Executing
Do-It-Yourself!
He’d written the definitive how-to-do-it guide,
but needed a good editor, so I had applied.
He was a woodsy sort of bloke, self-confident and curious,
but once I got to know him, I found him to be spurious.
Though he seemed independent, when I asked him to replace
a light bulb in its socket, he did a turn-of-face.
He balked and had a certain emergency of bladder
when asked if he would simply climb up on a ladder!
It seems the very sort of jobs he taught us to be doing,
due to his acrophobia, were ones he was eschewing!
When it came to home improvement, he was words upon a shelf,
giving literal meaning to the term “do-it-yourself!”
Prompt words today are woodsy, replace, independent, editor and spurious.
Framed
When I’m tired of television, my digestive tract
draws me to the kitchen and there we make a pact.
Shoe by shoe, approach the fridge and though the hour is late,
We stuff ourselves with what’s inside ’til appetites abate.
Making sorties on the fridge with just my own collusion?
The thought I’ll get away with it it’s merely an illusion.
They’re bound to miss that half a pie, but then the plot will thicken
when they note the absence of half a tub of chicken.
I leave the fridge a bit ajar, the Colonel’s box in front of it,
hoping when it’s time to blame that I won’t take the brunt of it.
I put the pie plate on the floor, increasing the odds that
if I spread bones around it, perhaps they’ll blame the cat!
Prompt words today are illusion, television, late, tract and shoe.
FOTDFO
I awoke this morning on my own, some time before 8, having had 8 full hours of sleep–a rarity for me. I awoke without assistance from the cat or the dogs or both–another rarity. Stepped on the scales and then went into the bathroom to try on “the” pants–the ones hung up a month or so ago as a reminder that I needed to get serious about losing some of the weight I’ve gained during this isolation period–not to mention the weight I’d gained before. I’d hung them up as a goal. When I could actually zip them up, I would have passed the first milestone. And guess what? They zipped up, albeit with some heavy inhaling to execute the zipper and button.
A few days ago, my sister mentioned going on a fast diet. Very simple. You could eat anything you wanted to, but only within a 5 hour period each 24 hours. She had chosen 3 to 8 PM. She encouraged me to try it (even not having seen those khakis hanging like a flag of shame on my bathroom towel rack.) I remembered that my friend Blue had lost 34 pounds in the past six months on such a diet and later my friend Brad reminded me he’d lost 20 lbs. on it. Or was it 40?
And so, four days ago, I started on it myself, choosing the dining hours of 4-9 PM initially, then after doing more research that said that any shorter eating period than 6 hours didn’t really improve rate of loss, I gave myself a one-hour cushion. If I am hungry at 3, I can start then, or if I’ve started at 4, occasionally extend beyond the 9 PM mark. My problem is that I decided I would eat one meal at 4 (or 3) and then have my usual morning smoothie that night before my curfew. But, I get busy and two nights in a row noticed that it was 8:45–or 8:57–and I still hadn’t had it. Fast action the first night meant I got the smoothie made and drunk before the 9 PM cutoff. The other time I was 3 minutes over.
At any rate, adhering strictly to these rules and having no others makes it a perfect diet for me after a lifetime of counting calories, carbohydrates or points. Somehow, it helps not to have to worry about food. I can eat half of that small pizza in the freezer–but now I choose yellow peppers and green olives to top it rather than pepperoni. I can have yogurt and fruit, but skip the ice cream. Bread is not a no-no. I just limit the hours of its consumption. At yesterday’s weigh-in, I’d lost 3 pounds. Today it is down to 2. Not gonna worry about it. My friend visited yesterday with a Caesar salad and forced me to drink two gin and tonics. Life is to be lived. At least I drank them within my 6 hour period.
7.2 pounds down (I’d lost a bit before beginning the fast) and I’m not telling how far to go. Gotta go now and find a new pair of pants as a goal.
Why Bakeries Were Invented
I’ve baked the cake, but cannot get the damn thing from the pan—
the problem being, mainly, that sticky layer of flan.
My daughter had demanded it, persnickety like her dad.
How had she ever heard of flan? I guess it was a fad.
I poured the custard in the pan and covered it with batter,
not sure whether the flan went first or if it was the latter.
Ten minutes in the oven and the glop began to rage
as though it was an animal, intent to leave its cage.
It roiled and fluxed, formed bubbles and spouted like fresh lava.
I lit a cigarette and poured another cup of java.
Although it was her birthday, I rued the day I’d asked
what kind of cake she wanted, for in this I’m sorely tasked.
But surprisingly, this devil cake did not escape its boundaries,
in spite of all my puzzlements and all my gross confounderies.
Now that I’ve finally got it out, I really am exhausted—
only to hear her next request. Now she wants it frosted!!!
Prompt words for today are exhausted, cage, flux, persnickety and cover.
