¿No habla usted inglés?

Ok, I admit it; I'm tired of Spanish...especially since I can't read it:D No offense to our border-hopping buddies, of course.


Beth, you are not allowed to tell me how bad my Spanish was.

Beth, you are allowed to tell me how bad the free translator was.



Ok, I have to admit something else. Yes, I got sucked into the whirlpool of the blog world, only hopefully I can manage to stay along the outward fringes of it. Ok, wait, that's not going to be a problem. I'm not even going to pretend that I'm going to post more often than once every three months. Sure, like many new bloggers, maybe I'll post twice in the first three months! You can be sure, however, that I will not get around to posting very often, though. After all, got to keep those cookies coming. That's the only thing that's keeping me off the streets of Denver. So either I blog or I make cookies. It's that simple; only if I decide to blog instead, please send me a good, dirty, bedraggled piece of cardboard. After all, that's what everyone needs in order to beg on street corners.



I guess the main purpose of my blog at this point is basically to play host to some of the things I've written. Yup, poetry, short stories, and the like. NO essays, though. As much as I like to write, essays do not put that little happy spot in my day. What I would really appreciate is some good feedback. What you liked, what you didn't like, that sort of thing.


And now, I shall begin to prove my weirdness. Here is a disturbing picture.




















Yes, it's me; I don't know whether that's fortunate or unfortunate.

Next, here is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago.




The clock has struck the quarter before,
The butlers are standing at the door.
The time draws near
In this building here.
Two bitter enemies will meet
(For neither will admit defeat)
And hold a parley
Over barley.

The chef with host of waiters grave
The dish into butlers' hands he gave.
Then step was heard,
A voice, one word.
Two bitter enemies have met
And come to prove the other's debt
And hold a parley
Over barley.

The doors are shut and butlers wait
For signal from the leaders great.
The hand is waved,
The dish is raised.
Two bitter enemies agree,
It is an awful thing indeed
To have a parley
Over barley.


















Yummy, yummy! :D




-rjentina






Go, Rays, btw.