Kudzu League

Well at least I didn't belong to the Poison Ivy League...

Ah... Kudzu.

Blogland friend might could use a internet hug and a joke or story. Or maybe a puzzle.

Cryptoquote:

K  sy  fzkmf  eza  s  csgx .

 

K   fz   eza   S   csgx    cwvm   yr   zilkykby   kb   jvkmf 

izyyvgvn   jr   yr   ivbbkykbn.   K   sy   jilkykblkt

lwsl,  ke   K   csgx   esbl   vmzqlw, 

lwv zilkykblkt yv ckgg zql istv lwv ivbbkykblkt  yv.

 

Sl  gvsbl  X wziv  bz.

 

 

Wsmmsw Yqaiwr  *27 Siag 08

 

 

The above isn't gibberish or some ancient language. It's a word puzzle called a cryptoquote. 

Good luck.

No I didn't include instructions. This is to help you escape the difficult of the world. If that means going to find our what a cryptoquote puzzle is then great. Learning a new type of puzzle format takes the kind of mental focus that definately distracts. I'm trying to distract you.

Hope it works.

Ann

(hint:27 Siag 08 is a date. That's a generous clue.)

Let me know if you need the answer.

 

Another hint? 

The quote is by someone who is very near and dear to my heart.

 

Reply to comment.

LOL Thanks. I think. Hmmm Beautiful? Me?  No.

It's nice that you'd think that. I once talked to a fella for a long time. He reacted to the me inside. What I identify as "me". When he saw the me outside he was so disappointed. The great thing and the horrible thing about the internet is that we project so much of our own wants and desires and imagination onto  the person on the other end of the computer terminal or in the other case the phone line. It's sobering. When the fella told me that I didn't sound like I looked. I don't really know how to put my reaction into words. It reminded me of the story of two people strike up an internet relationship and then arrange to meet. Before they meet she would have described his sensitive nature and his beautiful soul. She made him her "famous" brownies like she said she would. And she waited for him to show up. LOL with her red carnation. Anyway.  In walks a fella in his sweater and bucks. She's a twiter. But he walks by not saying a word. Then in walks a biker fella. Harley tat. Black leather vest. Looked like a stevadore down at the docks. She caught her breath. Not in a happy way.  He walked up and in a voice she recognized he said hello. She'd never have given him the time of day. But being polite, she toughed it out. In my hopeful world they used the dumb luck that let them know each other on the inside and get past all the superficial. Experience has taught me different. Now I'd be surprised at the person who did get past the superficial. If I was beautiful or "butt ugly" it's who I am inside that is supposed to count. Unfortunately? I've never come across that person who actually can get past the facade.  

Thanks for the compliment though.

As for the quote. It's a quote by a character I created. Hannah Murphy. I based her on someone I knew when I was younger. A force of nature. But her words are mine. That's why I said she was near and dear.  The person who is having a bad day and could need a hug is someone that writes a blog here. We email each other. She, I assume she is a she, anyway she told me that her mother had Alzheimers and didn't want to eat. I felt bad for her situation and reposted a cryptoquote that I wrote. Hoping that it would get her mind off her troubles a bit.  I don't know her though.

Link to Hannah Murphy Check yer mail. Hannah in Blogland

Someone who writes a blog here told me that they came to the internet for a bit of fun. They didn't take it seriously. They told me that people come to the internet for all kinds of reasons. I should tell you my reason to be here. For me it's a quite place to write. Funny. Writing is meant to be read. Meant to be shared. Yet if left to my own devices I'd write quietly.

Alone.

I'm glad that you comment. Who are you? The regular you. The everyday. What do you do? What's your favorite book. What do you see when you open your eyes in the morning? What part of the world do live in? What's your favorite day? What's something you've done that you're proud of?

Me? I'm a mom and a writer. My everyday? I live out in the middle of nowhere. I write. Really do spend time with Walking Buddy and Pup. I thought at one point that I might be a sculptor. When I was really young I went to college and got a science degree. Worked in a family business for a long time. Went and flunked out of law school. Also went to art school but left there to raise a son.  When my parents retired and sold their business so did I.  Spent alot of time raising my son who really is beautiful on the outside and inside. I taught him to read. That's my proud accomplishment. The first thing he ever really read independently was an article about sharks in Diving magazine. Which along with the last time I'd been on the Gulf Coast are my favorite days. I taught him to read the same way that Ronald Reagan's mom taught him. We tandem read. I'd been reading to him since he was very very young. By two and 1/2 he had the first paragraph of Winnie the Pooh memorized he'd heard it so often. That's my favorite book by the way. Well one of them, I don't really have a favorite book. It's like music or children. I don't have a favorite. It's all good.

I live in the southern US. Never lived anywhere else. It colors the way I look at the world. Well that and my science degree. I'd have a tough time believing in a cult. I have my head in the clouds about alot of things. But being southern keeps my feet on the ground.  It also makes me "normal".  It makes me human.

And it gives me my accent which isn't really southern but more country. That's one of the things that folks notice. I've traveled alot in my life. People notice the accent and will talk to me because of it.  Oh  I love to chat with people. I'm always wondering who they are. If you and I met I'd know all about you in an hour. My dad says I get it honest from my mom. Actually I get it from work and from being by nuture very shy and by nature very curious. Well that and because, unlike what I write, in real life I'm very uncomfortable talking about myself.  Very uncomfortable with compliments. I'd rather talk about you than me anyday.

That's about it. No wait a sec...

The death of my first son,  the birth and life of my second son, two close friends (one who I should have married), being southern, my parents, my pups, my time living on the coast, working in my families business at a very young age, my maternal grandparents, my Great Aunt and my belief in God have in turns made me stand on my feet and brought me to my knees. Shaped who I am. I didn't figure this out until I was a grown woman. Like a cryptoquote, my life was complicated. Took along time to figure out that maybe I wasn't the screw up folks wanted me to be.

So, who are you? 

 

Email if you want.  If you don't know how to do this let me know in comments and I'll talk you through it. I hope you will. I'd love to chat

 

New comment

Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart” ~ kahlil gibran

Response.

 

LOL I keep telling myself that it's about the beautiful inside. I really do. But well, you know life it tells me different.  I wrote about this. The girl sitting in the chair.  I'll have to find the post and link it here. BRB

Haven't found it yet.

It goes something like this.

There was a girl sitting in a chair. Dressed in her very  best. Hair done. Legs crossed at ankles the way "properladies" do. She'd read that and knew it must be true.

In her lap, a beautifully wrapped package.

She smiled her very best smile.

And waited.

She's waiting still.

 

LOL No idiots, "...the box..." isn't a veiled reference to her virginity. It's her. The gift of her joy and spirit and friendship and  love. She's looking for "home".

Get yer mind outta the gutter ya' ejits.

Oh and I changed it slightly to fit. The other versions were toooooooo werdy. This is better. Like Kook's poems. Spare and to the point.

 

 

 

Next stop? Dear WFMU