Thursday, December 24, 2020

Wee Christmas Story: Gingerbread Zen

Merry Christmas! 

If the year 2020 was a Netflix show it would be described as:

  • Quirky (sourdough starters much?)
  • Brutal (on so many levels)
  • (at times) Sweet (Biden/Harris won!)


 

 

 

 

 

 

My gift to you is a wee Christmas story that could also be described as:

  • Quirky (Bob)
  • Brutal (food gets eaten)
  • (at times) Sweet (it involves frosting, so yeah)

Because, you know, it's still 2020.

(But at least there are some meditative elements.)

So pour yourself a cup of whatever will get you through the waning days of the year and enjoy a bit of Gingerbread Zen!

Picture Credit
  “Ho-Ho-Perfecto!  You will be the perfect midnight snack for Santa.”  

Mrs. Claus carefully placed the doughy gingerbread men on 

a cookie sheet. “Into the oven you go, my little Perfectos!”

   “Did you guys hear that? We’re the perfect gingerbread men!”  

    Gingerbread Bob looked around the cookie sheet.  

The other half-baked gingerbread men chanted:

    We’re rolled out flat,

    cut to look like men.

    Soon we’ll be eaten,

    time to get Zen.

    O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!

    Bob didn’t hear their song.  He was too busy admiring his 

perfection. “Look at my stout legs and thick arms. I am one tough 

cookie!”

    Ding! Once baked and cooled, Mrs. Claus frosted each cookie from 

head to toe.  When it was Bob’s turn, he reveled in the cool creaminess 

of the frosting as it oozed over his smooth terra-cotta skin.  

“This frosting feels perfect,” said Bob.

    “Treats for my sweet!” Mrs. Claus arranged the cookies 

on a plate with Bob on the top of the pile.  

    “Look at me, perfect as can be,” said Bob.

    At midnight a shadowy, round figure entered the kitchen 

shaking snow from his boots.  

“Ho-Ho-Ho! Treats from my sweet!” Santa Claus bellowed.

    Bob wriggled with excitement as Santa carried the plate 

to his comfy spot on the couch. “I’m so excited the big man 

is going to see my perfectly frosted…”

    But the gingerbread men under and around Bob interrupted 

his revelry. They chanted again:

    We’re rolled out flat,

    cut to look like men.

    Soon we’ll be eaten,

    time to get really Zen.

    O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!

     “Wait, what did you guys say?  We are about to be eaten?”  

    “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!” was their reply.

    Bob shook.  A huge hand took the cookie to his left. 

“Eek!” Bob squeaked. 

    A big thumb bumped Bob’s bum as Santa took the cookie to his right. 

Bob yelped, “Help!”

    Then Bob remembered his pan-mates’ mantra and tapped into 

his inner Gingerbread Zen. 

“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!” he hummed.

    Santa picked up Bob.  With a twinkle in his eye he said, 

“Ho-Ho-Perfecto! You are the perfect gingerbread man!”

    Bob smiled and embraced his fate.  “I am perfect,” Bob mumbled 

as he crumbled in Santa’s mouth. O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m…GULP.

©2020, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 Hosting this holiday Poetry Friday party is a gift 

in the poetry world, Irene Latham.


 


Friday, December 11, 2020

What the Elf?

I don't need to tell you that things are pretty elfed up right now.

Because they are.

For all of us.

But instead of wallowing in the what the elf, I've decided to put my energy into 'Where's the Elf?'.

Meet Elfanza:










 

A sassy imp who jumped ship shelf to help us through this elfing season. Hopefully her antics will make you smile

Smiling is her favorite. (and Buddy's, too!)

Elfanza fell for Blue!
 
Then when others went low, Elfanza went HIGH!

She was caught lifting weights being lifted by weights....

...then sinking into the couch post workout.


Unfortunately she ran into trouble when rummaging through a drawer looking for candy...






...then she got stuck in the blender...pour her.







This choice of hiding place just wasn't cool.

Her favorite spot is looking over a picture of a Christmas-past (Colleen and Maureen circa 2004).







 

Today's poem was written for another purpose, but while pilfering looking through my files, Elfanza came across it and decided to modify it to fit her elfing antics. Enjoy!

If I bend, stretch,
coil and twist,
my rear and ear
suddenly kiss.
I'm an elf.
©2020, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.
 
Today's consummate Poetry Friday host is 
the one and only Buffy Silverman! Join the poetry fun!
 


Thursday, December 3, 2020

Yay, Snow...Said No Dog Ever.

OK, to clarify, THIS dog would never say such a thing.


 

 

 

 

 

 

Smidgey here. I took over Mom's laptop because I have something to get off my chest. 

And back. 

And bottom.

A sweater!






Would you look at me? The humiliation! Horizontal stripes no less! 

I already get comments about my girth waist size and then Mom dresses me in the most unflattering sweater known to man dogs. 

And for what?

Snow! The first flakes of the season.


 





 

You see, I am a bit fur follicle challenged

I'm light on fur, but heavy on...uh, well, just heavy. But not heavy enough to be able to frolic in the snow and not get cold. I lived in the desert for most of my life...


 

 

 

 

 ...granted there were coyotes, snakes and scorpions that wanted to kill me, but gosh darn it, I was warm. And my fur follicle challenges worked to my advantage

Anyway, this week I got swaddled in soft stripes and paraded around the neighborhood while it snowed. I'm not sure I will ever recover...









...unless there is say, cheese nearby. *drool*







I digress. 

Despite the snow, something good did happen this week. Mom got an email from poet extraordinaire, Laura Purdie Salas that had a really fun poetry prompt in it. (Sshh, don't tell Mom that I know her email password, too.) Laura invited poets to try a Biopoem. Poet-schmoets...dogs can write poems too! So here goes:

Smidgey

squishy, sweet, sleepy, smelly (ahem, using my nose) 

daughter of what my people believe to be a rat terrier and chihuahua 

lover of cheese, cheese, and more cheese

who feels cold without a sweater and humiliated with one

who gives licky kisses, waggy-tailed welcomes, sleepy snores

who fears nothing and everything at the same time (I'm a confusing beast)

who would like to see Colleen again, my people staying home all the time and the insides of my eyelids

who lives in the center of the living room in the center of Switzerland

Dog

©2020, Bridget Magee. Smidgey! All Rights Reserved.

Join the all the Poet-schmoets at A Year of Reading where a super

 cool teacher-poet, Mary Lee, is hosting. 

Rumor has it, there is a book about a dog there...*woof*