Caged by expectations

Feeling caged by expectations.
Being within the womb
seeking release and freedom

Seasoned within the crockpot
cooking on a gentle eddy.
Out opens the lid of the pan, and in reaches this big wooden spoon. Coming in now to stir you up and get you going.

EIgh, we have been in here quite some time. We were quite comfortable in our sealed bag for so many years. Almost twenty minutes ago, we were dumped out into this H..O...T.. bath. We were quite getting used to our swim through this pot. Now to get poked. All this commotion now. "What are you up to ?" We knew we would eventually end up here now. But our cousins never warned us about what was ahead.


Cooking for me is something that I do not do often. I mainly like to eat out and have the food prepared for me. One place that I enjoy going to eat is at Seattle Coffee at the Borders bookstore and cafe in Milford. As I walk up to the counter, I see overhead a display of a large red and white coffee cup that is sitting on a saucer with a spoon sticking out of it.

In front of me are a variety of choices ranging from an herbed cheese pretzel, a little italy sandwich, cheese and tomato sandwich and then I have choices of various mixed drinks of

Yet when I do cook I enjoy cooking pasta and enjoy seeing how the cheese is caged within the ravioli and enjoy watching the pot of water rotating the ravioli back and forth. When I was born, I did not really enjoy eating. Yet, when my german Nana Puhkit sat for me while my parents went out for a movie,