Thank
God for dirty dishes,
They
have a tale to tell.
While
other folks go hungry,
We're
eating very well.
With
home and health and happiness,
We
surely shouldn't fuss.
For
by this stack of evidence,
Life's
been good to us.
COOKIE JAR
A
house should have a cookie jar,
For when it's half past three
And
children hurry home from school
As hungry as can be,
There's
nothing quite so splendid
In filling children up
As
spicy, fluffy ginger cakes
And sweet milk in a cup.
A
house should have a mother
Waiting with a hug
No
matter what a boy brings home,
A puppy or a bug.
For
children only loiter
When the bell rings to dismiss
If no
one's home to greet them
With a cookie and a kiss.
- unknown
Grandma's Recipes
This
has always puzzled me, just how much is a pinch?
These
recipes of dear Grandma's surely are no cinch.
A
"snip" of this, a "dab" of that, a
"lump" of something else,
Then
"beat it for a little while", or, "stir until it
melts."
I
have to be a wizard to decipher what she meant,
By
all these strange proportions in her cookbook worn and bent.
How
much nutmeg in the doughnuts? Grandma wouldn't flinch,
As
she said, with twinkling eyes, "Oh, just about a
pinch."
There
must have been in her wise head a measuring device,
That
told her just how much to use of sugar, salt and spice.
