After a rather gruelling week of lots of paperwork and very little sleep, I needed to do something a tad less cerebral. When the kids got on their buses, I got my sewing kit and felt and some special papers out... and, of course, the class skeleton ( aka Mr. Thrifty ) and dressed him for Thanksgiving Dinner ...( which will be on Tuesday ). I think he should sit at the head of the table... don't you? I think he's hysterical. My husband assures me I am the funny one! The poem that follows is also something I find hysterical, and although I am especially grateful that I do not share the speaker's disdain, I still make sure I find this batch of words each Fall before the feast ....
“Pre-Holiday PMS”
by Ginger Andrews
I don't want to be thankful this year.
I don't want to eat turkey and I could care
if I never again tasted
your mother's cornbread stuffing.
I hate sweet potato pie.
I hate mini marshmallows.
I hate doing dishes while you watch football.
I hate Christmas. I hate name-drawing.
I hate tree-trimming, gift-wrapping,
and Rudolph the zipper-necked red-nosed reindeer.
I just want to skip the whole merry mess—
unless, of course, you'd like to try to change my mind.
You could start by telling me I'm pretty and leaving me
your charge cards
and all your cash.
from An Honest Answer
(Story Line Press).
