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A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)
Showing posts with label turnips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label turnips. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

Day 2--National Poetry Month--Pensee Poem--Turnips, Ice Cream

That was a good poem, wasn't it? Sorry, life happened and this poem was a little late. So here it is in all its glory. If you want to know what a Pensee poem is, check it out here:


Turnips
Lord's punishment
For liking mint chip ice cream 
Try choking them down. I dare you.
Mom's potato trick. Bleah!
(My mom once whipped turnips to look like smashed potatoes, which so enraged my father that he slopped his entire mound back into the bowl. We kids took that as cart blanch to do the same thing. Poor deluded Mom.)

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy



Ice cream
Food for the soul
Makes up for a host of wrongs
Your reward in the Afterlife
If you stop pounding sibs. 
© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy


Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Sack Lunches and Stinging Nettles

Can I just say that I really love deviled eggs? Which is weird since I really hate egg salad sandwiches. 

Mom used to make our lunches (what a dedicated mom!) every day. She put the most horrendous things in them sometimes. I could never get into pimento loaf (might as well be blood sausage or tongue for all I cared) or meatloaf sandwiches. A plain old PB&J would have done every day for me. But mom liked to change it up.

I suppose I should have been happy that she didn't jam some of the naturalist bleah in there that she tried to make us swill down at dinner. There would have been nothing to keep me from heartlessly abandoning a stinging nettle salad in my locker along with all the nasty sandwiches. Cattail pancakes wouldn't have made it past the neighbor's trashcan.

I never wanted to simply dump my lunch because my dad was a teacher at my school. He wouldn't have appreciated my wasting food. 

Or so I thought. 

The night my mom mashed turnips like mashed potatoes I learned just how far Dad would tolerate the stuff. We all got huge dollops of "potatoes". When Dad tasted them, he said, "D. if you ever do that again..." and then he schlopped it all back into the bowl. My sibs and I grinned at each other and followed suit. That was the only Get-out-of-jail-free card we ever got at dinnertime that I can remember.

We ate peach pits (for cancer prevention), various kinds of mushrooms they'd found in the woods, dandelion greens, various roots, and KM (some kind of tonic which tasted the way I would think horse urine would taste) to mention a few.

Somehow we managed to make it to adulthood intact. I don't even think any of us sustained major brain damage from it. I DID have a fairly smelly locker until the dude who had his locker above me stopped dropping his books on my head long enough to protest the stench. My master plan (make the guy move out of that locker through stench warfare) ended in failure when he complained to the janitor.

I think I pulled 53 lunches out of there. Unfortunately Mom was complaining that she never had lunch containers anymore, so I had to go through and remove the containers and take them home to be detoxed. I probably could have done mold studies on the hairy little things.

Huh. I think I'm hungry for a couple of deviled eggs.