Pops

I craved popcorn more than anything else while I was pregnant with Scotlyn. I ate a bag or two a day and sometimes that was all I ate, especially in the beginning.

Every time we had an ultrasound of her, her fists were punching - Pop! Pop! Pop!

(Let me at that camera!)

And when she came out, there was a twinkle popping out in her eyes that just won't quit - Pop!Pop!Pop!

(Can you see my twinkle, guys? Can you?)

Most of the time she's either chill, as in movie, popcorn and chill. 

 (Most of the time her drool won't quit either.)

Or she's shyly smiling, giggling and squealing, like she's in a perpetual sleepover - sharing secrets and eating popcorn all night.

(Did someone say sleepover?)

Sometimes I call her Pops or ScottyPoppyPie.

She makes my heart warm and buttery, constantly popping with love.

Happy Six Months, Pops! We love you!

And in case you were wondering how this photo shoot really went...

Hmm(mischievously twiddling her fingers), what can I do with all of this popcorn?

Wait, they're changing my position...

What the deuce is poking me all over?

Pick me up now, or I'll throw this popcorn in your face.

I'm warning you...one...two...here it comes...

Shoot. They called my bluff.

Maybe if I toot they'll pick me up?

Why are you not picking me up?!

Maybe I can stare them down.

Daddy? I know you'll pick me up.

Et tu, Brute?

Maybe if I just give them a polite smile, then can we be done?

Pick me up or it's about to get CRAZY up in here!

For Anne

Since Anne is the only one who reads my blog any more, I thought I should make a post especially for her(or I should say, you). You said I should posts pictures of my baby since he probably looks way different now, which made me think I should probably post pictures of my new baby since you probably didn't know I had a new baby. So here's what Rodger looks like now.

And here is what he looks like when one of his eyes is swollen from a mosquito bite.

And here is what he looks like doing his daily activities (tackling Dad and building forts).

And here is our new baby girl, Scotlyn.

And here is Rodger wanting to get the same photo shoot treatment as the baby.

And here they are together.

And here is me, with the worst cold/cough of my life two weeks after having major abdominal surgery. So fun.



And here are all 19 of the Kitchen grandkids, in case you were wondering.

And here is something I thought was pretty. It's like a leaf trying, and succeeding, to imitate a bird's eye view of a river and its tributaries.

Love you, Anne!

Poetry Month

Did you know that April is poetry month?

Did you know that I have a love/hate relationship with poetry? I love to read it, I hate to write it.

I have produced some massive failures over the years in all my attempts to become a better poet. One year I tried to write a poem a day, but unfortunately began the goal during a month of romance heartache - producing a whole notebook filled with poems that I desperately wish I could say I wrote when I was 13 and not 26 years old.

Divided Corazon by Ashley Kitchen

Donde esta my notebook?

Quiero some lunch.

Te quiero you.

It just won't trabajar.

The Puzzle by Ashley Kitchen

"I want the piece to fit," she said.
"It can't," he said.
"It will," she said.
"I want it complete," he said.
"It won't be," she said.
"It must," he said.
"One of use will have to give," she said.
"Not me," said he.
"Nor I," she sighed.

When I steer away from the topic of love - all I seem to be inspired by are things like dropping contacts down the drain, or janitors, or the mailman.

January 6th by Ashley Kitchen

Pop goes my plastic eye
Suck goes the wicked drain
Squint goes my eye of flesh
Fuzzy goes my day.

Every failure of a poem I've written pales in comparison to the one I wrote for a creative writing class in college.  We had to write a poem inspired by the moment we first heard about the events of September 11th.  I happened to first hear the events while in a public restroom. And yes, I did base my poem around that theme.  And yes, I did use the symbols of filth and flushing toilets. And yes, at the time I thought it was one of the most brilliant things I'd ever come up with.  I thought I would have people pierced to the very core, left completely without speech and full of tears.

I was partly right, they were speechless(that someone could be so crude and tactless) and some of them were crying(from laughing).

That's when I knew that I had absolutely no filter for knowing what good and bad poetry was all about. But that doesn't stop me from celebrating it this month. Happy Poetry Month!