If Trust Funds were Made out of Chocolate Cookies

The Dow would be doing fine, and I would eat my way into retirement.

Chocolate Cookies picture by Paolo Neo

Nilla Wafers and Milk-Don’t Be Glum

I sit down and enjoy about ten Nilla Wafers and a glass of milk. My tongue wiggles a few bits and crumbles out of my molars. A gulp of milk and my palate is ready for another cookie. All is fine with a handful of cookies. Try not to be glum these days.

Cookie photo by Paolo Neo

Renting Bowling Shoes

Why do you rent bowling shoes but use bowling balls for free?

Cinnamon Salt Water Taffy

I chew my taffy
Up and down
To the rhythm I step
Upon the boardwalk
Stuck to my fingers
Stuck to my tongue
Forty flavors
Mixed in my bag
Out pops cinnamon
Creek-creek I step
And gobble it up

Cinnamon Taffy watercolor by Andy Fletcher

You Can’t Wish For Friday Yet

But you can wish for 5 o’ Clock

Blended Margarita photo by Jon Sullivan

Can you Get me Some Coffee?

I’m catching up on Friday afternoon’s work.

Opus photo by Jon Sullivan

Freshly Squeezed Orange Juice

Freshly squeezed
Six nice Valencias
Beside my pancakes
The perfect sting
To compliment Vermont maple syrup
Sunday breakfast
With the funnies

Orange photo by Paolo Neo

Birthday Cake-You Are Never Too Old

The whir of the beater grinds the metal bowl. My mom dumps in two boxes of Betty Crocker white cake mix. It is my birthday. Crack, one egg, two eggs-it has been thirty-three years. She has made the same cake every one of them. Betty Crocker white cake mix, oil, and eggs. The beater grinds.
With precision, up swoops the Kitchen Aid. A quick twist and the silver bowl springs into action. A floured sheet cake pan awaits the gooey concoction; I await the drippy bowl. My mom pours and shakes the pan to even the batter. She spreads the top with a spatula; with an index finger I swipe Betty Crocker to my lips. The joy of adding another year is in the mix.
Rattle. The metal on metal of the pan as it hits the oven rack in a preheated 350-degree oven. The midday sun shines through the kitchen. I await the cutting of the top and my afternoon birthday snack-hot cake and freshly mixed icing.
Nothing fancy around our house. Crisco and box frosting- mom says that Crisco is the secret; butter is a little too strong. Pour the powder into a Pyrex bowl. Stir with a spatula. The warmth of the cake fills the kitchen. Only fifteen minutes left.
Timing is everything; let the frosting set. Get four bowls down. One for yellow, one for red, one for blue, and one for green; it isn’t a Birthday cake if it isn’t nice and colorful. This year will be a big locomotive; Andy loves his trains.
The aroma is unbearable as the buzzer goes off. Two oven-mits from the drawer and out it comes, onto the tile. I pour a glass of milk and the top is carved as promised. I politely borrow from the vat of white frosting with a knife. Ah, birthdays, you are never too old.

Barbecue-Eat It While Its Hot

Cheese and onions on top
Grill marks on the side
Burst when I bite in
The barbecue dies down
A hickory haze drifts through the screen
Get a little on my shirt
A lot on my hands
Dip some in the mustard
Crumble a few potato chips
And chomp down all at once
Summertime
Eat it while its hot

Chili- Jon Sullivan Photo

Coffee Refill

I drink a hot cup of coffee- three creams, one sugar. Tuesday morning goes in one ear and is affected by the brew. Am I putting the fifteen percent or more into a 401K that will brace me when I get to age sixty-five? Sip. In this moment I have pleasure. A bite of sweet roll and steam of arabica beans-how will the day effect me? Refill.