I’m in a pickle. Should I cook the vegetables or leave them raw?
When life gives me lemons should I make lemonade?
Or should I buy the minute-maid lemonade?
And by chopping down the lemon tree not have any more lemons.
No more lemons means no more sour.
No more broken eggs or spilled milk to cry about.
In a nut shell, we all want to butcher our cows to end the mooing.
Sleeping, or possibly dreaming, that’s where the carrot and stick are.
Sugar plums are a hard nut to crack.
When the cow is no longer breathing and its lasagna is all over the ground, what is it thinking?
That’s a hot potato.
That’s what makes a mouth water for so long before bitting into the morsel.
That would make you nutty as a fruitcake.
The bad eggs’ crack and the cream of the crops cup of dirt.
Rejected by the apple of your eye and the gravy trains work.
The big blue cheese and the juice stewers.
Bad bruises for good apples.
He could take his own life like a piece of cake.
Too much frosting will smother a cake.
Being worth one’s salt but getting pepper.
But still be afraid of the hotdogs contents.
Once you put in the spices you can’t take them out.
Makes us keep the oven on and the spices out.
Instead of just putting in the spices and leaving your taste buds to suffer.
Cooking up a storm makes you a cream puff.
This is our cup of tea.
I get myself into a stew over thinking about it.
It’s a big enchilada of a decision.
Once you think about it your goose is cooked.
Beautiful Ophelia, you’re a bowl of cherries.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.