It's all about the spice.

lucy and ricky

Lucy and Ricky were quite a pair,

with his thick Cuban accent and her red, curly hair.

Ricky worked at a nightclub and sang “Babalu,”

but Lucy wanted to be in show-business too.

He would not let her, said, “Stay home with the baby,”

but he couldn’t tell her what to do because she was a lady.

This was just the beginning of many of fights,

so a letter to her husband Mrs. Ricardo did write.

“Dear Ricky,” it started in her squabbly handwriting,

“I’m trying my hand in singing and songwriting.”

She packed up her bags, headed straight for the stage,

but before she was gone, she heard someone calling her name.

“It’s that sneaky old Cuban,” Lucy thought in her mind,

“The one that is selfish and cruel and unkind.”

“Dear Lucy,” he said, “I was terribly wrong,

let’s head to the Copa and practice our song.

I’ve decided to give you this sought-after part

because you are my wife, my lover, my heart.”



the baby workout {movie clip}


It’s a clear-blue-sky-kind-of-day, the sprinklers are on, and George Banks is headed off to work. Walking out to his car, he looks back as Franck Eggelhoffer, the eccentric wedding planner, skips into the house. He says, “Oddly enough, knowing Franck was at the house made me feel better. Although I have no idea what he did there all day…”
The furniture has been moved out of the way and we hear Franck’s thickly accented voice instructing very pregnant Annie and Nina through the “baby workout.” The women are wearing gray unitards and Franck, of course, is prancing around in his fancy vest and tie.
In the summer’s heat, their arms pumping, legs lunging, and breathing heavily, Annie and Nina are trying to stay as comfortable as possible until their upcoming due dates.

road to nowhere

pic-for-imagery-pieceThe setting sun creates a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off the wet pavement. Purples. Reds. Yellows. Greens. Oranges. Blues. I smell the fall leaves and the aftermath of a musty rain. I turn a corner and begin walking down a narrow, slippery road. The young couple walks up ahead of me and I can faintly hear their muffled voices. I try to make out exactly what they are saying, but I’m not close enough. I remain roughly fifteen yards back so as not to cause suspicion, but I know as soon as they notice me I’m done for. I avoid the puddles as much as possible but once and a while I misstep and splash into the pool of water. The rainwater soaks through my boots into my socks causing me to shiver. I sit down on a nearby bench and pull off my shoes. My head is bent down as I finish the double-knot on my shoelaces when I hear, “What do you think you’re doing here?”


There was a young girl that loved chewing gum.

She loved it because it was so minty and yum.

She told all her friends, “It helps me write better

when I’m composing a song or a story or letter.”

They all thought she was gross, she chonked like a cow,

until they read her new poem and said, “HOLY WOW!”

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