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Pickled

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too
~Shel Silverstein
from the book "Where the Sidewalk Ends" (1974)

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Went for a ride in a flying shoe.
"Hooray!"
"What fun!"
"It's time we flew!"
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle was captain, and Pickle was crew
And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew
As higher
And higher
And higher they flew,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,
Over the sun and beyond the blue.
"Hold on!"
"Stay in!"
"I hope we do!"
Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle too
Never returned to the world they knew,
And nobody
Knows what's
Happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Although I have not yet pickled myself today, I did (hopefully) pickle a bunch of cucumbers with a TON of help from a friend.  She has the knowledge and skills.  I have empty jars.  Actually, I'm waiting for the pings to tell me all went well.  Plus, I used this chilly day to sweep out the garage while my kitchen (and remainder of living quarters) was fermenting in the smell of vinegar.  Perhaps the smell isn't quite gone, but I have cleaned up the kitchen (including the floors) and have candles and open windows helping with the process.  Now, I need to hear PING!

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