The Curious Law of Thermodynamics

In the Madliverse, curiosity not only kills the cat, it buries it at the nearest construction site, fills the hole with cement and makes it the foundation of a fabulous 5-star hotel.

So it was with some trepidation when Sister Madly succumbed to her curiosity and asked Midori, a recent transplant from Japan, the question that had been plaguing her for days:

Dandelions untidy

What language do you think in?

But Midori thought it the most natural question in the world, just as she thought dandelions made the lawn look ‘untidy.’ She also despised the name ‘Chad’- which proved to be most unfortunate as irony would one day find her married to a Chad. Midori was one who could trace her family tree back many, many generations straight through samurai Japan, while Sister Madly’s family tree was once handed her on a yellow post-it and whose branches were as alive and lush as a twig in the dead of winter. This family sapling covered no more than 5 generations and scattered them across Europe, Asia and the Middle East- something which seemed to fascinate Midori.

opium bed 1

That was how the 2 of them found themselves lounging amongst the pillows of the opium bed at Utopia, debating over the proper pronunciation of the word Pączki*- until Management appeared, which resulted in the 3 of them lounging amongst the pillows of that antique opium bed, debating the proper pronunciation of the word Pączki. Similar debates would occur over the pronunciation of Gruyere, Reykjavik, and Jicama during the next several months, just a handful of the words they had both before seen, but had never heard spoken.

There was once an attempt to teach Sister Madly the Japanese language- and she is proud to say, to this day, she can still count to ‘1’ like a champ. Yet Midori steadfastly refused to teach her any Japanese recipes- “What is there to teach? Raw fish is not a cuisine.” In fact, Midori found America’s fondness for deep-frying anything remotely digestible as irrefutable proof that there is, indeed, a god.

*It’s pronounce POONCH-key. Say it: Pączki.

So it came to pass on the eve of Midori’s 22nd birthday that she and Sister Madly found themselves wandering the town, when…

“Oh my god- I’m so old!”


You know, Sister Madly once looked forward to the day in which she unintentionally frightened small children simply by being old. However, as Midori now finds herself ancient on the eve of her 22nd birthday, one can only concluded that Sister Madly has been laughing in the face of the Grim Reaper since the beginning of June.

Naturally this led them to the roof of the nearest parking garage that night with a roll of SweeTarts and some cider, doing that which all the Ancients find inevitable: discussing the laws of Thermodynamics.

Indeed, Sister Madly was untamable in those days.

But it wasn’t until they arrived back at Midori’s later that night that the conversation took on an entirely new meaning.

“Where’s my porch?”


The question was facetious, really, for one only had to look no further than the charred bits of wood smoldering at their feet to find said porch. Still, one could not help but wonder how the lovely wrap-around porch was suddenly reduced of a pile of charbroiled ashes without at least a note of apology.

That is, everyone except Midori.


There was no arguing with this logic, for obviously there had been some thermo involved in the removal of the porch; and there was no arguing that the dynamic of the porch had drastically changed. There was no arguing because of the few too many ciders Sister Madly had consumed not long before, and no longer found the topic remotely interesting.

However, when one removes the wrap-around porch from an old Victorian, one also removes the method of conquering the distance from the lawn to the front door. Fortunately- for Midori, at least- Sister Madly was able to offer up what remained of her strength and her brawn, and attempted to stand en pointe upon a stack of cinder blocks while she hoisted Midori upon her shoulders so she could unlock the front door.


This plan went much more smoothly in her mind, for in her mind, Sister Madly was skilled in ballet, had impeccable balance, and was not three sheets to the wind. In reality, her balance was as such that Sister Madly not only toppled Midori multiple times against the door, but multiple times against the doorbell as well- a doorbell that played the first few chords of Beethoven’s Fifth. Bet the landlord regrets that purchase now.

Still, it was the least Sister Madly could do; one simply cannot leave the elderly out in the frigid night air- that would be rude. Especially on her birthday.

*Midori tends to think in the language that she is currently speaking, by the way.

23 responses

  1. Ah, I love your anecdotal eccentricities ….everyone told is like opening a Christmas present and I am smiling all the while like an idiot as I am opening it wondering what wondorous gift did she get me this time… 🙂

    You are like Lemony Snicket in your conveyance of all events mundane to the magical…breathing in fun, mystery and certain spices that cannot be named or inhaled to sharply lest you sneeze gloriously….:)

    Liked by 3 people

    February 11, 2016 at 6:10 AM

    • Sister Madly

      Ha! Thank you!

      I hope for your sake that I don’t accidentally leave you a lump of coal on one such ‘Christmas’ morning!

      Then again, you can always roast a marshmallow over it… ;c)


      February 11, 2016 at 12:48 PM

  2. John Thursday

    My cursed true name revealed. The future is so uncertain.

    Liked by 1 person

    February 11, 2016 at 7:20 AM

    • Sister Madly

      You name is Jicama?! ;c)

      Actually, I kinda like that…

      Liked by 1 person

      February 11, 2016 at 1:31 PM

      • John Thursday

        I’m now wishing it was that. If I ever duplicate my mutant genes, I now have a name.

        Twice in one day I was exposed to my real name in forms of media. The second being a highly disturbing fellow in a squirrel mascot suit in an intentionally creepy park. Just don’t google my name. Ugh.

        F*^% you internets.

        Liked by 1 person

        February 12, 2016 at 8:19 AM

        • Sister Madly

          If it helps, I don’t think I’d ever mistake you for a squirrel- or it’s mascot.

          But I’ll avoiding googling your name- for the time being. ;c)


          February 12, 2016 at 10:08 AM

  3. Good morn to you Ms Moppet. You have caught me in an analytical mode with language under tones. Believe me when I say you, nor anyone would care to hear my “En Francais” at this time.

    It may be presumptuous of me but I think Chad was found hanging around in Florida. That’ll teach her to hang out where socks are just a rumour.

    Jicama … This is quite obviously one of the methods of camouflage employed by personnel at Hickam AFB to prevent you and Ms Midori from finding it. Cover that place up with green leafies and you’ll never find it!

    Perhaps being in advanced years you and Ms Midori forgot you were not to play with matches?

    It is good to see that you wisely eschewed the clanging of your own noggin! A fine plan indeed Ms Moppet!

    As I see no “chanson du thème”, and again this is perhaps due to your advanced years….. If I may.

    As always Milady, IDWIC.

    Liked by 1 person

    February 11, 2016 at 8:34 AM

    • Sister Madly

      So, you tend to think in French. I’ll keep that in mind, for what good it will do me. But one never knows.

      Being advanced in years, we know full well not to play with matches- we just do it anyway. Anything that catches fire is a deliberate act, as I had once made a promise to never accidentally set anything ablaze. I have kept this promise.

      And thank you for the theme song. I’ll blame it’s absence on advancing years, since everyone knows the memory really starts to fail after the age of 12.

      Liked by 1 person

      February 11, 2016 at 1:44 PM

      • Ah yes the age of 12, when scotch starts to get good and memory fails. Some people might see correlation there but not me.

        I only think in French for three reasons. The truth is my French is like the forward pass in football, three things can happen and two of them are bad.

        Kindly send some fire this way. It would be appreciated today!

        Liked by 1 person

        February 11, 2016 at 2:14 PM

        • Sister Madly

          I would airmail you some fire, but the Post Office strictly forbids packages that contain anything flammable. One of their delightful little quirks, no doubt.

          Liked by 1 person

          February 11, 2016 at 2:51 PM

        • mutter shiver mutter

          ph ph ph ph ph ed x

          Liked by 1 person

          February 11, 2016 at 3:01 PM

        • Sister Madly

          That’s you thinking in French, right?

          Liked by 1 person

          February 11, 2016 at 3:10 PM

        • yesm hehehe 😉

          Liked by 1 person

          February 11, 2016 at 3:15 PM

  4. I will take whatever’s wrapped in the box…. 🙂 thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    February 11, 2016 at 1:02 PM

  5. Jicama, a vegetable introduced to me in Florida. Quite nice. Pronounced hick-uh-muh. Stress on the first syllable.

    Liked by 1 person

    February 14, 2016 at 10:29 AM

    • Sister Madly

      Thank you! That’s much better sounding than ‘alien root-thing that starts with a J.’ ;c)

      Liked by 1 person

      February 14, 2016 at 3:35 PM

  6. It is pronounced ponchkee, without the additional ‘o.’

    Just sayeth.

    P.S. It is a lovely place you have here. And your sweet potato tagine is inspiring.

    Liked by 1 person

    February 14, 2016 at 2:28 PM

    • Sister Madly

      No additional ‘o’- got it! This is why I’m not bilingual- I can hardly speak my own language. ;c)

      And thank you!!


      February 14, 2016 at 3:46 PM

  7. locksley2010

    Awwww that’s cute! Midori thinking she is old at 22. Bless. Just wait until she hits her 30’s. ;D

    Liked by 1 person

    February 18, 2016 at 2:08 AM

    • Sister Madly

      Oh she should be there by now, and probably still looking all of 8 years old- unlike those of us who merely behave as though we are 8 years old. ;c)

      Liked by 1 person

      February 18, 2016 at 9:11 AM

      • locksley2010

        Is there any other way? XD

        Liked by 1 person

        February 21, 2016 at 4:59 AM

  8. Cute 😊

    Liked by 1 person

    March 25, 2016 at 11:28 AM

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