Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Cookbook Conundrum

I have a lot of cookbooks
that fill and decorate my shelves.
Yet when I want to bake or cook,
the internet is where I look.

Some of them are very old.
I keep them because they're odd
with strange ingredients, and measurements,
and preparation methods from abroad.

Some are from a place I lived
when I was growing up.
One is from my grandma.
One got chewed on by my pup.

Some are specific to my gadgets,
like five little bread machine cookbooks.
There's one for my old microwave,
that I got when I was learning how to cook.

Some are for the holidays.
Some are for when I'm on a diet.
Some are for serving children healthy foods.
But please don't tell them. Keep it quiet.

Some are from the famous chefs
I watch on Food Network.
One is autographed by Alton Brown.
My husband met him at his work.

I need a Paula Deen cookbook,
whichever one contains that recipe
I found myself drooling over
(The Lady's Brunch Burger)
that I watched her make on my TV.
(I think it needs a slice of cheese.)

I have a vegetable encyclopedia,
a book all about edible flowers,
one with recipes for eating Raw,
and one with recipes that cook for hours.

Every time I buy one
I aim to get rid of one I never use.
But when I'm going through those books,
I find it very hard to choose.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Monday, September 29, 2014

Upcycled Egg Carton Rose Heart

This was my fun project last weekend.
Mine is actually purple. Somehow my camera turned it blue.

This is what they looked like before I glued them together and painted them.
 Here's the link to the How To video

Friday, September 26, 2014

Baby Wants the Same Thing

Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly,
Lavender's green,
Her fav'rite color, dilly, dilly,
Now she'll be queen.

Mommy Princess was proposed to.
Baby Princess wants a ring.
Mommy's picking out dresses.
Baby wants the same thing.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Wedding

empty nest

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Painted Jeans

I dropped a brand new bottle of fingernail polish on my tile floor. It broke (of course) and splashed up the leg of my jeans. This is how I fixed them.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Dance with me, Oma!, part 2

Now she has 100 % of my attention.
That was what she really wanted.

She loves to dance, and color, and play with Polly Pockets.
She knows how to keep me involved and busy with only her.
She'll hand me a crayon, then trade crayons with me.
She'll have her doll ask my doll questions that I must answer.
She'll want me to dress them, then change their tiny rubber clothes.

She doesn't want me to sit beside her and play Candy Crush on my phone.
She doesn't want me to be looking through Facebook, while she plays alone.
She doesn't want me to be cooking supper, or washing dishes.
She wants my undivided attention, my hugs, and my kisses.

“Dance with me, Oma!”
All of it's a dance.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Friday, September 19, 2014

Dance with me, Oma!

“I want to dance.
Turn the music on.
Awwwh, Zeus is on the stage.”
(The two-foot, puzzle-edged, black, workshop floor pad square,)
I shew the dog off, and put the four squares together in a long line.
“Dance with me, Oma!”
We ballet-jazz-modern-I-don't-know-what dance across the stage together,
switching sides, back-and-forth,
to the old Dean Martin songs Pandora plays on our Grace radio.
Now she has 100 % of my attention.
That was what she really wanted.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

My Excuses

All these poets I read about
going for walks in the countryside.
I don't want to walk.
I want to stay inside.
It's too cold. It's about to rain.
The sun is shining in the sky too high.
It will burn my translucent skin,
and that is why I must stay in.

by:  Paula Dean Nevison