In search of perfection

I’ve got my lime

I’ve got my mint

I left the last of the ice in it,

I found the rum

stole the hummingbird food too,

went round the world (on-line of course)

in search of the perfect mojito.

I love the green that swims in it

I love the drops from the cold as it sits,

To pluck and chop and stir so sweetly

but it always seems to go down too quick

I’ve got more limes

more than enough time

the sweetest man who whips it up

service with a smile

I think I may just have to sit with it awhile,

savor the flavor beneath the winter sun

and pretend like I’ve just begun,

hey bartender, I’ll take one more

as the Mexican perky music plays

I realize these my friends, are perfect days.

Hubby and I grabbed some mint at the farmers market and some limes, whipped up some sweet syrup and relaxed poolside sipping, then hubby found a new recipe, the best one yet and mixed more up the next day. He’s had the flamingo stir stick for over 25 years, must have known it was a harbinger of things to come, moving to Florida and yummy drinks poolside. Life is good indeed. Ribs on tap for dinner tonight and looking forward to that.

Dog poop and yummy food

So our neighbor inquired if we had been, how shall I say it, putting dog poop bags into his garbage can. I stifled a laugh and of course said Nope, wasn’t us. Our neighbor doesn’t use his garbage can, he makes one tiny bag per week that sits on his lawn, soaked by his sprinkler system and I suppose the garbage men get to pick up wet and drippy but “clean garbage” when all is said and done. Well, apparently he had just looked into his can for the first time in forever and found a dog poop bag with a gift within. He was a mite upset about the whole ordeal, and it’s not like he’s an old cranky codger or anything, in his early sixties at best. Now I pick up our dogs gifts that they bestow daily like clockwork, tie it tight and slap it on my back in the pack I carry. I take it home where I have a metal can specifically for these gifts. So flash forward a day and he asks my husband again if he’s seen anyone in his yard depositing Fifi’s little gifts into his trash can. Of course we have not, and once again, no it isn’t us. I figure he must have upset someone in the neighborhood, how I do not know but we hope he puts up a camera and catches the suspect soon. He is not a dog owner or he would obviously be making more garbage per week, I should know, our two are never-ending machines at making gifts. I am still chuckling about it and at least someones picking up their dog poop besides us.

On another note, but a much nicer one, hubby made a scrumptious breakfast today and I thought I’d take a pic and share. My girl Lady G had a post the other day asking about what people are cooking up these days and today we were blessed to partake in this:

Now that there is cinnamon apple bread french toast with real New York maple syrup with chicken breakfast sausage to compliment. See, and you thought this whole piece would be about dog poop, didn’t you? So what’s happening in your neighborhood that’s given you a laugh lately or what’s cooking good-looking? Please share, the world needs more chuckles and growling stomachs.

Gold

Trinkets and tidbits pressed together

reminiscent of a bus with one too many passengers

jostling with each step, each bump rocking

back and forth heaped yet trying to remain

separate in space.

Boxes heaped with rusted bolts and nuts

and the odd occasional I don’t know what

forced like sardines as I search

for the elusive gold.

I know not the name of what I seek,

only knowing when I see it I shall know

that this is the one I had waited for

and I move forward in the crush

glancing here and there

while lost in towering piles of toys and trash

I turn the corner into the fresh breeze of beyond

knowing that today is not the day

to unearth the prize

of a flea market surprise.

Yesterday my husband and I journeyed to Bradenton to visit this big red barn flea market, not in search of fleas, please….I needed a piece of wood or something for my watercolor class that would fit my lap and not be hurt by water, paint, etc….I love the antique areas but there was one crushed area that was filled with to say it politely, junk. Boxes and boxes of metal pieces and bolts, chains, etc….packed so tightly you trip over these remnants from what looks like World War one. I did not find what I was looking for so went to Walmart where I happened to score the last purple ridged cutting board that should suit nicely. Not a flea market find but for 7.50$, I can always use it to cut veggies on if it doesn’t work out for the art thing. this image is not the flea market I attended, this one looks cool (trenton punk rock flea market) or something like that 🙂 Peace and happy shopping folks.