Happy National Post Pi Day!

    Photo by Mary Bach

We made it through 13th, Friday
to Saturday, National Pi Day!
I shouldn't have to say it twice,
come on in and have a slice.

I'm not just a word nerd, I'm also a sort of a number nut.  And, hey, any excuse to have pie is good enough for me, so I just had to bake a pi pie.  :o)  And thanks to Jazz Bumpa for reminding me to post about about this!  I did bake this on Pi Day, but it's a post Pi Day post.  :o)  For the Toads Sunday Mini-Challenge.

Butter Me Up

Way back, when I was only three

and Aunt Loretta sat for me,

Uncle Erwin put me on his knee.

He taught me a crucial skill for life:

how to eat butter off a knife.

When I was little my parents hired Loretta Kleinschmidt to clean house and 'sit' for me on Tuesdays and Thursdays when my mom was at work.  She was strict, exacting, and loved me like a grandchild, and became my "Aunt Loretta."  She didn't drive, so sometimes my mom would get her, but frequently her husband, Erwin (pronounced Ervin) would come to our house to get her when he was finished with his work for the day, as a carpenter.  And that's when I learned about the wonders of butter.  Sadly, but maybe not surprisingly Uncle Erwin died of a heart attack December 26, 1985.  Aunt Loretta is dead now too, but I still remember them both with love. 
And this is for IGRT Sunday Mini-Challenge.  You should go there and check it out!

Sunday Scribblings #225 - Food

My response to the Sunday Scribbling prompt of Food:
This is a form called a Dectina Refrain that a friend of mine, Catherin Mackie, from Bleeding Moon Poetry blog created. Here are the rules if anyone wants to try, or just count and check up on me:
A Dectina Refrain is:

1 syllable
2 syllables
3 syllables
4 syllables
5 syllables
6 syllables
7 syllables
8 syllables
9 syllables

Repetition of syllables 1/2/3/4 to make a logical free-standing statement that is the emphasis of the poem.

Smell
the warm
crusty bread
My offering
fresh from the oven
kneading, resting, rising
I become my grandmother.
Standing in her warm, safe kitchen,
we are together, a communion,
generously passing out bread and love

Smell the warm crusty bread, my offering


Smell
the warm
crusty bread.
My offering
fresh from the oven
this is the bread of life
not that flat, tasteless wafer
they pass out on Sunday morning
bread from heaven, but we are earthy

Smell the warm, crusty bread. My offering


And here is another food themed poem. It is pretty much an actual conversation I had with my mom when I was about 7 years old. I can still remember how puzzled I was with that reasoning, that my overeating would help someone who was starving. It was in all earnestness that I suggested sending my food to China, so I was really surprised when my mom was angry with me. I started to make it this conversation into a Dectina Refrain, but it just wouldn’t fit, but I sort of like the idea of it, so here it is in free verse:


Clean
your plate
children are
starving in China

Can I send them

my extra?

Young lady

don’t you talk back!
Clean your plate
Children are starving

in China