I love this poem by Ginger Andrews about the therapeutic power of baking something delicious like a chocolate cake. It’s creative and comforting, and who doesn’t love knowing there’s a cake in the kitchen whenever you want a slice?
by Ginger Andrews
Lying around all day
with some strange new deep blue
weekend funk, I’m not really asleep
when my sister calls
to say she’s just hung up
from talking with Aunt Bertha
who is 89 and ill but managing
to take care of Uncle Frank
who is completely bed ridden.
Aunt Bert says
it’s snowing there in Arkansas,
on Catfish Lane, and she hasn’t been
able to walk out to their mailbox.
She’s been suffering
from a bad case of the mulleygrubs.
The cure for the mulleygrubs,
she tells my sister,
is to get up and bake a cake.
If that doesn’t do it, put on a red dress.
mulleygrubs: (plural only) low spirits, mild depression, the blues.
What’s your cure for the mulleygrubs? If not baking, what works for you? Exercise? Music? Nature? Try starting a piece with: The cure for mulleygrubs is __________________.
“The Cure” by Ginger Andrews, from Hurricane Sisters, 2004, Copyrighted material used for educational or therapeutic purposes