Hello Muddah, hello Faddah,
Have you yet seen Harry Pottah?
I've not watched it, but my fam has
and both Ginny and big Hagrid they dressed up as.
They went to the midnight showing
so I fed them, 'fore their going.
We ate lamb chops, quite delicious,
but the side-dish preparations weren't judicious.
I was prideful of my harvest
broccoli, carrots -- let's be honest,
I was lacking clearest thinking
which explains my momentary cheeks a-pinking.
Time I should have spent in rinsing
I instead took up with mincing,
chopping veggies from my garden
never thinking that I'd have to beg for pardon.
Only as I acted waiter
did I spy the infiltrator.
Fried up with our belly-filler,
sat a little, greenish brownish caterpillar.
Here I was with a conundrum;
it's not like I could refund 'um,
anyway I wouldn't want to
ruin appetites that have nowhere to run to.
So I waited till they'd finished
to announced that I had sinned-ish
Even then, though, I withheld it
From HC whose stomach may have just expelled it.
Husband laughed and brother snorted,
(more humor than I had afforded)
making me feel slightly better --
though the poor caterpillar could not be deader.
In its mem'ry I decided
that this tale would be recited
to the blogging world I know of
Hoping that my fellow cooks, toward bugs, show more love.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
*this is the third installment in my Letter Writing Challenge. Previously, I've written to my best friend and my crush. In this edition, I'm supposed to write a letter to my parents. I was inspired by the 1963 classic "Hellow Muddah, Hello Faddah (A Letter From Camp)" by Allan Sherman.