Julia Child I Ain’t

Years of trying but it never took
The fact remains I hate to cook

Given my druthers on what I prefer
To others my stove, I would gladly defer

Not that I can’t cook and bake
I make a to-die-for chocolate cake

Hubby likes that cooking stuff
Elaborate prep? He can’t get enough

Peaches for cobbler he is blanching today
and he’s roasting some garlic in a dish made of clay

Some sort of pasta sauce he is apt to prepare
With graters and blenders he has quite a flare

So to his heart’s delight my hubby cooks
Meanwhile me? I’ll be writing my books

Aplomb-less

I handle life’s challenges with zero aplomb
To every little issue I quickly succumb
And start screaming bad words at the top of my lungs

The coffee’s too weak, and the cereal is soggy
I need gas in the car and the weather’s turned foggy
And I haven’t thought of a poem for my stupid weekly bloggy

The battery’s gone dead on the kitchen clock
And I can’t find the match to my most favorite sock
And my brilliant idea the boss just summarily blocked

These types of traumas put me over the top
And make my blood pressure do the opposite of drop
Even when I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop

I do yoga and long walks for some zen-ish insight
To which my foul moods say “Get serious. Yeah, right!
Now you’re all sweaty and your hair looks a fright.”

Yes, other people seem way more well-adjusted
In patience and sanity they seem to be encrusted
I wonder, can these people really be trusted?