There once was a lady named Doeri, Who wanted to eat cacciatore, She broke her routine, By eating poutine, And posted the pic and the story.
This was inspired by a friend’s photograph on Facebook. Barry and I ate poutine with Kris a number of times, because it was the cheapest food item in the Lunenburg pub. “It has carbohydrate, protein, and fat,” I said. “A balanced meal!”
At Amazon, some geek must say,
“We’ll publish her book on this day,”
But til then, I wait,
In a trembling state,
To unveil before first of May.
I was ready to publish Strangers Have the Best Candy this morning, so I hit the big, scary “APPROVE” button on CreateSpace. Much to my surprise, the book doesn’t get populated to Amazon’s servers immediately! Argh!
The waiting is agony, but it should only be a couple of days at most.
What is this in the road? It’s a critter,
And although I slow down, I still hit her,
As she crumples in pain,
“She’s a bag!” cries my brain,
So I snatch her and then ride off wit’ her.
Strong winds were carrying all sorts of rubbish across the North River Causeway today, and from a distance, I mistook a trio of low-flying grocery bags for a herd of small animals. The first two got away, but I managed to catch the third one with my bike.
If you have not seen this short “mockumentary,” it is one of my all-time favorite videos on the internet, documenting the life cycle and habitat of plastic bags:
“Do I have to?” I whine and I cry,
As I stand under blue, cloudless sky,
But we’ve boiled every pot,
And the water’s so hot,
That my rain boots must keep my feet dry.
Barry buttonholed me today and asked me to to help him pour many gallons of boiling water over plywood (to bend it). This limerick is a fib — you can see from the photo that I love my rain boots. They’re cute and blue, like something Paddington Bear would wear.
The other photo is for my Washington and Colorado friends. It proves we have potheads here in Georgia, too.
I was feeling a bit of frustration,
And in search of a blood bank location.
But then yesterday saw,
At the town Mardi Gras,
The big bus for my tribute donation.
The Bloodmobile drove past us, behind a marching band and in front of a bunch of pirates with a cannon, in the St. Marys Mardi Gras parade. I didn’t think twice about it until I saw them parked at the end of the parade, between the children’s rides and the car show. Just about then, a hoard of biting gnats descended upon us, and Barry and I decided that it was better to donate the blood to a good cause — especially since it’s that time of year when we like to donate blood in memory of Becky Johns.
“Gnats are not a cause, they are an institution,” says Barry.
There are critical foods that I lack,
So I pedal with trailer and pack,
To buy berries and greens,
And some snappy fresh beans,
And it’s only 12 miles, out and back.
I admit, I ate a few of the strawberries while I was making the drawing below. I bet Cezanne and Caraveggio were sometimes tempted to eat the stuff they were painting, too. You can find thousands of beautiful fruit still-lifes on Google Images.
Rows of books on the shelves should allay,
My immense fears of failure each day,
For an author like me,
Published each one, you see,
And I hope my book joins them — by May!
I hope to have my book, Strangers Have the Best Candy, illustrated and ready for publication before my 50th birthday! If you want to be alerted when it comes out (as well as receiving my limericks and essays in your in-box), be sure to subscribe to the Meps’n’Barry mailing list.