The continuing exploits of Mr. Finnegan as he conquers the world with his cuteness.

A horse with no name.

The wind rushing past, my flowing locks streaming behind, the sun streaming down as I urge my steed onward into the unknown.

“Forward!”, I cry, “Ride like the wind my friend!”

We ride through the chaparral across the baked lands of the desert. Herds of unicorns and flocks of flying pigs greet us as we pass, on our way to save those in great need. Time is of the essence.

At last we arrive, my horse glistening with sweat. I am coated in the dust of the road, weary from riding for so many miles.

“My name is Finnegan”, I say, “Finnegan Wilde.”

“We welcome you Finnegan,” says a small man with his hat in hand, probably the headman of the village, “We have waited long for your coming. Only you can save us! Come, you must rest and eat, for you have much to do in the morning.”

I gratefully accepted his offer. There was plenty of time to discover the nature of the danger that awaited. Tomorrow can take care of itself, tonight we live like kings!

I have been most tardy in relating to my reading public the incredible circumstances of my having won the accolades of a nearby locality. Such a failing on my part, although not excusable in the least, can, I think, be at least explained, for I have been so engrossed in my duties of running, dancing, climbing, and pointing that I have all but forgotten my duties as they pertain to this blog. For this please accept my deepest apologies.

And now that the niceties have been attended to let me tell you the tale of an adventure I think unparalleled in the annals of humankind. It all began with Mother and her crafty ways, for she had set her mind to fashioning a costume that I was to wear in honor of the Halloween season. For this purpose she obtained materials sufficient to create the attire of a woodland gnome, and then so dressed me as to defy the observer to perceive me as being any other than such a mythical creature.

Who is that gnome?

Once dressed in this way a strange thing then occurred, for no sooner had I adopted the fashion of the gnome than I truly became such a creature. It is difficult for me to explain how such a thing could happen, but so indeed it did. I can assure you that I was most  assiduous in my gnome-ly duties, for I took to carousing the woods about our house with much gusto, and did also step into many a fairy ring of mushrooms. As you may have been told, stepping inside of a fairy ring is fraught with peril as the person doing so may be transported to the land of the fairies, and there meet with much confusion as to their location and circumstances. But as a true gnome I was at liberty to make use of these fairy rings for the purpose of transportation, and I did so use them, traveling many thousands of miles to lands far away to make contact with the dwarfs of Norway and the leprechauns of Ireland, but most especially with the ancient gnomes of Siberia, where my people have long dwelt.

My duties also included regular pranking of the “Big People” as we refer to humans, and I did my share of pumpkin placement and doorbell ringing.

What fun to leave pumpkins on doorsteps!

So I passed my time during these heady days of wonder and whimsy. I and my fellow gnomes did great wonders of cavorting and even many a gambol about the fairy lands. But then something happened that broke the spell, for I was captured from my state of wildness by hunters from the human lands. These fearsome trackers had tricked me by placing my favorite treats out for me to take, and then they snatched me up and trundled me into a waiting vehicle.

How long I was in this vehicle I know not, but when arrived at our destination I found that I was to be entered into a costume contest in Rainier Oregon. I then won the contest, and in the ensuing joyful celebration I scarcely noticed my transformation back into a young human child who but merely dressed as a woodland gnome.

In the days since I have often wondered at my life as a gnome and my friends of the fairy lands. I can now say that I am glad that Mother and Father rescued me from a life of pumpkins and pranks as there was always something missing from that life. I now see that it was the warm embrace of my family that was lacking during that time, and when the fey folk come to ask me to return to their lands I will decline.

However, if I ever find myself in need of travel I will certainly make use of the excellent system of transport by fairy ring. It is superior to common air travel in every particular.

I dance the dance of infinite space.

I dance the timeless dance of eternal being.

I dance the world into existence.

And then dance the world away.

Destroyer of worlds

Music is my muse, and rhythm is my rhyme.

And the bliss of joyful action is all.

In the words of my secret pre-birth namesake (David Bowie): Lets Dance!

I am a man of many hats. I am a gentleman of leisure, yet a gad-about-town. A world-weary traveler, but also a babe in toyland. But tho’ I wear so many hats in a day’s transit, there are some hats best not donned.

A hat too far!

This travesty of haberdashery was foisted upon me by some well-meaning ladies who accosted me this weekend last during my sojourn to the ocean. T’was in vain that they inveigled me to don such an improper cranial ornamentation. Not to don, but to doff! The next head cozy was more to my liking.

Where be gold?

I cannot say the how of it, but upon donning this hat I was overtaken by a powerful desire to take to the seas in search of adventure. I dare say but that if I had kept this hat on top of my head I might now be a pirate waylaying the unwary. My first act of piracy would be to chop off the head of anyone wearing the blue sequined hat from before!

After the fashion show of hats and such I went in search of solitude. On my lonely journey, far from the maddening crowd, I caught the glimpse of a handsome young man of scarcely my own age. I ran to greet him, embracing him as a brother.

Where have you been all of my life?

It was only later that I learned that he was only my reflection. I should have known they could never make two of anything so cute. Alas!

These were but some of the adventures I had this weekend past with Mother, Rebecca, Sara, and Jenn at the beach. Such a weekend it was, just I and three lovely ladies to entertain as only I know how. Did they ever stand a chance?

Hear me world: I thrive, I am alive!

On this Tuesday I had an appointment with qualified medical professionals who carefully assessed me at 10 days old and diagnosed me with the succinct statement: “He thrives”.

For this most satisfying of honors I must give credit to my ever-toiling mother who has stood by me all the way, feeding me every several hours whether I wanted it or not. I could not have achieved this great accomplishment by myself, and am indebted in great measure to her in this regard.

And what does “thriving” mean, exactly? In precise numbers it means that I was born at a strapping weight of 9 pounds and 11 ounces. As befits a new person of my station (i.e. “newborn”) I lost some weight during my first few days and reached a nadir of 9 pounds 3 ounces. If such a trajectory had continued I would currently be on my way to becoming a smallish figment of a child about to disappear into the ether. Instead, dining on a steady milk supply, I have rebounded in miraculous fashion to tip the scales at 9 pounds 15 ounces, one ounce shy of ten pounds!

I’m not very good at my multiplication tables as of yet, but I begin to worry that ten pounds in ten days could indicate that I shall proceed to gain a pound per day ad infinitum. I must needs consult with father on this point, as I do not relish the prospect of reaching 365 pounds at the threshhold of my first birthday!

One final note, if I may gloat over one additional achievement, I have revealed my fresh bellybutton as of this very morning. I have no idea what use this new “button” on my belly will provide for me, but I am more than ready to find out. Perhaps it will produce some variety of candied treats when pressed? I must investigate. . .