Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Catching Up

The tree is down to just the main trunk. It still doesn't want to die, and keeps putting out new branches. We want to take it down an end table height and put a chess/checkerboard on top of it. Next summer we want to create a small patio out front to include this area. My third daughter traded her F150 for a new car, a Subaru Legacy. My oldest daughter is engaged to be married in November. Had a great summer vacation, and visited with most of my family. Found out I have fractures in my lower back at L4-L5. Trying to lose weight and am down 10 pounds. Wrote a new poem:

I thought I'd go a-huntin'
Out past Grandpa's old field
To see what I could fetch us
Before the morning bells all pealed.

I staggered out of bed
At a quarter past four,
Stubbed my toe on the table,
And almost fell to the floor.

I limped into the kitchen,
And pulled on my socks and shoes,
Rubbed the sleep from my eyes,
And massaged my brand-new bruise.

A good breakfast was in order
To prepare me for the day,
So eggs and bacon and a tater
Were soon on the way.

I thought some pan biscuits
And some milk would go down fine,
So I sleepily scratched some up,
And still had loads of time.

But in my distraction,
The spuds and bacon both burned black
Yet somehow the eggs
Remained runny, raw, and slack.

The biscuits were crisp and brown
And looked sure to delight,
But I'd used talc instead of soda,
So the taste just wasn't right.

I needed a tall, cold drink
To wash that biscuit down,
So grabbed a cup from the cupboard
With my face fixed in a frown.

I poured a tall glass of milk
Skimmin' off the heavy cream,
But the milk had turned to sour
And I thought that I would scream.

I grabbed my shotgun off the wall
And headed for the door
Then tripped on the curled up rug
Layin'n on the floor.

As the clock on the mantle
Started chimin' out the hour
I put up the gun in exasperation
And headed for the shower.

It was plain to me that huntin'
This mornin' wasn't meant to be,
And that I'd better call it off,
Or see the end of me!


Delirious said...

Ha, that's the way I feel about hunting EVERY day. :) I'm anxious to see your tree table when it's done.

Inklings said...

Cute poem. Can I use all that for an excuse to never hunt? :0)

Nene said...

I remember one morning I was going to Seminary. Mom was waiting in the car for me and honking the horn for me to hurry. I had poured myself a glass of milk to drink on the way and just as I got to the foyer I took a drink - it was SOUR! My reaction was to immediately spit in on the floor, which I did. :0+ Then I sat the glass on the shelf by the door and went out to get in the car. (Mom had honked again by this time.) As we drove out of the driveway I said to Mom, "By the way, the milk is sour - and I just spit it all over the floor in the foyer..." I'm sure she wasn't happy with me, but she was more upset that the milk was sour. :0)

Stick said...

I had hoped that this poem would trigger some memories of Hatch, and Grandma and Grandpa. Things were bad there, like this, but some of the things come from the goods times we spent there.