Wait wait... I just found this

So check out this blog, it is wonderful, and the woman who writes it is very funny in her posts. I was looking up recipes for coconut chocolate cookies to make while Larry is working on his GRE homework, and I found this site. Fabulous!
Time to be a little innovative with my cooking and baking I think... :)
Pesto is also on my to-do list. And orange cookies, my ol' Gram's recipe, but, get this, with the addition of dried cranberries and walnuts. yum.

http://www.joythebaker.com/blog/

Out of the Blog Womb

Today, my blog is birthed. First thing first, I will give a brief description of my title "honey bee and the pink flamingo." Honey bee refers to my interest in bee keeping (I recently inherited every office of The College of Wooster's bee keeping club, Honey House, being that I am the sole remaining member). Honey bees are amazing creatures that benefit life all over the world, especially as they are necessary for the pollination of crops. In fact, 1/3 of the food you eat directly or indirectly relies on being pollinated by honey bees. Plus, we get honey, and Greek baklava just wouldn't be the same without honey. How fascinating that these little creatures, often written off as pests, are so important in that everything-is-connected sort of way.... honey bees are friends, not foes!
Check out this USDA website link to learn more about the benefits of bees and why the honey bee epidemic directly effects us:

http://www.ars.usda.gov/is/AR/archive/mar04/form0304.pdf

Pink Flamingo comes from the idea that the plastic pink flamingo is a symbol of American wealth and waste — we are putting plastic pink birds in our yard while others struggle to put food on the table. As I contemplated this one day after a discussion with some friends, I came up with this little rendition of "Tiger Tiger Burning Bright," and it may not be great, but I enjoyed writing it...

Pink Flamingo burning bright

In the suburbs of Cleveland Heights

What offended moral eye

Didst burn you ‘neath the cherry tree?

Under what smoggy city skyline

Do the homeless — shivering — dine

Over the fire of your plastic hide

With only the stars in which to confide?

And what bleeding heart and what damage

Can be mended by poisonous rage?

And when the plane’s roar is heard

Will it all be suddenly absurd?

What the siren? What the cuffs?

As the famished flee without enough.

What the shank? What bloody hand

Reaches out like a sailor spotting land?

When the bombs drop and the money flows

And empty bullets kill killing pros

Do we lay awake, staring at ceilings in misery

Calling from under our silk sheets, “why, why, why me?”

Pink Flamingo burning bright

In the suburbs of Cleveland Heights

What offended moral eye

Didst burn you ‘neath the cherry tree?


All for now. Remember to support your local farmers, it is National Farmer's Market Week!
Cheers, yo.