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| Image source: Gisela Giardino |
The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts. -Bertrand Russell
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Monday, March 31, 2014
Quote of the Week
We are each gifted in a unique and important way. It is our privilege and our adventure to discover our own special light. - Evelyn Dunbar
We are who we are supposed to be. The adventure is figuring out what makes us who we are. This isn't a one-time thing, though. As we grow and change, we learn more about ourselves and our gifts and talents. Be who you are and let your light shine.
We are who we are supposed to be. The adventure is figuring out what makes us who we are. This isn't a one-time thing, though. As we grow and change, we learn more about ourselves and our gifts and talents. Be who you are and let your light shine.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
This One's For Rosie!
My name is Jenny Franklin. I work with PartyPail.com; my job is to search blogs such as yours for individuals who put a great deal of effort into making birthdays extra special.
I am writing you because of your post on Rosie's 16th birthday party. If anyone deserves a birthday party, it certainly is a cat that's lived 16 years! On behalf of PartyPail.com I would like to award you the "Best Decorations" badge. Little Rosie is so adorable!
Thank you, Jenny. I was surprised and pleased to have Rosie's party post selected. Of course, I accept this award in memory of Rosie, after all it was his party.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Quote of the Week
I don't like that man. I must get to know him better.- Abraham Lincoln
To me this is an odd phrase, and not something we hear often, if ever at all. Usually if we don't like someone, we tend to avoid them if we can, or if not, hopefully we practice civil tolerance.
Mr. Lincoln deals with this a bit differently. It sounds as if his initial dislike of a person intrigues him, as if he is saying to himself, "I don't like him. Why is that?" In getting to know him better he may either decide he does, in fact, like him, or that indeed, he does not, but now he has a clear picture of why.
What are your thoughts on this?
Monday, March 17, 2014
Quote of the Week
For each petal on the shamrock
This brings a wish your way
Good health, good luck, and happiness
For today and every day.
(unknown)
For a little history of St. Patrick's Day, check out this post
I wrote this a few years ago.
Have fun and stay safe!
Monday, March 10, 2014
Quote of the Week
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky. - Rabindranath Tagore
Sunsets are like snowflakes, no two are alike, because no two clouds are alike. Even those that brought forth rain or storm, when spent, will glow peacefully as the sun bids us good night.
Sunsets are like snowflakes, no two are alike, because no two clouds are alike. Even those that brought forth rain or storm, when spent, will glow peacefully as the sun bids us good night.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
What is a Nebelung?
I often told Rosie that they broke the mold when they made him, that he was one of a kind and there would never be another like him. Yes, I do talk to my cats, and we had some interesting conversations in spite of the fact that neither of us knew what the other was saying.
When asked what kind of cat he was, I had no answer. For years I wondered what his parents might have looked like. His coloring was that of a Russian Blue, but they were short haired, and his hair was anything but short, and I was among those who had never heard of a Nebelung.
Quite often Rosie would lay in my lap while I was on the computer, so one night I was sitting there missing him and I Googled "long-haired gray cat with green eyes." Imagine my surprise when I found this video.
He was born in 1997 and considering the breed has only been in existence since the mid 1980s and I only found two Nebelung breeders in the U.S. (neither in my area), he may not have been a purebred, but he definitely had the characteristics and personality of the breed.
Here's a little history on the origin of the Nebelung. Siegfried, born in 1984, was the first registered Nebelung. His parents were a black domestic shorthair named Elsa and a black longhair that resembled an Angora. Later, Brunhilde was born, and this was the foundation for the Nebelung breed. The breed standard was written by owner, Cora Cobb, based on the standard for the Russian Blue, with the difference being the coat length. The name Nebelung comes from the German word nebel, meaning fog or mist.
Here are more pictures of my "creature of the mist":
This one shows off his magnificent mane.
Look at those eyes!
A little desk time with mama.
It just didn't get any better than this.
I miss you my friend.
I miss you my friend.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Quote of the Week
Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be.
- Rick Warren
Life is a series of journeys, and on every journey there are three points; the starting point (A), the mid point (B) and the arrival (C).
While you can't get from point A to point C without going through point B, everything you experience between A and B will lay the groundwork for as you continue your journey to C.
- Rick Warren
Life is a series of journeys, and on every journey there are three points; the starting point (A), the mid point (B) and the arrival (C).
While you can't get from point A to point C without going through point B, everything you experience between A and B will lay the groundwork for as you continue your journey to C.
Friday, February 28, 2014
It's A Wrap
It is the 28th and final day of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is And then my brain exploded. Congratulations to all the other participants. We made it!
As the sun sets upon the 2014 30 minus 2 Days of Writing Challenge, we take a look back at the past 28 days.
We laughed, we cried, we lied, some made it, some faked it. It was chaos, it was a dream, but it was no accident.
We ate gouda, and drank vodka and left the empty bottles all over the floor. Hint, hint, we need a maid.
And then she said, "damn, did you post that on Facebook"? How did you find out? Uh...there are things best left unsaid.
We fended off zombies, aliens and succubi which left us scatterbrained, naked and lost. Some developed temporary insanity and played Dylan tunes endlessly. Can you turn that down? My ears are ringing!
We took this challenge on one bite at a time, and it tasted like chicken. Some swore in their best Shakespearean English that they would participate in another challenge when Hell freezes over. Others just went incommunicado.
We shared good times, made new friends, and caught up with old friends.
But when all was said and done, mon cerveau a explosé!
As the sun sets upon the 2014 30 minus 2 Days of Writing Challenge, we take a look back at the past 28 days.
We laughed, we cried, we lied, some made it, some faked it. It was chaos, it was a dream, but it was no accident.
We ate gouda, and drank vodka and left the empty bottles all over the floor. Hint, hint, we need a maid.
And then she said, "damn, did you post that on Facebook"? How did you find out? Uh...there are things best left unsaid.
We fended off zombies, aliens and succubi which left us scatterbrained, naked and lost. Some developed temporary insanity and played Dylan tunes endlessly. Can you turn that down? My ears are ringing!
We took this challenge on one bite at a time, and it tasted like chicken. Some swore in their best Shakespearean English that they would participate in another challenge when Hell freezes over. Others just went incommunicado.
We shared good times, made new friends, and caught up with old friends.
But when all was said and done, mon cerveau a explosé!
Thursday, February 27, 2014
The Last Laugh
It is day 27 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is How did you find out. Check out WWFC to find out what everyone else is up to.
Once they were back on the main road Charlie and Alex found a tavern and decided to wait there for their cab. It had been a long hike and they were ready to slack their thirst so they ordered up a couple pints and settled in to wait. The dispatcher had said it would be about an hour.
"Well look who we have here," came an unfamiliar voice from across the room.
Charlie and Alex looked up to see an olive-skinned man with his black hair pulled back, wearing an expensive suit approaching them. "Who are you?" asked Charlie.
"I heard you were looking for me. My name is Jorge Hernandez. I think you have something that belongs to me."
"And what might that be?" asked Charlie. His mind racing now, the police must be in cahoots with Jorge, and whatever is in that briefcase will incriminate both Jorge and the police, or at least the Sergeant.
"I think you know. Now if you will just hand over the briefcase."
"How did you find out we were coming to talk to you?" asked Alex, as he took a step backward and to the right. This action shielded his right side from Jorge, just in case...
"Why a little bird told me. You see, Sergeant Ricardo works for me," said Jorge as if that explained it all, and frankly it explained a lot. "Since you won't be leaving here," Jorge patted his side, "there's no reason I shouldn't tell you. I believe a condemned man should know why he's dying."
Alex stood still, only a slight nod to Charlie told him he understood the plan. They would just let Jorge talk, and talk he did.
"You see Tomas found out that I was skimming some money from the company and using it to fund my...uh... business. He gathered records...heck he even hired a private investigator to get pictures of me and my associates. He was carrying those back to the Colombian authorities, but since the good Sergeant is in my pocket, so to speak, he arranged to have him and the evidence disappear. So that is why I can't let you leave," Jorge concluded.
So the contracts Tomas was working on were just a story for his wife, and for obvious reasons he couldn't tell her the truth. But they had the evidence, and now it was time to put their plan into action.
Jorge pulled his gun. "Now place your guns on the table." Not wanting to risk a shooting in the tavern, they complied.
"OK, but not here," Charlie indicated the tavern keeper and a few patrons along the bar nursing their beers, trying not to notice what was going on. No one wanted to get involved.
As they moved to the parking lot, Charlie said "NOW." Alex spun, catching Jorge's ankles and knocking him to the ground. Drawing his backup gun, Alex said "Stay down, hands behind your head. Charlie couldn't resist saying, "you really didn't think you could take on the FBI did you," as he grabbed the gun.
"That was way too easy," grinned Alex. His grin faded as he heard the familiar sound of a pump shotgun. Jorge got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his suit. "You really didn't think I would come here alone did you, Mr. FBI man?"
As they turned to face Sergeant Ricardo, dressed in his uniform so everything would look official and above board, Jorge took his gun back and theirs too. He motioned them toward the Jeep with the barrel of the gun. It would look like he was escorting prisoners.
Charlie said, "I'm sorry Alex."
"It's okay Charlie, it's not your fault and besides we're not giving up."
Before they reached the Jeep, their taxi came barreling into the parking lot, throwing gravel and kicking up a cloud of dust. It was just those few seconds of chaos that gave Alex and Charlie the break they needed. Alex lunged at the Sergeant and struggled for the shotgun. Just as Jorge started to raise his gun, the shotgun fired striking Jorge in the shoulder. With Alex controlling the shotgun, Charlie promptly relieved Jorge of his gun for the last time.
"You know my Mama always said, 'he who laughs last, laughs the loudest'. Guess who's laughing now, Jorge?"
Case closed.
To catch up with the story so far:
Beyond the Window
Risky Business
Aliens, Really?
The Colombians
The Key
Stranded
Once they were back on the main road Charlie and Alex found a tavern and decided to wait there for their cab. It had been a long hike and they were ready to slack their thirst so they ordered up a couple pints and settled in to wait. The dispatcher had said it would be about an hour.
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| Image Source: Wikipedia |
Charlie and Alex looked up to see an olive-skinned man with his black hair pulled back, wearing an expensive suit approaching them. "Who are you?" asked Charlie.
"I heard you were looking for me. My name is Jorge Hernandez. I think you have something that belongs to me."
"And what might that be?" asked Charlie. His mind racing now, the police must be in cahoots with Jorge, and whatever is in that briefcase will incriminate both Jorge and the police, or at least the Sergeant.
"I think you know. Now if you will just hand over the briefcase."
"How did you find out we were coming to talk to you?" asked Alex, as he took a step backward and to the right. This action shielded his right side from Jorge, just in case...
"Why a little bird told me. You see, Sergeant Ricardo works for me," said Jorge as if that explained it all, and frankly it explained a lot. "Since you won't be leaving here," Jorge patted his side, "there's no reason I shouldn't tell you. I believe a condemned man should know why he's dying."
Alex stood still, only a slight nod to Charlie told him he understood the plan. They would just let Jorge talk, and talk he did.
"You see Tomas found out that I was skimming some money from the company and using it to fund my...uh... business. He gathered records...heck he even hired a private investigator to get pictures of me and my associates. He was carrying those back to the Colombian authorities, but since the good Sergeant is in my pocket, so to speak, he arranged to have him and the evidence disappear. So that is why I can't let you leave," Jorge concluded.
So the contracts Tomas was working on were just a story for his wife, and for obvious reasons he couldn't tell her the truth. But they had the evidence, and now it was time to put their plan into action.
"OK, but not here," Charlie indicated the tavern keeper and a few patrons along the bar nursing their beers, trying not to notice what was going on. No one wanted to get involved.
As they moved to the parking lot, Charlie said "NOW." Alex spun, catching Jorge's ankles and knocking him to the ground. Drawing his backup gun, Alex said "Stay down, hands behind your head. Charlie couldn't resist saying, "you really didn't think you could take on the FBI did you," as he grabbed the gun.
"That was way too easy," grinned Alex. His grin faded as he heard the familiar sound of a pump shotgun. Jorge got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his suit. "You really didn't think I would come here alone did you, Mr. FBI man?"
As they turned to face Sergeant Ricardo, dressed in his uniform so everything would look official and above board, Jorge took his gun back and theirs too. He motioned them toward the Jeep with the barrel of the gun. It would look like he was escorting prisoners.
Charlie said, "I'm sorry Alex."
"It's okay Charlie, it's not your fault and besides we're not giving up."
Before they reached the Jeep, their taxi came barreling into the parking lot, throwing gravel and kicking up a cloud of dust. It was just those few seconds of chaos that gave Alex and Charlie the break they needed. Alex lunged at the Sergeant and struggled for the shotgun. Just as Jorge started to raise his gun, the shotgun fired striking Jorge in the shoulder. With Alex controlling the shotgun, Charlie promptly relieved Jorge of his gun for the last time.
"You know my Mama always said, 'he who laughs last, laughs the loudest'. Guess who's laughing now, Jorge?"
Case closed.
To catch up with the story so far:
Beyond the Window
Risky Business
Aliens, Really?
The Colombians
The Key
Stranded
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Stranded
It is day 26 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is Naked and Lost. Head on over to WWFC to find out how the writing-weary participants handled this one.
"Sergeant" called Charlie again, "We're ready to go!"
No answer.
"Alex, can you see the jeep?"
"Nope. How far did we walk anyway?"
Feeling a little uneasy now, Charlie said "let's retrace our steps and get back to the Jeep."
What he didn't say was if the Jeep was still there. The Sergeant should have heard him, but then he hadn't seemed all that enthusiastic to assist them either, but had to follow the Captain's orders. The Captain, himself, was not very forthcoming with information either.
Having made their way back to what passed for a road in the midst of the jungle-like surroundings, they discovered that indeed the Jeep was gone.
"Well, now that sucks," said Alex, as they both started checking their cell phones...no signal.
"We start walking" said Charlie. He estimated they were about five miles from main road. "We'll just walk out and maybe we can get a ride back into town."
Being the senior agent, Charlie figured the odds of getting a ride were slim to none. These people didn't want them here, and locals who would otherwise do a good turn for someone needing help, would think twice now. This only confirmed his theory that someone here was behind the plane crash and didn't want their secret revealed.
What had started out as a recon of the crash site, turned into a forced march through a jungle filled with hazards, armed with their guns and cell phone with no service. Still the odds were in their favor if they reached the road before dark.
Aloud he said "at least we're not naked and lost in the jungle."
"Good point."
As they trudged along the rutted dirt road, each absorbed in their own thoughts, a couple of brightly colored parrots squawked loudly, startling them.
"Did you jump, Alex" teased Charlie.
"Of course not. I just stumbled over a root."
"Me too." admitted Charlie. "I've been thinking about the case. First nobody in the States had any information, then there was the crazy housekeeper who kept talking about aliens, and now we are stranded in a South American jungle. I hope Jorge has some information, but we'll process the briefcase before question him."
Alex was silent and sensing his concern, Charlie said "Don't fret, this may be your first field case, but I've been around the block a few times. We keep walking...we should reach the main road in about half an hour. We'll have cell service so we can call for a taxi."
"You hear that? Sounds like a truck so, the road must be close by. Check your phone. I've got signal."
"You call us a taxi, Alex. I'll call the Captain to inform him of his Sergeant's behavior, that is unless he's in on it too. In which case we've just tipped our hand. No, on second thought I'll hold off on making that call until I know who we can trust."
Check back tomorrow to see how they wrap up the case.
To catch up with the story so far:
Beyond the Window
Risky Business
Aliens, Really?
The Colombians
The Key
"Sergeant" called Charlie again, "We're ready to go!"
No answer.
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| Image Source: Wikipedia |
"Alex, can you see the jeep?"
"Nope. How far did we walk anyway?"
Feeling a little uneasy now, Charlie said "let's retrace our steps and get back to the Jeep."
What he didn't say was if the Jeep was still there. The Sergeant should have heard him, but then he hadn't seemed all that enthusiastic to assist them either, but had to follow the Captain's orders. The Captain, himself, was not very forthcoming with information either.
Having made their way back to what passed for a road in the midst of the jungle-like surroundings, they discovered that indeed the Jeep was gone.
"Well, now that sucks," said Alex, as they both started checking their cell phones...no signal.
"We start walking" said Charlie. He estimated they were about five miles from main road. "We'll just walk out and maybe we can get a ride back into town."
Being the senior agent, Charlie figured the odds of getting a ride were slim to none. These people didn't want them here, and locals who would otherwise do a good turn for someone needing help, would think twice now. This only confirmed his theory that someone here was behind the plane crash and didn't want their secret revealed.
What had started out as a recon of the crash site, turned into a forced march through a jungle filled with hazards, armed with their guns and cell phone with no service. Still the odds were in their favor if they reached the road before dark.
Aloud he said "at least we're not naked and lost in the jungle."
"Good point."
As they trudged along the rutted dirt road, each absorbed in their own thoughts, a couple of brightly colored parrots squawked loudly, startling them.
"Did you jump, Alex" teased Charlie.
"Of course not. I just stumbled over a root."
"Me too." admitted Charlie. "I've been thinking about the case. First nobody in the States had any information, then there was the crazy housekeeper who kept talking about aliens, and now we are stranded in a South American jungle. I hope Jorge has some information, but we'll process the briefcase before question him."
Alex was silent and sensing his concern, Charlie said "Don't fret, this may be your first field case, but I've been around the block a few times. We keep walking...we should reach the main road in about half an hour. We'll have cell service so we can call for a taxi."
"You hear that? Sounds like a truck so, the road must be close by. Check your phone. I've got signal."
"You call us a taxi, Alex. I'll call the Captain to inform him of his Sergeant's behavior, that is unless he's in on it too. In which case we've just tipped our hand. No, on second thought I'll hold off on making that call until I know who we can trust."
Check back tomorrow to see how they wrap up the case.
To catch up with the story so far:
Beyond the Window
Risky Business
Aliens, Really?
The Colombians
The Key
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
The Key?
It is day 25 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is Social Media. I hear there's a party over at WWFC if you need more socializing.
The FBI jet touched down in Colombia late Friday night. Alex had leftover fortune cookies for his dinner. "Good thing I got extra" he joked. "The last one said 'don't drink the water'. Ha!"
Charlie and Alex were met by the Colombian police, and they weren't looking all that friendly. "I understand you're here investigating the plane crash. "It went down in an isolated area with rugged terrain. Will you be wanting to visit the site" asked the officer who was apparently in charge, likely the captain.
"Yes" said Charlie. "We would like to go there first thing in the morning. Can you arrange for our transport to the hotel?"
"Yes" was the brusque response. "Sergeant, please escort these agents to the hotel and see that they have whatever they need."
"Thank you Captain, good night."
Charlie and Alex climbed into the police car and off they went, arriving at the hotel in 20 minutes. They checked in and ordered up some room service so they could get started and lay out a plan for tomorrow. "What'll it be tonight? Burgers or some local fare?"
"Anything but Chinese, I don't need any more good fortunes," laughed Alex, checking Facebook. "You won't believe what Diane is saying about me. She thinks I made it up, that I'm really out on the town tonight. Ha! I'm really living it up right?"
"What did you tell her anyway. Never mind, I don't want to know" said Charlie shaking his head. Alex fancied himself quite the ladies man.
After chowing down on a large plate of empanadas and tamales, they got down to brass tacks. "We'll visit the crash site first then we'll talk to everyone who ever had contact with Tomas. His company has an office here. Opening yet another file, "it says here a Jorge Hernendez is the manager. He's been there for about two years. Maybe he knows something...if he'll talk.
The alarm rings at 6:00 and after a breakfast of fresh fruit and Spanish tortillas, they met the Sergent to drive to the crash site, or at least as far as they could go by jeep. They had to hike the rest of the way. "Why didn't I think to bring insect repellent," complained Alex to no one in particular?
"At least it went down over land. We could be wearing flippers instead of hiking boots," said Charlie, swatting another mosquito.
As they suspected, there was not much left of the plane, but they wanted to look at it with fresh eyes. They rummaged through undergrowth and down ravines, then suddenly Alex hollers, "hey Charlie, I think I may have found something."
Between the fire that raged through the wreckage, and the subsequent rain, most of the personal effects of the passengers was destroyed. However, Alex found the remnants of a briefcase. It had been thrown so far from the plane it survived the fire, and the local investigators had missed it.
"Good job Alex," Charlie congratulated. "Maybe that briefcase holds the key to who wanted who dead. In the meantime, we go see Mr. Hernendez."
"Sergeant, we're ready to go now."
To catch up with the story so far:
Beyond the Window
Risky Business
Aliens, Really?
The Colombians
The FBI jet touched down in Colombia late Friday night. Alex had leftover fortune cookies for his dinner. "Good thing I got extra" he joked. "The last one said 'don't drink the water'. Ha!"
Charlie and Alex were met by the Colombian police, and they weren't looking all that friendly. "I understand you're here investigating the plane crash. "It went down in an isolated area with rugged terrain. Will you be wanting to visit the site" asked the officer who was apparently in charge, likely the captain.
"Yes" said Charlie. "We would like to go there first thing in the morning. Can you arrange for our transport to the hotel?"
"Yes" was the brusque response. "Sergeant, please escort these agents to the hotel and see that they have whatever they need."
"Thank you Captain, good night."
Charlie and Alex climbed into the police car and off they went, arriving at the hotel in 20 minutes. They checked in and ordered up some room service so they could get started and lay out a plan for tomorrow. "What'll it be tonight? Burgers or some local fare?"
"Anything but Chinese, I don't need any more good fortunes," laughed Alex, checking Facebook. "You won't believe what Diane is saying about me. She thinks I made it up, that I'm really out on the town tonight. Ha! I'm really living it up right?"
"What did you tell her anyway. Never mind, I don't want to know" said Charlie shaking his head. Alex fancied himself quite the ladies man.
After chowing down on a large plate of empanadas and tamales, they got down to brass tacks. "We'll visit the crash site first then we'll talk to everyone who ever had contact with Tomas. His company has an office here. Opening yet another file, "it says here a Jorge Hernendez is the manager. He's been there for about two years. Maybe he knows something...if he'll talk.
The alarm rings at 6:00 and after a breakfast of fresh fruit and Spanish tortillas, they met the Sergent to drive to the crash site, or at least as far as they could go by jeep. They had to hike the rest of the way. "Why didn't I think to bring insect repellent," complained Alex to no one in particular?
"At least it went down over land. We could be wearing flippers instead of hiking boots," said Charlie, swatting another mosquito.
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| Image Source: Wikipedia |
Between the fire that raged through the wreckage, and the subsequent rain, most of the personal effects of the passengers was destroyed. However, Alex found the remnants of a briefcase. It had been thrown so far from the plane it survived the fire, and the local investigators had missed it.
"Good job Alex," Charlie congratulated. "Maybe that briefcase holds the key to who wanted who dead. In the meantime, we go see Mr. Hernendez."
"Sergeant, we're ready to go now."
To catch up with the story so far:
Beyond the Window
Risky Business
Aliens, Really?
The Colombians
Monday, February 24, 2014
Quote of the Week
It is day 24 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is And then she said. To find out more about what was said, get thee post haste to WWFC.
"The world is your kumquat" she said. She was always saying quirky things like that.
"What does that mean" he asked?
"What do you think it means?"
"Why do you always answer a question with a question?"
"Moms are like that sometimes."
And then she said...
Sometimes questions are more important than answers.
- Nancy Willard, American Poet
Why would she say that? There always seems to be more questions than answers. Maybe she means that when we stop asking questions, we stop learning and that is important no matter what the answers are.
"The world is your kumquat" she said. She was always saying quirky things like that.
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| Image Source: Adam Fagen |
"What does that mean" he asked?
"What do you think it means?"
"Why do you always answer a question with a question?"
"Moms are like that sometimes."
And then she said...
Sometimes questions are more important than answers.
- Nancy Willard, American Poet
Why would she say that? There always seems to be more questions than answers. Maybe she means that when we stop asking questions, we stop learning and that is important no matter what the answers are.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Life
It is day 23 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is There are things. For more insight into all kinds of things, head over to WWFC.
There are things that make me
There are things that make me
Happy
Sad
Angry
Frustrated
Crazy
There are things that make me
Smile
Laugh
Cry
Shriek
Pout
There are things that make me
Run
Jump
Dance
Skip
Sing
What are all these things?
Life!
Saturday, February 22, 2014
It's Only A Dream
It is day 22 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is It's only a dream. Head on over to WWFC for a peek into some more dreams.
Fear rises, heart pounds
Silent scream, frozen in place
Eyes open, relieved
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| Image Source: BiblioMama |
How often have you had a scary dream and were able to wake yourself up? It seems when I'm having a dream that I know is going to end badly for me, I manage to wake up before anything happens. Sometimes it me waking up just in time, but other times it is actually me telling myself that this is not real...it's only a dream.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Pizza Pizza!
It is day 21 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is Yes, I made that. Head on over to WWFC to see what the other participants have cooked up.
Who doesn't love pizza? I always look forward to pizza night, which is usually every other weekend. There are a number of places nearby that would be happy to deliver us the semi-hot pizza of our choice for $9.99 or whatever is the deal of the day.
However, according to my husband, the best pizza doesn't require a phone call, an internet connection or a tip for the driver. The best pizza place is our own kitchen.
Start with a ball of homemade dough, add sauce, cheese and your favorite toppings and bake. Then sit back with your favorite beverage and lose yourself in the deliciousness that is pizza. This is my favorite, pepperoni and onion.
Lest you think I do it all, it is a team effort. Hubby takes it out of the oven, slices it and serves it up.
Who doesn't love pizza? I always look forward to pizza night, which is usually every other weekend. There are a number of places nearby that would be happy to deliver us the semi-hot pizza of our choice for $9.99 or whatever is the deal of the day.
However, according to my husband, the best pizza doesn't require a phone call, an internet connection or a tip for the driver. The best pizza place is our own kitchen.
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| Yes, I made that. |
Lest you think I do it all, it is a team effort. Hubby takes it out of the oven, slices it and serves it up.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Chaos
It is day 20 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is Chaos. For more chaotic tales check out WFCC.
This is my brain on 30M2DoW. When you write it like that it sounds like some deadly chemical or a drug used for mind control. Oh no! Anyone know if there's an antidote?
This is my brain on 30M2DoW. When you write it like that it sounds like some deadly chemical or a drug used for mind control. Oh no! Anyone know if there's an antidote?
Troubled brain
Clogged up
Bogged down
No refrain
My eyes close
Freaking
Shrieking
Panic grows
My eyes open
Blinking
Thinking
Start again
Clogged up
Bogged down
No refrain
My eyes close
Freaking
Shrieking
Panic grows
My eyes open
Blinking
Thinking
Start again
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Alligator's Anonymous
It is day 19 of the Third Second Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese and today's prompt is Tastes Like Chicken. Now fly on over to WWFC for more tasty treats.
"Hi, my name is Albert, and I'm an alligator."
"Hi Albert! Would you like to tell us a little about yourself and what brings you here?"
"I don't taste like chicken. I hate it when people compare me to a such a fowl creature."
"You tell it Albert. Let it all out!"
Albert continued.
"I am strong and powerful, and I eat chickens. I will not be compared to the likes of those scrawny-legged wimps. They are just...well, chicken. Where do you think the phrase chicken-hearted comes from."
Clapping and cheers errupted from the others which validated Albert's feelings.
"Whoo...You go Albert...Yeah!"
"Hi, my name is Albert, and I'm an alligator."
"Hi Albert! Would you like to tell us a little about yourself and what brings you here?"
"I don't taste like chicken. I hate it when people compare me to a such a fowl creature."
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| Image Source: toonpool.com |
"You tell it Albert. Let it all out!"
Albert continued.
"I am strong and powerful, and I eat chickens. I will not be compared to the likes of those scrawny-legged wimps. They are just...well, chicken. Where do you think the phrase chicken-hearted comes from."
Clapping and cheers errupted from the others which validated Albert's feelings.
"Whoo...You go Albert...Yeah!"
*******
So what else can you find when you Google "tastes like chicken"?
Behold! A band named Tastes Like Chicken.
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