Ted Kooser, Bath Time and Me

The boys try to make sure they get a bath at least once a day, and a lot of times they try for two. I sure wish they had some bath toys. Whether they succeed or not (in two baths versus one), depends on whether or not their mother feels like indulging them.



Mommy's idea of a bath is slightly different from theirs. Self-indulgence at its finest. I was given permission to take a bubble bath today, and so I did.



Bath and Body Works even invented this fine little gadget for me. I've been dieing to give it a go. I tried it out for the first time today, and I must admit. I like.

I know I told you I was done with the Valentine posts, but just for you (actually, more for me), I bring you one of my favorites from the latest poetry book of Ted Kooser's I recently picked up. It goes something like this:

Splitting An Order

I like to watch an old man cutting a sandwich in half,
maybe an ordinary cold roast beef on whole wheat bread,
no pickles or onion, keeping his shaky hands steady
by placing his forearms firm on the edge of the table
and using both hands, the left to hold the sandwich in place,
and the right to cut it surely, corner to corner,
observing his progress through glasses that moments before
he wiped with his napkin, and then to see him lift half
onto the extra plate that he had asked the server to bring,
and then to wait, offering the plate to his wife
while she slowly unrolls her napkin and places her spoon,
her knife and her fork in their proper places,
then smoothes the starched white napkin over her knees
and meets his eyes and holds out both old hands to him.

If we're lucky, that will be Craig and I someday. *sigh*