An answer to every question

[Joy Beeson]

I found an old poem while looking for something else on Drive C Transportation and Recreation (or, I Would Kill for Ben and Jerry) By now, I have an answer for every question. When they ask where I'm going, I name my next rest stop and so give a true answer which might be believed. When they ask "Can you see in that wee, tiny mirror?" I say, "It is bigger than the one on my car I sat down and checked." When they ask how many miles I get to the gallon, I say, "Eighty -- eighty miles, from a gallon of water!" What my vehicle really runs on, when I take it shopping, is bagels and soup. Or, depending on where I shop, ripe bananas and sweet, full-fat yogurt, or a mini Mr. Subb. When I go up the hill for training, I hope to buy milk and drink it with muffins. I put eighteen drops of oil into eighteen muffin tins and make a batter: one cup raisins, one cup sunflower seed one cup muffin mix, mostly whole-wheat bread flour. (I tried all-purpose white once; the muffins were revolting.) I must add some sort of sugar sometimes honey, sometimes syrup, sometimes malt. Three or four overripe bananas are very, very good. Once, I used molasses, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. The smell was heavenly, the taste was divine until I tried to *eat* them at mile twenty-nine. The sun it was blazing, my skin was salt grit, And a warm, spicy muffin just wouldn't fit. My muffins are bland, I bake them on rest days I freeze them in plastic, I pack them still frozen, wrapped in my jacket, they keep good for hours. "What do tourists speak of, when lounging at rest stops? Do you talk about dangers, about mean dogs and potholes, and drivers so rude? The answer, "Why madam, we talk about food." Joy Beeson May, 1993 ----------------------------- The aroma was heavenly, the taste was divine Until I tried to eat one at mile number nine under a blazing sun, wearing salt-gritty skin. No way would spiced muffins e'er go within. And ginger and cinnamon just weren't it. ...