In case you were too lazy to click on the links from Saturday Steals, I’ve done all the work for you. Here’s what my Trusty Theives (oxymoron?) stole this week slash month:

Marilyn made a picture swap, stealing a cute picture from a yucky frame and coming up with this (much better) combination. $5.

Irene got a whole bunch of stuff free in the mail (this is a sneaky picture of her box of goodies…you have to click over to her blog to see what was inside). Free.

DeAnna scored winter gear for her kids for more than 50% off at Children’s Place. $99.73.

Chloe landed this awesome suitcase—big enough for both her and her almost-husband’s clothes—just for booking a honeymoon through a generous travel agency. Free.

Angela found this yellow couch—described as “perfect,” and I heartily agree—from a mystery source (I’m guessing Craigslist) and promptly took it home for lounging purposes. $50.

And Shesten bought Fat Vampire (I like it just for the cover) and sundry other delights from Amazon.com. $4.18 (et al).

Thanks, everyone, for participating in Saturday Steals even though I am pathetic and have mostly abandoned my blog for good.

Remember, there will be no Saturday Steals for the duration of November. The next chance to show off your goods will be the first weekend in December.

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And now, because I am fighting a serious case of guilt for neglecting my blog so tremendously, I have a treat for you.

A poem.

Written by yours truly.

First poem I’ve written since high school. (And even then it was only in jest. I hated poetry, always have. Although some of those high school masterpieces were pretty catchy if my memory serves. Maybe I’ll dig through The Original Archives sometime and publish them here. I’m a regular Emily Dickinson you know.)

I’m submitting it to my Creative Writing class for workshopping. I’m a bit nervous about that. So I figure I might as well get the worst of it over with and share it for you guys, the critics I’m more worried about pleasing…

I Guess That’s Progress
by cpsf

I guess that’s progress.

You and me
We has had have the same quarrels
But are not quite as mad
As we would have been
This time last year.

I guess it’s progress
When even though
We still can’t read each others’ minds like Edward Bella
We at least know when the other
Is pissed
Or will be pissed
Or nearly was pissed.
(Close call.)

I guess that’s progress.

Is it progress
When I still hate making your lunches every night for the next day
Just like I always have
Only now I actually make them
Instead of ignoring them
And falling asleep
Still ignoring them?

Is it progress
When you still hate eating the leftovers I pack in your lunch
Only now you actually eat them
Instead of flat out refusing?

Your nose still shrivels in the face of your great misfortunes but you eat the leftovers. Even the mushroom chicken casserole that needed salt the Lipton soup that wasn’t very good in the first place and the rice. The rice that you thought would be the death of you. Those tiny grains of rice.

It may be progress I suppose.

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