July 14, 2006


Thought it best to simply type 'Alaska' in the title of this post due to certain sensitivities which I hesitate to aggravate--and yet I have entered an agreement with A.Cat and his friend, my friend, Lim, to reproduce A.Cat's recollections for your perusal and which he hopes will extend weighty admonitions to young, brash kittens everywhere as explained in my post of July 12th.

This limerick had been pilfered but was returned in good time so I am posting it in its four verse form with much squinting of its faded lines as I type:

We know of a cat from Alaska
don't mess with him if ya don't haff ta
he's mean as two snakes
whatever it takes
he'll overcook all of your pasta.

Your sauce is in jeopardy too
he'll threaten the avian flu
and increase your stresses
then teach you what less is
an expert on how to acrue.

This cat is tres famous for snarl
he can't turn away from a quarrel
a buddha-like shape
a cuff on the nape
when hunting and shooting with Karl.

He'll point boney fingers at you
while selling you to the Bronx Zoo
he won't say just why
he's milking you dry
just open your mouth and say moo.


Well, there it is. Can't say I disagree with his sentiments especially given how I've lately developed this craving for delicious dishes involving lemon grass.

(And that's coh' wull, not 'cow' as in moo-cow or Simon. Thanks.)

ps: to my querent, E.B...my love for the making and the baking of pies seems to be handed down from both sides of my family...thanks for asking!

My mother was notorious for the pies she baked, but that paled in comparison to her and her family's way of baking a sheet of fluffy scones that would make your heart melt along with the butter. And that's not counting her home-made jams and jellies squished inside and dripping onto the plate.

Oh--and tonight's fried squid was amazing!! jude 12:39 am edt

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