Featuring cherita!

March 31, 2012

If It Ain't Broke...

You may or may not remember that last year I wrote a Poetry Friday post about soda crackers, a.k.a. saltines. I got quite a good response from others who get excited about saltines, too. So, when I read a piece on the latest change to saltines, I knew I had to share it with my saltine-loving readers. The piece by Dave Hill is titled, "The Last Thing I Need", and it deals with the reintroduction of saltines in a new shape--round.

And, if we're to believe Mr. Hill's rather salty rant, they've changed the taste, too! OMG! I haven't seen the new round saltines, but he's got me so curious that I will be on the lookout for them. (I checked the Nabisco website, and didn't see anything about round saltines. I wonder if Mr. Hill is pulling our legs?)

I can't believe they would change the taste of a saltine. It's blasphemy! In case you think I'm being a little over-the-top calling it blasphemy, the definition of the word is "impious utterance or action concerning God or sacred things." Now, if saltines aren't sacred things, I don't know what is. They've been a part of almost every American kid's life for even longer than I've been alive. Who doesn't consider a saltine and butter "sandwich" as one of childhood's great gustatory pleasures?
crumbs fly
as she talks and chews
--buttered saltines

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.
Musician Jack White has just released a single called "Sixteen Saltines." He performed it several weeks ago on SNL. I hope you like your saltines loud!

March 30, 2012

Poetry Friday--''Four Ducks on a Pond"

Spring is here, although on Tuesday we had a little hail, a little rain, a little cold, a little sun, and we ended up with a rainbow. I suppose you have to expect it ALL in the spring! Most New Englanders seem to favor autumn as their favorite season. Personally, I hate the fall--too damn depressing. Spring is my hands-down favorite. However, it is not without its melancholy aspects, too. Here's a simple little poem, often used with children, that expresses both the joy and the melancholy inherent in spring.
Four Ducks on a Pond
by William Allingham

Four ducks on a pond,
    A grass-bank beyond,
    A blue sky of spring,
    White clouds on the wing;
    What a little thing
    To remember for years—
    To remember with tears!

Paddle over to My Juicy Little Universe for the Round-Up this week.

Photo of three ducks on a pond (I'm sure there's another just out of the frame) by Marius Waldal.

March 27, 2012

March 25, 2012

March 23, 2012

Poetry Friday--"O Cheese"

Last night I ate out and had a grilled gouda sandwich with tomatoes and fresh basil. Yum! After macaroni and cheese, a grilled cheese sandwich is the best ever cheese dish. My favorite of all, though, is plain old Swiss cheese cut from a block, eaten with a piece of toast and butter, topped off by a piece of fruit. The simplest, most dependable lunch ever!

I, however, am not the only fan of cheese. This poem by NH's Donald Hall, is a tribute to cheese--more kinds than I've ever tried!
O Cheese

In the pantry the dear dense cheeses, Cheddars and harsh
Lancashires; Gorgonzola with its magnanimous manner;
the clipped speech of Roquefort; and a head of Stilton
that speaks in a sensuous riddling tongue like Druids.

O cheeses of gravity, cheeses of wistfulness, cheeses
that weep continually because they know they will die.
O cheeses of victory, cheeses wise in defeat, cheeses
fat as a cushion, lolling in bed until noon.

Liederkranz ebullient, jumping like a small dog, noisy;
Pont l’Ev√™que intellectual, and quite well informed; Emmentaler
decent and loyal, a little deaf in the right ear;
and Brie the revealing experience, instantaneous and profound.

O cheeses that dance in the moonlight, cheeses
that mingle with sausages, cheeses of Stonehenge.
O cheeses that are shy, that linger in the doorway,
eyes looking down, cheeses spectacular as fireworks.

Reblochon openly sexual; Caerphilly like pine trees, small
at the timberline; Port du Salut in love; Caprice des Dieux
eloquent, tactful, like a thousand-year-old hostess;
and Dolcelatte, always generous to a fault.

O village of cheeses, I make you this poem of cheeses,
O family of cheeses, living together in pantries,
O cheeses that keep to your own nature, like a lucky couple,
this solitude, this energy, these bodies slowly dying.

This week's Round-Up takes place at A Year of Reading.

Photo © Norman Boutillette, all rights reserved.

March 20, 2012

March 18, 2012

Happy Haiga Day!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Image courtesy Library of Congress.

This is true! Between Friday afternoon, and the time it grew dark yesterday, there was an appreciable greening of the lawn! I do believe spring has arrived!

March 17, 2012

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I think you'll agree, you've never seen St. Patrick's Day celebrated like this before.

However you celebrate, please do it safely!

March 16, 2012

Poetry Friday--Eve

The Imperfect Paradise: Poems is the title of a book by Linda Pastan; it is also the title of a section in the book where we find poems about Eve (and Adam and Paradise).

In the section, are several thought-provoking poems, including this one:
On the Question
of Free Will

noticing the skeleton
on every leaf

and how
the lion's mouth
and antelope's neck
fit perfectly,

I wonder
at God's plan
had Eve refused
the apple.
So, what do you think? Did Eve have free will? Did she have any choice regarding the apple?

Here's what I think:
What Eve Should Have Done

Rather than take the bite that sealed
the fate of all women to come,
Eve should have plucked the apple
peeled it, sliced it, drizzled it
with a little nectarous honey, sprinkled
it with chopped nuts and grains.
She should have baked it until
it was hot and fragrant and luscious
and God could only stand there
drooling and begging for a bite.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Have a great day and make the Poetry Friday Round-Up your next stop. It's being hosted by Greg at GottaBook.

Dürer engraving courtesy Library of Congress. Did you notice the cat is front and center?

March 13, 2012

March 9, 2012

Poetry Friday--Are Women People?

If you've been paying attention to what is going on in the country in relation to politics, then you may enjoy this "find" from the Gutenberg Project: Are Women People? A Book of Rhymes for Suffrage Times by Alice Duer Miller.
Our Idea of Nothing at All

("I am opposed to woman suffrage, but I am not opposed to woman."--Anti-suffrage speech of Mr. Webb of North Carolina.)

O women, have you heard the news
        Of charity and grace?
Look, look, how joy and gratitude
        Are beaming in my face!
For Mr. Webb is not opposed
        To woman in her place!

O Mr. Webb, how kind you are
        To let us live at all,
To let us light the kitchen range
        And tidy up the hall;
To tolerate the female sex
        In spite of Adam's fall.

O girls, suppose that Mr. Webb
        Should alter his decree!
Suppose he were opposed to us—
        Opposed to you and me.
What would be left for us to do—
        Except to cease to be?
Now take a look at the opening paragraph of a February 2012 commentary on the website, The Daily Caller :
In a simpler time Sigmund Freud struggled to understand what women want. Today the significant battle is over what women are for.
Say what? I'll leave it to you to read and decide what the writer's intent was in posing that question! But, doesn't it seem to echo the question posed by the title of Alice Duer Miller's book?

The issues of the day aren't exactly the same: in the 1910s it was "should women be allowed to vote?" One hundred years later it is "should women have control over their bodies, their healthcare, their reproductive choices and decisions?"

But guess what, despite the differences in the issues, the basic question is the same--shouldn't women have the same rights as men? Why should males make decisions for women?

I'll share a little more from the book, Are Women People? It has a lot worth sharing, so please check it out!
Why We Oppose Pockets for Women

1. Because pockets are not a natural right.

2. Because the great majority of women do not want pockets. If they did they would have them.

3. Because whenever women have had pockets they have not used them.

4. Because women are required to carry enough things as it is, without the additional burden of pockets.

5. Because it would make dissension between husband and wife as to whose pockets were to be filled.

6. Because it would destroy man's chivalry toward woman, if he did not have to carry all her things in his pockets.

7. Because men are men, and women are women. We must not fly in the face of nature.

8. Because pockets have been used by men to carry tobacco, pipes, whiskey flasks, chewing gum and compromising letters. We see no reason to suppose that women would use them more wisely.

A Sex Difference

When men in Congress come to blows at something someone said,
I always notice that it shows their blood is quick and red;
But if two women disagree, with very little noise,
It proves, and this seems strange to me, that women have no poise.


"Mother, what is a Feminist?"
        "A Feminist, my daughter,
Is any woman now who cares
To think about her own affairs
        As men don't think she oughter."

The next time you hear a bloviating talk radio personality mention a "feminazi," think about how long we women have been fighting for our rights. Thanks to women like Alice Duer Miller, we can vote. And vote we will! You can count on it.

Head over to Gathering Books for this week's Round-Up.

Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Friday evening update: I just have to share this video. Since watching it, I have an earworm, but it was worth it! (Thanks, Julie!)

March 6, 2012

March 2, 2012

Poetry Friday--Things We Used to Do

We were all kids once, and as kids, we were involved in some tasteless activities--like wearing white lipstick (girls) or tossing spitballs across a classroom (boys). Of course, once you reach adulthood, these things make you cringe. On the upside, though, these memories are grist for the poetry mill!

by Michael McFee

Little paper cuds we made
by ripping the corners or edges
from homework and class notes
then ruminating them into balls
we’d flick from our fingertips
or catapult with pencils
or (sometimes after lunch)
launch through striped straws
like deadly projectiles
toward the necks of enemies
and any other target where they’d
stick with the tiniest splat,

read the rest here.
Remember those days?

I trust you'll be on your best behavior as you visit this week's Poetry Friday host, Dori Reads!

Don't you love Flickr? It's a rare day that I don't find what I need on Flickr. The spitballed ceiling was photographed by iandavid.