Angst-y Poem

Here is a sort of angry poem for poetry Thursday, but I like it. I know I am ragin' . Laters.

 

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

Some Sweet Stuff

I am posting my Aunt Martha's Candy Bar cake for your tasting pleasure. She is a superb cook and a really fine woman. I have eaten many a delish meal made by her two sweet hands.

Please note: this cake is so good you just want to die….. I mean it. Laters

 
For the cake, we use the recipe on the back of the Hershey's cocoa can - - The Perfectly Chocolate Cake. The icing recipe is as follows:

8 oz. cream cheese, softened to room temp
1 cup of confectioner's sugar
1/2 cup of granulated sugar
12 oz. whipped topping 6 Hershey chocolate candy bars, coarsely chopped
 
With electric mixer, beat cream cheese and sugars together until smooth. With a spatula or large spoon, gently fold in whipped topping until well blended. Then fold in chocolate bars. Spread between cake layers and finish icing sides and top. ENJOY!!!

The Pictures

My Supreme Hotness

This morning, I viewed some pretty amazing pictures taken by my lovely, hot, talented, and delish sister-in-law, Areli. She, like most folks in this century, knows how to use photo shop. (I am not one of the most) I click onto my pirated version and draw a few scribbled lines, erase my eyes in attempt to remove red-eye; I then give up and post my pics as is, in their sad, unedited state.
I loved her pictures of the kids, especially the ones that I am including for your viewing pleasure, but I wondered if she might kindly edit the ones of me, so that I didn’t look 7 months pregnant. That morning, I had unfortunately chosen a billowy top that I thought was tres chic until I saw myself. I think “not flattering” would sum it up nicely.
Feeling decidedly frumpy, I went down to CVS to get a bottle of water and peruse the choices of canned delights for lunch. As I checked out, my “special friend” (refer to Mrs. Robinson blog) asked me, “Do you go to the gym?” I thought that I hadn’t heard him correctly so I said, “Excuse me?” He said, “Do you go to the gym?”
I laughed awkwardly and said, “Well, whenever I make myself get up. But I do try.” He said, “Well it shows, whatever you are doing is just enough. Keep it up, you look great.”
Oh yes, please massage my ego, you lovely, young checker at CVS, you. Tell me more about me and my tough, gym body. I want to believe you....I really do. As I floated out the door on my cougar high, the billowy top pictures were just a bad, bad memory. Laters.

Peter Pedi

I was taken back for my turn at the nail salon by a taciturn man named Peter, the only man in a shop full of women. I do not know if he was silent because of his misfortune to make his living massaging the calves of ageing matrons and giddy teenagers, or because he is naturally a quiet man, but we shared a bond, Peter and I.

He said "Good morning," and I said, "Good morning" and that was that; the sum and total of our conversation. Perhaps he knew that I am not one for endless chatter, answering questions about my life, opening myself up like a book to a stranger. Perhaps he knew that it was my day off, and he chose to let me enjoy it.

He directed my feet in and out of the water with gentle taps to my ankles and the process was smooth, ritualistic, like a dance step already memorized. I sat staring out the window at the cars passing by, drinking my skim latte; enjoying the opportunity to disconnect.

The shop only contained a few customers other than myself and Peter treated me to a longer than normal leg massage, never once making eye contact, never once acknowledging that I was there or that he was present either. I wondered if he liked legs, if he enjoyed seeing them, if it was a job perk.

When he was done, he passed me on to the nail tech, his face blank as I said thank you, his expression never altering. I was amazed at his ability to so thoroughly shut me out while performing so intimate a task and I cannot explain why this particular act impressed me. Perhaps I did not expect the disconnect to be so finite, maybe I like the chitchat, but don't want to admit it, maybe knowing that my presence meant nothing more to him than a check at the end of the day unnerved my endless supply of self importance.

I walked away knowing that there was a life lesson to experience, though I am still thoughtful about what it might be. Laters.

Rage Against The Machine

I like talking to inanimate objects, do you? I talk to my car, my computer, the dishwasher, my curling iron, and the list goes on.

I confess, they are not brilliant conversations, most of my dialogue consists of the single phrase," What is wrong with you, you stupid thing?"

If Sher is in the car, she promptly reminds me that "Stupid" is a bad word and that we are not allowed to say it. I am always ashamed to be a Mullins family rule breaker.

Please note that it is always the inanimate objects that are at fault, never me; the dishwasher door that refuses to close, the curling iron that shuts itself off, the computer that freezes or won't load FB.

There, I said it. I have inanimate object rage. I feel so much better…..I think. Laters.

Mi Casa Nuevo

I like my new house. It felt like home very quickly, though there are still many, many boxes to unpack. I took a break tonight since K and I are thoroughly exhausted. In the unpacking process, I dropped a bed frame on my foot setting up our bed. That really felt great, and I'm sporting a big bruise on the top of my foot.
My favorite thing is our new bedroom and my beast new closet. My shoes have plenty of room and they are extremely happy in their new home. I like to see them as soon as I walk in the closet and they like to be seen, so we are both pleased. The closet drawback is that K and I share and he is ((whisper)) messy. So we'll have to see how that goes. Laters.