Exercise Nine

In the summer, the house grows hot, so hot
With steaming, stewing pressurized tomatoes
Deep sea green cucumbers in their baths
slowly turning to pickles in the winter.
Okra waiting patiently in a basket for
a turn at the sink,
Green beans sitting on the porch being plucked
away at until their boiling is due.
Once it's July, the whole kitchen floods
with mason jars, clear jars
quarts, half cups, pints all stacked in boxes
My mother assigns me with millions of them
and a single sharp brillo pad in the yard
Plunging my small hands into the jars
I scrub and scrub eager to hand them off to
my mother for approval. This is the task
hated most, readying the old glass banks
for prizes I would choose to never open.
Sometimes, I sneak away and bring back feathers
or plunge my toes instead into the cold hose water.

A genuine breastfeeding baby doll:

A friend of mine just came back from NYC and stayed with us for a few days before starting back to college. She and I were talking about my renewed desire to nurse until Little Berry weans herself- whenever that may be, something Pappa Starbucks is horribly against but don't get me started.
Anyway, she mentioned this doll she had seen in the city. I give you the new hip doll

that I am buying at least one of my nieces for Christmas, if only because they aren't allowed to sit in the room (seriously) while I nurse.
That teensy part on the box is a flower that ties on and the baby latches onto (magnetically I suppose):

What strikes me as funny is that Cuppycake already does this with her babies, brings them to me and tucks them in my shirt, that is. The flower part seems like it could cause some confusion. And God help those girls who will grow up thinking those first days of nursing will be "that" easy.

Photos snatched from Google images