Blah Blah Hands

(my pic, classical quote- also yes, my thumb is oddly long, and yes my nails are not well attended to bc I am a mommy, also yes, my office area is full of the things – no judgementors here!)
(or listen here)

A dear FriendHerisme has two lovely children. Her son is SonHerisme’s best friend, the other is a first-grade daughter. FriendHerisme and her husband are professional musicians – they are a super fun family and good friends to us.

Let’s call first grade daughter FriendEHerisme! FriendEHerisme sat with me at the boys’ soccer game, asking if she could draw Blah Blah’s on my hands.

The Blah Blah’s come alive when you make your hand into a fist with a straight thumb, wiggling your thumb up and down to make the Blah Blahs talk. We like to draw side knuckle eyes, nose, and a great gloppy tongue hanging out of their mouth. Occasionally the tongue gets so big that all they can say is, “blah, blah, blah.” Hence the name, the Blah Blahs. FriendEHerisme has been talking to, playing with, and feeding the Blah Blah’s (they eat the pens that drew them! How nervy!) since she was a teeny tiny human (as has SonHerisme, NiecesHerisme… and others).

At the soccer game, FriendEHerisme wanted both of my hands to bring the Blah Blahs alive and she wanted to draw them, so I allowed it. This is the way. FriendEHerisme has spoken.

My right hand was the boy Blah Blah, the left hand the girl Blah Blah (you could tell the differences because of the hairbow, says FriendEHerisme). Naturally, as soon as they were alive, they greeted each other, blah blahed at each other, and then they spent a lot of time kissing. Her parents are happily married as you can infer from the role play.

FriendEHerisme then decided the Blah Blahs needed something else (aka she was bored with the usual blah blahnesses). She drew a sunshine on the back of each of my hands, coloring them in with squashed up dandelions. Followed up with polka-dotted moons on my palms.

“Now what happens?” FriendEHerisme asked. I shined girl Blah’s sun down onto boy Blah and sang, “Mr Sun, sun, Mr golden sun, please shine down on me…” She opened up boy Blah’s hand and asked the moon to sing to girl Blah. So I sang, “The man in the moon is smiling ’cause he’s in love…” Then both suns staring at each other, “I’m burnin’ I’m burnin’ I’m burnin’ for you…” Then both moons staring at each other, “Moon, moon, moon shining bright…” And that was enough for FriendEHerisme to declare that the Blah Blah’s were done. She had them kiss once more, and that was that.

The Blah Blahs have seen SonHerisme through lengthy travels, emergency room broken bones, surgeries, general doctor visits, waiting for adult things everywhere to be over so that children things can rule activity levels again. Thank you sweet Blah Blahs.

Everyone is growing up.

The Blah Blahs are almost all gone.

*sigh* Bittersweet times.

I’m scheduled for my COVID vaccine. The world seems to be turning again. Today is SisterHerisme’s birthday (celebrated virtually, again).

Still feeling as though I am suspended in time over here, floating in some clear gel filled bottle- stopped, but not stopped, in time, watching everything out there moving onward and wondering how to be. Like time saved in a bottle. That’s an old timey Jim Croce song! If I could save time in a bottle the first thing that I’d like to do is to save every day ’til eternity passes away just to spend them with you (or something like that). Which I think is a love song (? bwahahahaha yeah blah blah blah). For me, I’d grab it for the sweet Blah Blah moments with SonHerisme, FriendEHerisme, NiecesHerisme and all of the sweet babes.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. I know Time in a Bottle is a love song and I know it isn’t for me, but also the phrase on its own seems like suspended time in loneliness or grief, which IS what I mean

Currently lost the bandwidth to find a therapist/counselor. It seems very daunting and expensive. Carrying on with the things…

blah blah ciao

extreme side note: I really really REALLY wanted to title this, “blah blah hand job,” but just could not do it because of the childrens. If you find it as HILFREAKINGlarious as I do, feel free to mentally adjust the title to suit your humors. (ridiculous plurals on purposes) loves to yous