I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down.

Among the weeping willow trees, amid the fresh spring air
Alone and singing softly sat a maiden, sweet and fair.
The gentle breeze caressed her flowing hair of gold,
and all day there she stayed, singing songs of old.

Her angel eyes and beauty seemed from sky above,
But this meant nothing to her for she only cared for love.
Knights would come and knights would go but however hard she tried,
She could never seem to find the one for whom her heart would cry.

Early one summer morn, before her song did start,
She could the one she thought would heal her lonely broken heart.
A knight with waving plume of blue, he pledged to be forever true.
Before he left, he promised her, “I will return to you.”

And our fair maiden returned home, happy for one night,
determine to forever keep her handsome new-found knight.
In her bed, she dreamed of his kind and smiling face,
Thinking of all the reasons why she longed for his embrace.

Our girl had an older sister, sweet but twice as shy,
And she would hide her face when a man came walking by.
Unlike her sister in all ways except with one exception:
She too longed for love before beauty left her reflection.

Every dawn she waited, watched her golden sister leave.
But she know that in herself she must too believe.
For though her hair was darker and her eyes were not as bright,
She thought that if she waited, she would also find her knight.

And on, the golden sister left and on the darker waited.
But how could they have know about what was to be fated?
The golden one carried on unknowing for ignorance is bliss.
Then again, the darker one would ne’er have true love’s kiss.

The years passed and the darker grew so very drawn and old.
The golden found, however she tried, her lover’s heart grew cold.
And came the day when both were found in their same small room.
Lost hopes and dreams and love, their lives: one lonely doom.

Once young women, now both left to waste their lives away
But who can dare to guess which one did feel the worse that day?
Was it the golden girl who loved then had her heart ripped from her?
Or the darker one whose heart had never woken from its slumber?

Creativity is my favorite color.

Recycling bin
Flower stems
Freshly cut grass
Jade stones
Nauseous kid
The envious last

Pine needles
Sea foam
Leaves of oak
Granny Smith
Pod of peas
Color to go

Sour grapes
Can of moldy SPAM
Olive snack
Key lime Pie
Suess’s eggs and ham

Mr. Hulk
Spiderman’s foe
Popeye’s roids
Rolling in dough

Seaweed strands
Grinch’s face
Witch’s bulbous nose
Turtle shell
Spearmint gum
Thorny stem of rose

Grouchy Oscar
Golf course lawn
Miss Piggy’s frog
Kiwi fruit
Mint ice cream
A moss-covered log

I love this color.


Cut my pie into four pieces. I don’t think I can eat eight.

Matt mixing

Yes, that is my boyfriend wearing his sweatshirt around his waist “Cedar-point Mom” style while mixing apples and cinnamon for apple pie.

To explain, yesterday was our first “real date”. He didn’t tell me where we were going, but only to wear warm clothes and shoes that I could walk in. Saturday rolls around and he picks me up in his little red car and we go driving. Driving to an orchard in Michigan so we can buy apples. Buy apples and then take them home and make apple pie. Yes, it was that adorable and movie-esque.

pie final result

This is our final result. Not bad for a college kitchen, eh?

And no, that isn’t red lipstick on his cheek. I wouldn’t even think about reapplying red lipstick so I could plant a kiss on his cheek so it would jokingly show up in the picture. It’s a bright red birthmark. Quite a serious condition. He’s quite self-conscious about it. I try not to look at it when I see him.

But he does make me very happy 🙂

Age wrinkles the body; quitting wrinkles the soul.

Don’t Quit
Author unknown

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit —
Rest if you must, but don’t quit.

Life is strange with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
when he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow —
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
it seems to a fair and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
when he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late when night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out —
the silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
and you never can tell how close you are,
it may be near when it seems afar,
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit —
it’s when things seem worse that you mustn’t quit.