makeover. Gossamer really likes makeovers.

Now, it's a really odd thing how this has all become such a natural part of my life. I mean, I know, and Mr M knows, and I guess most of you all know, that at the Poderosa, Wednesday night is Fish Stick Night. That's the night I head off to Community Band, and so everyone left here at home has Fish Sticks, Sherman's favorite food. Sometimes the two Mr Ps will have something a little fancier, say Smoked Salmon Sticks, but it's quite the Poderosa tradition.

A couple of weeks ago when I opened up my clarinet case at Community Band and who should be there to greet me but Sherman (he apparently stowed himself away in there after Oktoberfest rehearsal), T, who sits with me in the clarinet section, exclaimed, "But he'll miss Fish Stick Night!" And so I guess it's become a natural part of other people's lives as well.

At Band I sit in between T, the clarinetist, and Kellie, she of the oboe and acro, and we generally have a great time. And often the conversation will turn to Sherman, and Peabody, and occasionally Mr Peanut. T inquires about his sobriety. I think she worries. (His sobriety's going quite well, thanks, I know you all wonder from time to time.)

But just recently during our break at Band, the three of us were conversing and who should come along but the lovely L, who mans (womans?) the merchandise booth at Oktoberfest and also plays percussion with Community Band. And she caught the tail-end of a conversation that involved the boys, and wonder how Fish Stick Night was going and such, and the look of amazement on her face caught me quite by surprise. I mean, I thought she'd seen me lovingly bring Sherman and Peabody, in their lederhosen, to Oktoberfest and sit them there up onstage as a part of the Sauerkraut Band.

In other words, I was amazed that she was amazed that we were sitting there talking about the boys like it was old home week.

I guess it's just so common for me now, to talk about the red-headed boy and the genius doggie, and the giant peanut with the drinking problem, and the monster and the blue dog with the little hat and the good luck baby with a hole in her midsection where she was nearly swallowed alive, that I just assume everyone else feels the same way. And I'm constantly amazed when they don't.

It makes me wonder - am I crazy, or is everybody else? Because, you know I don't feel crazy at all. I mean, I'm part of the commune.

(By the way, as I was typing this very blog, Mr M popped in to ask, "What are the boys up to?" The answer tonight is, "They're indian wrestling in my overnight bag." They like my overnight bag for some reason. Maybe I should incorporate what the boys are up to into the Olympic Update.)

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners! So what was such a gyp?
- Honorable mention goes to LilyG, with her "Yes, no intellect, so denied grant."
- Runner-up goes to Flipsycab, with her "Yeller noticed immediately, something different. Gun!" Ouchies!
- And this week's winner is, once again, Funafuti, with what is possibly the best sentence ever constructed in the English language, "Yolanda never imagined she'd die gopherless." Not only am I mourning for Yolanda, but I'm thinking of making this my new email signature line.
- Thanks to all who played, you all did very well!