Karyn Lyndon sent me the following:
“Okay, here's the deal. Take a pic of the contents of your refrigerator (as it is right now) and post it on your blog. If you're digitally challenged then you can describe the contents of your fridge in poetry form (or a combination of pic and poem for you high achievers). Then you must tag three bloggers to do the same.”
Sounds like a plan to me. So, I grabbed our new, expensive digital camera and went to the kitchen.
I opened up my fridge to look, my camera in my hand.
In Karyn’s tag, a picture and a poem she did demand!
This poem will be the easy part; I write them all the time.
(Tho’ some would scoff and claim the words I use don’t really rhyme.)
But hey! We’re talking food and stuff, like meat and cheese and apple.
I mean, how hard can rhyming be, with products like this Snapple?
I checked the jars of pickles, and the milk, and Dr. Pepper.
But then I saw tortillas, old and shrivelled like a leper.
My God! How long has some of all this stuff been hiding here?
And what was that? Did I just see some movement in the rear?
I need to move some things around and see what’s lurking there.
Is that a piece of fruit? It’s green—and growing purple hair!
Let’s leave that shelf and check this drawer—why won’t the damn thing open?
I’ll just pull harder. UGH! Oh darn. I think it just got broken.
A little super glue will have it fixed in no time flat.
Looks like a piece is missing. Hmmm. I wonder where it’s at.
It might have fallen down behind. I’ll reach and hope for luck.
My fingers won’t quite fit in there. Oh, no! My hand is stuck!
I’ve got to free myself before my fingers get frost-bitten.
This thing is awfully cold down here. I wish I’d worn a mitten.
It’s like a louver, must be where the air moves past the fan.
I’ll use this fork to pry the damn thing open if I can.
Oh, hell, I dropped the fork inside. The fan is clanking wildly!
Carol will be really miffed (and that’s putting it mildly!)
I’ll reach around behind and pull the cord to stop the motor.
Ah, there! I got it. OH MY GOD! Why is it spewing water!?
I must have pulled the plastic hose that feeds the ice cube maker!
I can’t stand up. My hand is stuck. I’m kneeling in a lake here!
(OK, that was a stretch. But most of the rest of the rhymes aren’t bad!)
The water’s rising, I can’t move! I think I might just drown!
But what was that? Out in the driveway? Did I hear a sound?
It must be Carol coming home. She’ll save me without fail!
What’s taking her so long? Did she walk out to check the mail!?
She’s finally here, and turned the water off before disaster.
(I told here there’d be less to clean if she had come in faster.)
So now the fridge is broken, water through the house has flooded.
My fingers, though not broken, all are bruised and cut and blooded.
My camera has been ruined by the water on the floor.
So there will be no pictures for you bloggers to adore.
The steam’s now rolling from my dear wife’s ears, just like a fog.
She’s learned I made this mess because of something on my blog!
(In case you didn't know, Carol is not a big fan of my blog.)
There ya go, Karyn. Best I could do, considering the circumstances.
I’m not sure I want to tag three others with this one though. Offering a picture tour of your fridge might be a bit personal for some, kinda like a quick peek into your medicine cabinet.
If any of you stoppers-by want to take a run at this one, help yourselves. Let me know if you do. Somehow a picture of the inside of a refrigerator just doesn’t seem too appealing, but I’ll stop by your site and check it out.
‘Specially if you also wax poetic about it.