People don't read me blog - Poem: Crockpot - just noticed it was Hamilton Beach

Amazing how many people don't read my blog.

Am drinking one of them red Solo cups filled with Starbucks black coffee.

Flavor? None.

Submitted "Mailman Rachel" to Mad Swirl today. They DO like my work so I'm hoping for the best - takes em forever to reply.

Ran outside several times to put papers in the Yellow Plastic Bin.

Did my leg hurt? Wasn't paying attention bc it was too cold outside.

And, yes, I'm sitting here in my darling hat from CVS, and yes, I've gotta finish ESCAPE by 2:30 pm today for our reading group.

Scott gave me a huge bag of organic carrots.

"You can make carrot soup out of it," he suggested.

And so I am, in my old crockpot. Hamilton Beach.

You know my philosophy: why buy anything new. I can save the money and use it for my funeral. 

CROCKPOT

Put anything inside me and I'll cook it for ye
Today, a blustery day in March we've got
huge chunks of organic carrots, ugly as
the witch in the Wizard of Oz, but cooking
for our Ruthie, so she can have a quick
meal when she come downstairs hongry
hongry as a deep sea diver on the coast
of Carolina.

HAMILTON BEACH

How I remember frolicking on the beach
when we were younger
The waves, the surf, the touch
of your hands on my young slender
body, and then, by Jove, you
left me. Betrayed me. No matter.
You are dead now. And I still alive.

PS - In the kitchen I am listening to BECOMING MARIE ANTOINETTE, by Juliet Grey.

Amber colored eggs from HERITAGE BREED EGGS.

Diced carrots, squiggly noodles, and eggs.