I’ll admit it, I have a thing for bad poetry about food. Unfortunately, I seem to have overdone it lately. Sorry about that. I promise that this will be the last one for a while.

“Avocado”

Reptilian exterior

A fruit misunderstood

You carry a seed for the ages

And a creamy inside

So good

You pop with flavor

Just not for me

It’s okay we go separate ways

You be you

and I’ll be me

At work, I was being such a good boy. I had just entered some information into the computer. Now, I was scanning originals, so that I could recycle the paper and maintain only a digital file. What a good bureaucrat was I.

So as I scanned the small stack of papers, I placed the paperclip that was now unemployed between my lips. Sort of the urban equivalent of a farmer chewing on a long blade of grass (at least I think a farmer would chew on a blade of grass, because I really wouldn’t know, since I am all urban and such).

Finished with my scanning, I headed out of the copy room. Passing the big jar of paperclips, I removed my once used and recently chewed paperclip and tossed it into the jar to be reunited with its comrades.

Catching myself in mid step, I paused. I had just infected the entire jar of paperclips. My completely healthy DNA had recently lightly coated that paperclip. The same paperclip that was now impossible to distinguish from its friends.

Realizing there was nothing that I could do, I continued walking. My sin masked by identically bent metal. My mouth without a paperclip to chew.

Sunday morning, I bounded down the stairs. Time to fix some breakfast. Walking through the living room, I jumped. Someone was on the couch! Asleep, this out-of-placester disrupted my sense of normalcy.

Back to sleep, you! For this moment of Sunday morning quiet is mine alone. Back to your bed, Big Foot!

I couldn’t wait to take a bite. I knew however that I would need to wait. Painful memories. Memories of scalding hot cheese scorching the inside of my mouth. I needed to wait. Experience and age imparted patience.

After a few moments, I assessed the situation. The cheese appeared to have solidified. No more steam was rising. The greasy exterior looked cool to the touch. It was time.

I grabbed one and bit into the middle. Nothing. No satisfying flavor. Only a lukewarm squish. I had waited too long.

I had missed the magical sixty second window. That special time between blazing hot pain and cold sadness. My fear had caused me to miss. Miss and roll into a disappointing snack. I had missed the “Pizza Roll Sweet Spot.”

BLUEBERRY MIRACLE MUFFINS

“My job was to bring a snack to our morning meeting. I figured a batch of fresh blueberry muffins would do the trick. So before work, I whipped up some muffins. I even set one aside for each of my boys. As they came down for breakfast they looked pleased. I smiled.

Then as they left the table, they grabbed another muffin. The muffins intended for the meeting. I frowned.

The meeting went well and the participants had small appetites. Small enough that a miracle occurred, I had three muffins remaining. One for each of my boys. I smiled, again.”

1 3/4 cups Flour

1/2 cup Sugar

2 teaspoons Baking Powder

1/4 teaspoon Salt

3/4 cup Milk

1/4 cup Vegetable Oil

1 Egg

1 cup Frozen Blueberries

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

Combine milk, vegetable oil, and egg.

Stir wet ingredients into dry ingredients until just combined.

Fold in the frozen blueberries.

Distribute batter evenly between twelve greased muffin cups.

Bake for 12 minutes or until the tops are lightly browned.

Upon removal, top each muffin with a small amount of butter.

Use a small spatula to remove the muffins and allow them to slightly cool on a wire rack.

Makes about 12 muffins.

Revised Source – “Muffins” recipe in the Better Homes and Gardens “New Cook Book.”

“Arugula”

You surprise me

Sting my inner mouth

Bully move

Compensating

You’ll never be lettuce

Sad little weed that you are

#NPRPoetry

Tonight’s blog post was going to be about the ten minute meeting that I chaired earlier today. You see, I run a tight meeting, but ten minutes. Wow! That’s All-Star worthy.

Like I said, most of my meetings are crisp. Well, minus the mandatory five minutes of story telling and chit chat at the start. After that, it’s all business. Problem is that it makes for a boring post. See, you’re already bored.

Thankfully, a blog worthy story landed in my lap, well more like my ear, later in the day. Around 3:30, I received a call at work from my 10-year-old son Ben. Ben never calls me. It had to be important.

“Dad,” Ben began, “Kirby (our beagle) has some clothing in his mouth. It looks like he wants to go outside and bury it.” I suggested that Ben throw some treats as a distraction to grab the clothing. He indicated that the diversionary tactic failed. Acknowledging defeat, I told Ben it would be fine letting Kirby bury his prized possession. It must certainly be special.

Arriving home, I found out the truth. Our dog had entered the hamper for his prize. Something truly special. Yep, Kirby had buried my underwear outside. Buried treasure, indeed, for that pair of underwear was now worth its weight in (blog post) gold.

Thanks Kirby, I think.

Writing yesterday’s blog post, which wasn’t half bad, if I do say so myself, I glanced at my phone’s next suggested word. You know the one, the feature that tries to anticipate your next word. Well, this time it tried to anticipate my apparel. No kidding, see for yourself…

No kidding is right! A dress? “No kidding, if I was wearing a dress”?!? A bra?!? How does that apparel relate to a beef jerky scented candle? How does it relate to me?

Hey phone, got a second? We need to have a talk.

In the store, I found something amazing, something incredible, something beyond description, well almost. It was a beef jerky scented candle and get this, it’s scent was spot on. No kidding, if I was wearing a blindfold, I might have taken a big bite outta that delicious smelling candle. It was yummy.

Now get this, it was also reasonably priced. “How much?” Well, I’m not sure, but around $20 probably, because when I smelled it, I thought, “Hmm, fair price for something that smells so amazing.”

Ready for a shocker, I didn’t buy it! “(Gasp!) What?!?,” you just said. That’s right, I didn’t buy it, because common sense prevailed. You see, my wife would have smelled it and said, “Ew! Get that thing out of the house!” $20 would have been spent on approximately 2 minutes of joy, followed by months of asking for forgiveness. You see, I don’t know if jerky scent comes out of upholstery.

The End.