Girls Hunt In Packs

Girls hunt in packs

They sniff out the weak ones

By the scent of insecurity

Like blood on the air.

They like to play with their prey

Taunting

Teasing

Before tearing her apart 

With their painted claws

And their sharp teeth behind glossed lips.

Girls rarely kill

They prefer to maim

Then watch the injured struggle

As they laugh.

You can hear them whisper

As they approach

They don't try to be stealthy

They know she won't run

There's nowhere to go.

Girls hunt in packs.

submitted to One Shot Poetry Wednesday, Week 39 at One Stop Poetry 
also submitted to Photograph Prose

Warm Fuzzies!!!

Warm Fuzzies abound this week!!! I've been nominated for another Versatile Blogger award by Dragonkatet. Check out her beautiful blog, Dragons's Dreams and her awesome poetry.

Mouse Droppings was also the featured Poetry Blog of the Week on Poets United. This is a great site for all levels of poets to read, post, and share poetry. It has weekly prompts as well as informative articles about writers, poets, photographers, artists, etc. Great place to hang out. Do visit.

To accept the Versatile Blogger Award, I will share my 7 facts about myself in verse this time:

My birth sign is Capricorn; that is the goat

I have 2 doggies, on whom I dote

I can't digest lactose so I don't drink milk

I mostly wear cotton but I do love silk

My eyes are brown and so is my hair

Although there are many a gray one in there

And I'm very nearsighted so glasses I wear

As for my nominations for the Versatile Blogger award, I hereby nominate:

• Versebender: http://versebender.wordpress.com a   delightfully clever and funny collection of poems to make you smile

• Elaine at Hidden Heartbeat: http://hiddenheartbeat.blogspot.com a collection of thoughts, ideas, and opinions set to rhyme. many fun and unique poetry forms. check it out!

Thanks to all who made my week so warm and fuzzy!!!

Thankfulness

T hough my

H opes

A nd dreams may be humble

N evertheless, I cherish every

K iss

F rom you like an

U ncommon

L avaliere

submitted for Thankful Tuesday at Tingtasy

Neurologic Ballet

image courtesy of  Roger Allen Baut

Silvery thin threads

Dance an electric boogie

Nervous energy

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry

Lisa

image from Magpie Tales 59

Does your mama know you're hangin' around, Lisa?

Does your daddy know that you've been downtown, Lisa?

You've been ridin' with the boys in fast cars

You've been knockin' back at all of the bars

Is that any way for a good girl to behave?

Well you're always wearin' a smile, Lisa

But are you cryin' all the while, Lisa?

Because the boys, they talk about you

And the things that they can make you do

If your grandma heard, it would send her to her grave.

What's behind that smile you wear

Mona  Lisa?

Does anybody really know ya'

Mona  Lisa?

I've watched you since you were a kid, Lisa

And I won't tell your daddy what you did, Lisa

But don't play me for a fool

While you're breakin' all your mama's rules

I know where you go when you sneak out at night.

What's behind that smile you wear

Mona  Lisa?

Does anybody really know ya'

Mona  Lisa? 

You're a legend in the halls, Lisa

Your number's written on the walls, Lisa

But I think you're more than just a smile

Can we talk for just a while?

And maybe I can get to know ya

Mona  Lisa.

Tuscany

Life is slow; the grapes can grow

We stroll among the olive trees

And feel the gentle mountain breeze

This land I've quickly come to know.

Barn swallows swoop down to below

They steal our bread with studied ease

Life is slow; the grapes can grow

We stroll among the olive trees.

Each morn we hear the rooster crow

See sunflowers taller than our knees

Each sun's alive and hums with bees

No clock to dictate ebb and flow

Life is slow; the grapes can grow

We stroll among the olive trees.

submitted for Poetry Potluck, Trips, Travel, and Vacation

                    Experimenting with Poetry Forms, Rondels
One Stop Poetry, Rondels II

Ponytail Girl

I watch you trudge off
To your first day of school
You've got your bangs dyed red
Hanging over one eye
You're dressed all in black
With skulls on your pack
As I smile at my baby
With a tear in my eye.

And I thank God you're not a ponytail girl
No one's brand name is blazed
Across your chest
Although you've got looks
You'd rather read books
And if a boy tried to hassle you
You'd lay him out flat
Thank God you're not a ponytail girl
You're above all that.

submitted for Poets United, Think Tank Thursday, 41, Uniforms and Service

The Folly of Love

image source

Miss Dolly was a dancer

She was famous for her fan

She worked at Ziegfeld's Follies

Where she kicked up a can-can.

As she performed one evening

In walked Mr. Big

He took one look at Dolly

Said, "That girl has a new gig!"

"I want her for my honey,

I want her for my squeeze,"

His offer to Miss Dolly

Was not one at which to sneeze.

Miss Dolly was not haughty

And she could have used the dough

But she still rebuffed his offer

Said, "I must simply tell you 'No.'"

Mr. Big could not believe it

No one ever turned him down

This dancer would not make him

A big joke around this town!

He roughly kissed Miss Dolly

But on her face felt something weird

Underneath her make-up

Was the stubble from her beard!

Mr. Big was not so big then

He'd need a new game plan

Miss Dolly was his folly

Because Miss Dolly was a man!

 

 

submitted to The Poetry Bus for Monday, March 28

Battle Creek Cypress Swamp

photo by Temari 2010

The trees are older than our cares

I walk beneath a cypress sky

I hear the barred owl's plaintive cry

And soon forget the day's affairs.

The birds and frogs sing joyful prayers

 The breeze breathes like a lover's sigh

The trees are older than our cares

I walk beneath a cypress sky.

I spy a young deer unawares

 The cypress watch us live and die

The creek keeps flowing by and by
Its secrets with the earth it shares

The trees are older than our cares.

submitted for: One Stop Poetry Form-Rondel

                     One Shot Wednesday-Week 38

                     Thursday Poets Rally

Jabberwocky II: This Will Slay You!

image from Magpie 58

And so what of the vorpal sword

With its tiolver* blade?

The beamish boy did wield it well

The Jabberwock, he slayed.

Post frabjous day, what happened ere

The Jabberwock was gored?

What dersmate fate would soon await

That mighty vorpal sword?

"A trophy case would be the place

For the sword I cherish!"

His mother shook her stivent head

She thought that far too garish.

And so the vorpal sword it went

Beneath the bed to store

And quickly became covered in

Dust and dirt and more.

image source

Until one day twas brillig

With spring cleaning in the wabe

And mumsy became milicarb

At her messy beamish babe!

"This stuff must go! Heave ho! Heave ho!"

His room glowed as if glossed

But at the end of tidying up

The vorpal sword was lost!

Now don't you worry, curious kitts

I'll tell you where it went

I found it at a yard sale for

Two bucks and fifty cents!

And so that sword it hangs today

Above my own berld bed

And if a Jabberwock attacks

I'll just cut off his head!

submitted for Magpie Tales 58

* My made-up words are from various "captchas" and word verifications I've had to type this week
inspired by and apologies to Lewis Carroll

Drink Up!

Raspberry Cosmopolitan

 Sweet Alcoholic Treat

Pinkly Delicious

Fruity Cold 

Its Glass

Iconic

The

*

S

T

E

M

*

A

Thin Finger

Beckoning "Come"

Submitted for Experimenting With Poetry Forms, Week 11, Shape Poetry

 

Ode to Imperfection

photo by James Rainsford

I find perfect things
     Disheartening
     Unapproachable

Perhaps that is why I prefer
     Rough drafts
     First tries
     Unpolished gems

Full of passion that hasn't yet been edited out

I never loved the pretty boys
     With the perfect skin
     And calm blue eyes

Better the disquieted ones
     With tumultuousness barely hidden
     Or maybe a scar
     to lend a bit of asymmetry

I know the David to be
     A great work of art
     A masterpiece
But I cannot seem to love it
     For it is too perfect

But take a marble statue
     Worn and weatherbeaten

And perch a bird on its head
     Like a feather in a jaunty hat

And I will love it all the more.

submitted for One Stop Poetry, Sunday Poetry Challenge

Perigee

image source

The moon full and close

Like a toy ball stuck mid-bounce

In the black tar sky

The Ouija Board

A gaggle of giggling girls
We gather again
Sit in a circle
Behind a closed door
On the cold, pink bathroom tile

We are
     HUSHED
By our leader
And owner of the game
Made to remember and repeat
Our oaths
     Of HONESTY
    And SECRECY

The question is posed
The light switch is flipped
     then DARKNESS
Nervous laughter
     Shhh...

We gently place our finger tips on the pointer
And wait
Our heartbeats pounding loudly in our ears
And quickly in our still boyish chests

Then
Ever so slowly
The pointer begins to move...

submitted for Magic in the Backyard's Wish Jar

Thank You!!!

I'm so excited! I recently received another Versatile Blogger Award nomination from kshawnedgar , a terrific poet whom you should mos def check out! I know I'm supposed to nominate 15 more bloggers, but having just done so, my brain is fried. I will, however, dredge up 7 more "fun facts" about myself.

1. My name "mouse" came from my squeaky laugh which was mercilessly evoked by someone named Andy in high school Physics class nearly every day.
2. I am Jewish and my husband is Italian Catholic. We celebrate a lot of holidays and eat well!
3. My favorite color is pink (don't hate!)
4. I spent many early Saturday mornings in colleges as an escort for Planned Parenthood.
5. I hate horror movies! My friends dragged me to see the Excorcist in high school and to the famous steps in Georgetown that the priest fell down, and I don't think I have ever recovered!
6. I hated reading in grade school until my father gave me his copy of Catcher in the Rye. It is still one of my favorite books.
7. My favorite jellybeans are the black ones.

I do have one person to nominate for the Blogger award. She is a prolific writer, very thoughtful, and has a lot to say about herself, women, and the world she lives in. I nominate Olivia at http://oliviasbiopiclog.wordpress.com/. Check out her blogs. I'm sure you'll find something interesting!

Hope (with apologies to Pope)

image source

Hope springs eternal

Crocus heads pushing up snow

Spring's eternal hope

submitted for Thursday Think Tank-#40

For Bernadette

Image found here.

The Luck O' the Irish passed you by

Out of 3 girls and 1 boy

Only you

Inherited your father's affliction

But like your patron saint

You still saw possibilities

Where others saw obstacles

And believed in miracles

While taking what science and medicine had to offer

And when your disease took your hearing

You still listened

When you could no longer walk

Your wheelchair became your legs

At the end it took everything

Except your grace

And it was we who had the luck

Of knowing you.

This poem was written for my sister-in-law Bernadette, who died last May of neurofibromatosis 2.

submitted for Theme Thursday

Distracted Muse

I called to my muse

Alas, she did not hear me

Her iPod was on

image source

submitted for One Shot Wednesday-Week 37

A Triolet on Violets or Teenagers

image from Magpie 57

Benign neglect helps violets thrive

Don't light them too directly

Too much care they can't survive

Benign neglect helps violets thrive

Thirst a bit, the blooms arrive

Overwater, they wilt abjectly

Benign neglect helps violets thrive

Don't light them too directly

submitted for Magpie Tales 57

Walk a Mile

source: georginadollface.com

Take a look at the kid in the dirty clothes

Do you think he doesn't know he has a smell?

And what about the kid with no winter coat?

He's living in his own private hell.

And where is the girl who's not in school today?

Cause she's at home taking care of her mom

Do you think maybe she's got more on her mind

Than the dress she'll be wearing to the prom?

Take a look in the eyes of the man on the street

Who is trying to hang on to his pride

He grabs your arm as you pass him by

To tell you how the government lied.

Listen to the words of the girl who begs

Will you please give me just one dollar bill?

She's trying her best just to stay clean

But her habit is stronger than her will.

Have you ever been knocked down off your pedestal?

Have you ever tried to walk a mile?

Have you ever found every door was closed to you?

Have you ever sold your soul to see a smile?

Have you ever been hungry for more than food?

Have you ever been face down in the mud?

Have you ever tried to walk a mile?

Til then, little girl, don't judge.

submitted for Steal This Art at Rabbit's Den

and Poetry Pantry 33 at Poets United

No Blindfold

image by Fee Easton 

Welcome to the new America

You may be Red

Or you may be Blue

But we're all Red, White, and Blue

True patriots!

Home sweet Homeland Security

and good fences make good neighbors

but nuclear weapons will clear out the whole neighborhood

Never mind the fallout

We all have our Potassium Iodide tablets

We wear our RFIDs proudly

Like American flag pins

We have nothing to hide

Scan our fingerprints

Scan our eyes

You won't find anything behind them but fear

We kill the new witches

The dangerous bitches

Who gather in covens singing songs, reading poems

And laughing

Who aren't afraid to see

Who aren't afraid to die

Who ask for

No blindfold and

Three cigarettes.

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry

Eat This! or A Tale of Love, Pies, Lies,and Revenge

She set her sights on the fine young lad

Said "I know how to make him mine."

Took out her recipes and she cooked

All sorts of foods most divine!

She sent cookies up to his office

Sugar and oatmeal-raisin

On the tray was her telephone number

Oh my! but the girl was brazen!

He asked her out for that Friday

A movie, dinner, and dancing

She accepted demurely but devised impurely

More gastronomic romancing.

She brought him lunches to work every weekday

Sandwiches, salads, and treats

Muffins and cupcakes, hoagies and cheesesteaks

No dish was too great a feat.

He fell for her just as she'd planned it

They married one day the next spring

He kept eating her chow and came time for the vow

With his finger too fat for the ring!

They were the perfect of couples

She baked him all flavors of pies

He ate all her food and she fed him real good

But all that he fed her were lies.

The best way to man's heart's through his stomach

She'd followed those words to her best

But when she found out he was cheating on her

Then she shot him straight through the chest!

image by lolita-art at deviantart.com

submitted for Poetry Potluck: Food, Drink, and Indulgence
also for Poetry Potluck: Lies, Deception, and Misrepresentation

You Like Me! You Really Like Me!

Lynnaima, http://lynnaima.wordpress.com, Bodhirose http://bodhirose.wordpress.com/ and verseinanutshell http://verseinanutshell.wordpress.com nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award. Two were for Mouse Droppings, my poetry and prose blog, and the other was for Rants From the Hormonally Challenged, my therapeutic venting blog. I humbly thank all bloggers very much for this honor. The Rules to accept the award are as follows:

• Thank the person who awarded you and link back to them in your post.
• Tell 7 Random facts about yourself.
• Pass the award on to 15 new found bloggers.
• Contact each blogger you want to pass the award on to and let them know you’ve done so, and let the giver of your award know you accept it.

So, 7 Fun and (Maybe) Interesting Facts about Me (Lolamouse)

1. I'm a leftie 
2. My favorite candy is Twizzlers
3. I like the East Village, egg bagels, and Johnny Depp
4. I hate Times Square, stinky cheese, and Giada DeLaurentis
5. I started writing stories and poetry for a literary magazine in junior high
6. I've had birds, fish, guinea pigs, and dogs as pets
7. I've had migraines since I was at least 7 years old

Now, for the difficult part: 15 new found bloggers. There are so many bloggers who already have this award, but I will try to find 15 new ones. I nominate for the Versatile Blogger Award:

1. moon stones http://smallmoonstones.blogspot.com small poems with big thoughts
2. Inside My Poem Book http://umaspoembook.blogspot.com Uma writes poems, prose, and has a weekly poetry challenge to explore different poetry forms
3. life whispers http://nene-lifewhispers.blogspot.com  poetry that is sometimes political, sometimes personal, always thought provoking
4. Lost In LaLa http://layneeslalaland.blogspot.com come on Laynee's journey of self-exploration-you never know where she'll take you!
5. Art Projects from MN Art Gal http://mnartgal.blogspot.com/ here is a teacher who is definitely NOT burned out! inspiring art projects for the kiddies or yourself!
6. EveryDayIsAwesome http://everydayisawesome.com Paul Overton teaches us how to tame nastiness without being "hippie-dippie" and annoying (I'm a slow learner!)
7. Few Miles http://pendownmythought.blogspot.com  talented writer of prose and poetry, host of annual haiku contest, check out the many blogs of Someone Is Special (SIS)
8. Reflections Of... http://reflections-dreams.blogspot.com/ beautiful poetry, prose, and pictures
9. Coffee with a Hint of Self Delusion http://muse-on-fire.blogspot.com cool poetry, thoughtful thoughts, photos, etc. from one cool chick
10. The Simple Life http://odielangley.blogspot.com Odie's blog is a happy mix of personal anecdotes, inspirational but not preachy messages, photos, and fun
11. Appetite for Words http://appetiteforwords.blogspot.com/  poetry- sometimes funny, sometimes not, always good
12. Kim Nelson Writes http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/ art, photos, poetry, writings from one talented gal!
13. Shay's Word Garden http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/  awesome poetry! check out fireblossom's other blogs as well-good stuff!
14. Pics and Poems http://picsandpoems.blogspot.com/ Dave King is an extraordinary poet and artist. You may even learn some history reading his poetry!
15. 120Socks http://120socks.blogspot.com/ poetry, photo journal, thoughts, and lots of other goodies! maybe you'll even find your lost socks!

Congratulations to all of the award nominees! You all rock! And thanks again to the bloggers who nominated me! 

The Children's Hour *

image source

It's the Children's Hour again and the ghosts come out to play

Some must be coaxed from hiding spots

Some are loud and boisterous tots

We welcome them into our room

We don't shoo them away

At the Children's Hour

We build them altars out of clay

We paint their portraits with our crayons

With feathers, glitter, and glue

We construct our own memento mori

And decorate them with colorful beads

     to wear around our necks

At the Children's Hour

We are not afraid of ghosts here

We have seen them all

Even the monsters that live

in your dreams

And make you think of terrible things

That make you mad or make you scream

They're welcome here too

At the Children's Hour

Every ghost has a story to tell

Perhaps about heaven or maybe about hell

Even a silent ghost

Has a lot to say

At the Children's Hour

This poem was inspired by my work with a children's bereavement group through Hospice.

submitted for Poets United, Thursday Think Tank #39 - Ghosts

A Knotty Issue

A bit of explaining is in order: The Poetry Bus is a weekly challenge organized by the blog Total Feckin Eejit. Each week it's hosted by a different person who chooses the challenge for us to write about. This week, the host is the band The Watercats who present us with the following challenge:

Thursday, March 10, 2011

POETRY BUS! THE CHALLENGE IS JUST THE BEGINNING!

So here you go folks. Despite Eejit's panic that we might have forgotten that we were driving this week, (we remembered all along honest),  here we are. Your challenge, should you choose to accept it it thus.

1: PROTEST
2: IN A FOUR LINE POEM
3: WITH A RHYME THAT HAS A RHYTHM SUCH AS THUS;

     dum dum dunm dum dum dee dum
     dum de dum de dum dee dum
     dum de dum de dum dee dee
     dum de dum de dum de dee.

(or something).

 So, here is my effort:

Marriage is more than religious
It grants status quite litigious
Legalize knots that are tied
From groom to groom and bride to bride!

I Am One

Look me in the eye

Call me a slut

A whore

A sinner

If that's what you think I am

Don't hide behind your signs

And your slogans

And your fake smile

While your teeth drip venom

Don't pretend to like me

When you see me around town

Then whisper sharp rumors

Like knives that stab my back

I am one of those

Who has done the unspeakable

Speak to me!

I am sick of being stifled

I am sick of being shamed

Sick of wearing this tape over my mouth

And averting my eyes to your gaze

I am one

And it's time that I spoke

I would rather be spit upon

Than forgotten

Bleeding

From a wire hanger

Or a knitting needle

Between my legs.

submitted for One Shot Poetry Wednesday at One Stop Poetry

Pancakes Every Sunday

image source

She made him pancakes every Sunday
Eggs and bacon too
She made him meatloaf every Monday
On Tuesdays it was stew
On Wednesdays she served chicken
On Thursdays they had wine
Fridays were a day for fish
Saturdays were out to dine.
Oh, she fed him finely!
He never ate so well
After a year he left her
Saying he was bored as hell!

This poem was inspired by the style of Dorothy Parker
and submitted to the Poetry Bus

Little Dog

Little, white, shaggy ball of fluff
Jumped into my lap and my life
An early Christmas gift
From the "Returns" department for pets
Who makes me love used merchandise even better than new!

This is a 5W (Who, What, When, Where, Why) Poem submitted for Experimenting With Poetry Forms

Out of Garlic

image from Magpie Tales 56

She pressed the flat edge of the knife against the clove of garlic then brought her hand down upon it with a sharp "smack," perhaps a little harder than necessary. She heard the satisfying crack as the skin of the garlic peeled open, revealing the smooth, white clove. How many garlic cloves had she peeled to saute in oil and add to the countless pots of tomato sauce she'd simmered for countless hours on the stove? She imagined that the months and years of her married life could be tallied up by garlic cloves and pots of sauce. Still, after 23 years, her sauce couldn't compete with his mother's. That she used his mother's recipe held no sway; there was always something missing. Probably those apron strings. Anyway, it didn't matter now. This would be the last pot of sauce he got from her. After this, he could go to his mother's for sauce. Or get it from the Ragu in the jar!

She put the heavy iron pot on the stove to simmer. It did smell good! She filled another pot with salted water for the pasta and left it, too, on the stove, unlit. He could figure out how to boil water, couldn't he? She set up the Mr. Coffee to come on about 10 minutes before he was to arrive home so that his coffee would be hot. There was a full container of milk in the refrigerator. The week's laundry was done early, so all of his clothes were cleaned and put away. She suddenly felt a small flutter of excitement and nervousness as she picked up a pen and wrote,

Dear Anthony,

I'm leaving you. I don't love you any more, and I know you stopped loving me a long time ago. There is sauce on the stove and water for pasta. Your sandwich for lunch tomorrow is in the refrigerator. 

Yours,

Angela

P.S. You're out of garlic

submitted for Magpie Tales 56

A Camping We Will Go!

To be young and stupid
And have Nature as your playground
A tent, sleeping bags, and a quick trip to the grocery
And we're off on a weekend adventure
Why not?
The damp ground can't dampen our spirits
Even as we snap another cheap tent post
And can't find dry wood
To make a decent fire
Who cares?
The fire finally struggles to life
And we proudly cook our provisions
Cheap steak that is an amazing simulation of shoe leather
And where did our can opener go?
Oh well!
There's always alcohol
And stars
And the music of the woods
To lull us to sleep
Good night!

written for Cloaked Monk's March Challenge

Bubbe's* Gift

* Bubbe is a Yiddish word for grandmother. When I was seven, my grandmother,who loved to read and to write, gave me the book 101 Famous Poems for my birthday. I have it to this day.

My love of words began my seventh year

A small green book you pressed into my hand

 And though I was too young to understand

I knew that it was something you held dear

Into those magic poems I would peer

The distance between you and me was spanned

Your writer's mark on me you left your brand

And to this day I always keep it near

Because of you a truer voice I found

You taught me how to write from what I live

You taught me to observe the world around

You taught me how to listen for the sound

I read your words wrapped up like gifts to give

Each time I write, to you I will be bound

poem submitted for Poetry Potluck

Thank you to Jingle at Thursday Poets Rally for this award!

Turtle

If the world looks safe and all is well

image source

My little head may poke out of my shell

But if you knock at me too loudly
I'll retreat, so please don't crowd me

I like to observe, watch, take stock
You may forget I'm around, mistake me for a rock

Sometimes I'm moody, want isolation
When winter comes, I crave hibernation

I may not be flashy, flirty, or fast
But I know where I'm headed and I'm built to last

submitted for Smiley Sociology Study Number 4

Spring's Children

image source

Shy, pink blossoms yawn

Tiny angel winged petals

Flutter in the wind

submitted for Weekend Contest at Washington Post.com

Beauty Is

Thank you, Jingle and Poets Rally!

I went to look for beauty today

I needed to see that it still existed

After a morning of encounters with ugliness

     foul words spit at innocent people

     a father yelling at his one year-old son

     a long, headache inducing waiting room purgatory

And dates with distress

     too much blood

     that suspicious lump

     one more test

     and just one more, just to be sure

Fled to the grocery for something pretty and tasty

And found the fish wasn't fresh

And the gossip was stale as well

But the kid in the check-out lane cracked a lame joke

And it set us all to laughing

And for a moment

Everything seemed beautiful.

submitted for Thursday Poets Rally, week 39

The Joyful Kitchen

image from Magpie Tales 55

Hello and welcome back to the Joyful Kitchen! I'm your host Joy Gladwell, and today we're welcoming spring with a lovely picnic lunch, just perfect for those sunny April afternoons in the park with the husband and kids! Or maybe a romantic little tryst under a tree with your sweetie (giggle, giggle!)

Anyway, we've already made our delicious chicken salad and packed it up with ice packs in our insulated cooler for no more than 2 hours, right? We have our bread packed separately so our sandwiches don't get soggy because who likes a soggy sandwich? I know I don't! We have our fresh fruit packed, yum, it looks so juicy and good, I can't wait! Now all we need is something to drink!

What better to go with a spring picnic lunch than fresh squeezed lemonade? It's sweet and tart, and when you make it yourself, you can control how much sugar your family gets in their drinks, not like those store-bought mixes. Also there's no artificial colors or flavorings. It's just so worth the little bit of extra work to do yourself! Come on, I'll show you!

First, we need about 6 lemons or enough to make 1 cup of lemon juice. Remember, wash those lemons off first! And here's a little trick for juicing them: just pop them in your microwave for a few seconds to warm them up slightly, roll them on the counter with the palm of your hand, then slice and squeeze. You'll get more juice out of them than if they're cold! You can use a fork to help you mash the pulp to get all that good juice out. It's not hard, though. I've already done 4 of them, and here's lemon number 5. Just take that knife, and slice it in...

Oh my! I seem to have cut my thumb a bit. What do I always say about using knives? Dull knives are more dangerous than sharp because you have to use more force! Who forgot to sharpen my knives? Oh dear, it does appear to be bleeding...Well, a joyful kitchen should always be a prepared kitchen! Where are my band-aids? Let's see...I'll just wrap this drippy little thumb in a kitchen towel while I hunt for the band-aids that should be clearly visible but for some God forsaken reason are NOT! Here's another quick hint: to get blood stains out of cloth, like this towel, use cold water, not hot. It works so much better. I know I'll keep that tip in mind when I murder whoever didn't sharpen my knives and failed to stock band-aids in this damn kitchen! Ha ha, just kidding!

Whoa, this thumb is sure bleeding! Soaked right through the towel! But cool heads prevail in the joyful kitchen! We'll just find some rubber gloves and stick the hand in there until we finish with our lemonade because when life gives you lemons, what is that saying? I can't remember. I'm feeling a little dizzy. Oh, look how the blood is dripping on the counter and the floor! That's not very sanitary! Remember to clean up all spills immediately with warm water and a diluted bleach solution. Yes, that sounds delicious! I'll go make one now! Oops, the floor is rather red and slippery! How did I get down here? Weren't we supposed to go on a picnic? Tune in next week when the Joyful Kitchen does...something...else. Goodnight.

submitted for Mag55