The Little Red-Top House

Written for the 30-day creative writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  Today's prompt is Hanging out in the cemetery.  This is the 16th day of this challenge, and we've passed the halfway point.  Check out the Linky at WWFC for more telling tales from those still hanging around.

OK, now not only do we have to write about cemeteries, but about hanging out in them.  Over the years I have come to terms with cemeteries and their necessity. Cemeteries are both a part of life and death.

There was a time, however, when I studiously avoided anything to do with them.  During my teen years, my parents bought plots from a nearby cemetery that was just being developed.  It is a perpetual care cemetery which means a fund has been established for the continued maintenance of the property.  Many of the cemeteries are not allowed to have headstones, but have flat markers instead which give the cemetery a uniform look.

Getting back to the point, I thought it was morbid to even talk about cemeteries, much less buy plots, vaults, markers, and all the other things that go along with the process.  To talk about it went way beyond my coping ability.  I couldn't bear to think of my parents' passing from this life.  At that age it was a lot to comprehend, and being as close as were, it would have been devastating to me.

They, on the other hand, saw it as practical and economical.  They were right considering all those necessities cost about twice the price when purchased "at need".

Daddy would refer to their plots as the "little red-top house".  Honestly, I have no idea where this came from.  Any mention of the great beyond was known as going to the little red-top house.  Before that he called it "the happy hunting ground".  No, there is no Native American ancestry on my father's side that I know of.  It's just what he said.

Mom liked to go visit the cemetery where her relatives were buried...I thought it was creepy, almost like it was tempting fate just to be there.

Now that both my parents have moved to the "little red-top" house, I no longer find it creepy.  I still don't go very often, but with age comes a bit of understanding, and now I know what they did back then, they did not only for themselves, but for me as well.  Bless them for having made their plans years before they needed them.  By the way, they bought 4 plots.  I guess they really were planning ahead.

Now I neither like nor dislike cemeteries, but I seldom hang out there.  Ironically, I did work in the cemetery office for about a year...up until they made plans to move the office to the actual cemetery grounds.

In the First Place

Written for the 30-day creative writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  Today's prompt is First Place.  This is the 15th outrageously entertaining day of this challenge.  Check out the Linky at WWFC for more winning stories.

I am struggling a bit with today's prompt.  Taking first place, winning contests, competitions, sports, spelling bees are not things I ever did.  While other kids were joining teams and taking lessons, I was playing outside in the yard by myself or with my family.   There aren't any awards for that.

However there were rewards.  I was an only child, and so my parents were my best friends.  Sure, there were some neighborhood kids, but most were boys and somewhat older than me.  This made our family really close.  We played badminton, kickball, grilled out (that's a barbeque for some of you), had picnics and had lots of fun.  These things were worth more than taking first place in any competition.

First place had another meaning.  Mom would occasionally use it when I should have done something differently, or that the outcome would have been different, if I had I listened to her "in the first place".

Now I leave you with a few contenders for my choice of first place.  First, may I present my hubby, who has survived over 25 years of marriage to yours truly.  That is no small feat to be sure.  You see he brings home the bacon and I eat it.

My wonderful hubby

And in the snuggle-bunkins category, we have three fabulous felines.  While they are all friends, what you probably won't see is Sophie and Dood in a snuggle like this.

Rosie and Sophie

Rosie and Dood

To me they are all winners, which makes me the biggest winner of all.

The Ant and the Lion

Written for the 30-day creative writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  Today's prompt is The Short Hairs.  This is the 14th mind-numbing day of this challenge.  Check out the Linky at WWFC for more entertainment.

frank.itlab.us

There are a lot of these in my yard.

Image source:  Wikipedia

Fortunately there are a lot of these too.

Antlions, or rather antlion larva, as I learned from my research.  Otherwise known to me in my childhood as doodlebugs. They are called doodlebugs because the twisty winding trails they leave in the sand while looking for the right place to make their traps look like someone doodled in the sand.

They hang out in inverted cone-shaped dwellings in loose sandy soil, and feed on ants. It is interesting to watch them "build" their traps.

When complete, they lie in wait for the unsuspecting ant to drop in for dinner...not knowing he's the meal, thus having the ant by the short hairs.

Image source:  Wikipedia

This is what they become.  

Does this meet the criteria for today's topic?  If you were the ant, what would you think?

The Other One

Choices, changes

Life rearranges

He chooses

He loses

Should have chosen

The other one

Choices, changes

Life rearranges

Now he knows

And he chose

The other one

Written for the 30-day creative writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  Today's prompt is The Other One.  This is the 13th mind-numbing day of this challenge.  Check out the Linky at WWFC to see what everyone else chose

Also posted for dVerse Poetry.

25 Years in my Kitchen

Written for the 30-day creative writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  Today's prompt is In the Kitchen.  This is the 12th mind-blowing day of this challenge.  Check out the Linky at WWFC to see what everyone else is cooking up.

A lot has happened in my kitchen.  This has been my kitchen for over 25 years, and it is pretty much the same as it was the day we walked in for the first time.  There's a new fridge, that is it was new in 1992, and a new dishwasher about 13 years ago. In our house new is a relative word.

I learned to cook in this kitchen, something my Mom wanted to teach me years before, but I said "I'll learn when I need to"  Foolish me.  I did absorb more than either of us thought, which gave me a good background for learning.  I've learned a lot in my kitchen, like how to handle a knife, and make a sauce that doesn't break.  I've learned about herbs and spices and how to create my own dishes.

The cats are fed in the kitchen so there's always cat food on the floor.  When our cat, Missy, was sick and wouldn't eat, I made cat food smoothies and hand fed her, seated on a chair with a towel pinned around her neck.  She stoically accepted the food - until she had had enough.

Games have been played and friends entertained at the kitchen table.  Wine has been drunk and many conversations had that lasted long after the food was eaten and the plates had been cleared.

There have been messes and spills, broken glasses, and many experiments.  There have been cuts and burns and, yes, a few curses.  There has been laughter and tears over the years in my kitchen, which means there has been a lot of living in my kitchen. 

If your home is your castle, the kitchen is it's heartbeat. 

What's the story in your kitchen?