An Ode to My Fridge
My fridge. It holds much more than food.
The memories are bad and good.
There's last week's salad, chicken, too.
Jam and jelly, something blue.
Condiments all need a toss.
Five mustards, catsup, A-1 sauce.
Champagne awaits the festive toast.
Beside it, Sunday's pork loin roast.
My meds are there -- two kinds to grip
And put into my IV drip.
Cold gel packs stored for aches and pains.
For when you fall or when it rains.
Science seems a passion, yes.
But hidden in a deep recess.
What evils lurk in pasta lost?
We will not know until it's tossed.
Dig a little deeper, find
Some old ice cream, a nice white wine.
Some shrimp, some peas, some pesto, too.
Something green that looks like glue.
An apple, soft. A lime so hard.
Liquid celery, old swiss chard.
A case of Tab, club soda, Sprite.
Really, it is quite a sight.
Weight Watchers pizza, Lean Cuisine,
All are stored in this machine.
Baking soda, flour too.
Gorgonzola, Parm and Blue.
I'd like to think should power fail
I'd clean it out. I'd have a sale.
The tupperware would have to go.
The rest to trash or compost sow.
But for now, I must suppose
When food is found, the door I'll close.
And maybe eating it down will
Reduce in part my grocery bill.
Hello, Bloggers -- I'll be by to visit as soon as I can. I've been knocked flat out by a pseudomonas bug that, combined with my chronic bronchiectasis, has moved into bronchial pneumonia. IV drugs and my breathing vest treatments take up to five hours a day and just getting going for anything more than a few hours is a challenge. And work doesn't stop, and by the end of the day I feel worse than I've ever felt. I am just so discouraged and depressed. But I'll get my Happy Girl Face back soon, I hope. At which point I will clean my fridge and visit my blog friends. For those of you who have been emailing me, thank you. You know who you are.