Wordless Hibernatin’ Wednesday

zzzzzzzzz

 

Awwww

 

The Starlings

A bad housewife poem.  With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe.  And lovers of poetry.

The Starlings

In the middle of the night I awoke, quite hot with fright
at the sound of something light scratching in the wall.
I did not try the light, I just screwed my eyes up tight
and I turned my head to right and ignored my husband’s snore.

But the scratch became a tapping and the tapping so distracting,
there was surely something digging, something digging in the wall.
So, I cast my mind to thinking and my heart commenced to sinking
as my memory was linking to the pest that’d been before.

It was the starlings come to stay; to nest and raise their babes,
and my peaceful thought of sleep was drifting out the door.
For the starlings are like mice with wings and beaks and vice
and they certainly aren’t nice to have living in your wall.

They make nests up in the roof where the dogs can’t reach to ‘woof’
and there isn’t any proof that the cats can reach their paw.
And then their eggs will hatch in Spring and the little ones will sing,
and my poor old ears will ring and my nerves will be quite raw.

They will go and raid the chooks and despite my filthy looks,
they will get their little hooks into the chookies corn.
Then I will yell and vent and the dogs I will have sent,
in the hope of the event, that they will scare them off once more.

I must find a way to make the buggers pay
that does not involve a spray, or the poisons I abhorr;
‘cos my human heart is soft and I know they like the dust,
hair and grass would be a must snatched from my filthy kitchen floor.

If I blocked the gutter, I might not hear them utter
another noise or scratch or flutter from inside my bedroom wall.
But that would mean great cleaning, to which I have no leaning,
the starlings will enjoy their preening at my lack of household chore.

So the truth I know, my dear, is they’ll be back again next year,
and I will have to plug my ears and clean my kitchen floor.
I will pay the price for sloth, for my lack of care with cloth,
for my total love of broth; housework really is a bore.

MAMA!!!!

Thanks Wikipedia.

 

The bad housewife’s Easy cake

Sometimes you need a recipe to whip up because it’s nearly time for the kids to get home from school and you want to greet them with a warm vanilla scent and some good home cooking. 

Sometimes you need a recipe to whip up because your neighbour is going to pop over and not only is the housework not done, but you have nothing to offer her with coffee.  It’s not about being hospitable or feeding her sweet tooth but to distract her from the fingerprinted, dog nosed windows and the dust bunnies that look like they might attack her chiuahua.  This is such a recipe.

Easy Cake  (with thanks to wonderful neighbour Judy!)

Ingrediants:
2 eggs
cream (can absolutely be the questionable stuff in the back of the fridge as long as there aren’t any furry lumps growing in it.  Come on, it can’t be just me, can it? Fine.)
2/3 cup of sugar
1 cup self raising flour
dash of vanilla essence

Method:
Break eggs into a measuring jug and beat with a fork, add cream to this mix until liquid measures 1 cup and add the dash of vanilla.  Mix.  Put SR flour and sugar into a bowl and stir to combine.  Add the egg mixture and stir with a fork until combined.  Put into a greased loaf tin or prepared patty tins for cupcakes.  Cook in moderate oven 30 - 40 minutes for loaf, or 15 minutes for patty tins.  Ice as you like when cooled.  Or not.

Instead of icing the cake, I would use the time to fill the sink with suds and hide the dirty dishes in there, throw everything off the bench into a washing basket and wheel the chinese laundry into the children’s bedroom, now stick a denture tablet in the toilet (it works), a tablecloth on the sticky kitchen table and put some citrus peel on the fire.  But that’s just me.