I learned how to cut up a raw chicken 27 years ago by watching Martha Stewart on TV.
I spread waxed paper on the table and grabbed a kitchen knife,
The wrong kind, of course.
How was I to know the difference between a butcher knife, a paring knife, a steak knife, or any other kind of knife?
I watched Martha gracefully slice through the chicken,
Cutting easily through the bones
Without even getting any on her blouse.
I was a mess,
Hacking through the fowl thing like an untrained laborer cutting a log with a dull saw,
Chicken blood and muck spread all over me.
After the show was over and Martha declared her chicken a “good thing,”
My chicken didn’t look like her chicken.
My coffee table didn’t look like her kitchen counter.
And I didn’t look like Martha.
Then I cooked the chicken and cleaned up my mess.
I put on clean clothes and makeup and did my hair.
When my husband came home I served him the chicken,
And he loved it.
I felt like Martha Stewart.
Waiting for the annual tree disposal pick up.
Such a nice service for the community,
Saving us all a trip to the dump.
Standing on my curb I look down the street
At the dead, fallen forest.
What a sad ending to a season of home and joy.
We all move on, throwing out our hope with the trash.
Several years ago, I was driving home from visiting a client in a rural area and I noticed a cow running through a field, playing with her calves. It was a completely unexpected sight. Seriously, how often do you see fully grown cows running in a field?
I did a little online research on the subject and learned that while cows can run, they usually don’t run unless they are stressed (being chased, etc.). Yet what I saw was definitely not a stressed cow. It was most definitely a happy cow (and yes, this happy cow was a California cow). Here’s a video of cows running for pleasure (well, at least that’s what the folks filming it in the truck say it is – pleasure), so I know it’s not unheard of for cows to run for fun, but I can definitely say that it was an unexpected sight for me. It was such an unexpected sight that I pulled over to watch for a while. Continue reading Do the Unexpected. Be a Running Cow.
A writing group I belong to on Facebook is having a poetry marathon today. Because I love poetry marathons as a way to shake away any creative cobwebs, I have been keeping up and writing a poem an hour.
The way the marathon works is that members write a poem an hour, responding to a prompt (or not), and then post those poems to the group’s Facebook page. We read each other’s poetry and comment. It’s a small, nice community, and participating is fun. Continue reading Facebook Dilemma
My Magic Body
Aging, aching, limping, lumpy
My body speaks to me loudy
As I begin the sixth decade of my life
The mirror isn’t my friend
It’s more of an emotionless reminder
That life is constant change
And my body is my body
Regardless of how I feel about it
When I try to walkmy body feels
Heavy, resistant, unforgiving
But in the arms of a lover my body is
Perfect, sexy, powerful