I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon.
Happy 10th WDC Anniversary, SandraLynn Team Florent!! I'm sorry I can't battle alongside with you, dear Florent. Go forth and go well! You are doing excellent!
WWAD-what would Andre do! Maybe he could get a 3D-printer, make bracelets with WWAD on them and sell them on the side.
We get our dogs braided rope toys to chew on and use dental sticks to help clean their teeth. Perhaps Andre would enjoy a nice braided chew rope, and if someone would make a banana flavored dental stick, he could use it for a swizzle stick in his drink and chew on after he downs it.
My grandgiggles now ask if I'm wearing bubble wrap when I venture forth for a meander/walk/stroll. I thought a clumsy monkey could be conceivable and that he'd be told the same thing I am. Be careful. What is that? Accidents happen, to me any way.
QueenNormaJeanGreeneggs&vegham You win! I've never been shot at, well, not directly. I once experienced the back window of my car being shot out as I drove along a highway. I believe it was a hunter's errant bullet. I wrote about us accident prone people. I refer to it as O.U.C.H. I believe I intended that to mean Our Unique Clumsiness Hurts. We create our own writing material.
Oh come on - I've had so many weird accidents - last one I swear I tripped on a feather. Broke 2 bones in my hand, cast for 4 weeks and now I'm going to see the doctor tomorrow. Cannot move the blasted hand at all.
Car accidents, been shot at, blew my knee getting into a truck. falling down drunk and waking up looking like a prize fighter when I had to go to a family funeral. I've had a few good ones.
I'm the accident-prone one around these parts - although most people would guess my most-used word falls into the "swear" category, it's actually "ouch."
Years back I dated a lady who was extremely accident prone. On one occasion she caught her dress pocket on a door handle as we exited the theater. She ripped her dress open, buttons popping off all over. Another time I stopped to pick her up for a dinner date. As we were exiting her apartment, she remembered her purse and rushed back in to grab it. She slipped on the floor and slid into the table, chipping her front tooth. On yet another outing while viewing some antique mining equipment, she climbed up on a big dump truck for a picture. She decided to jump down, but had caught her shirt on something and ripped it off!
September 15th Prompt: What was the most memorable meal you've prepared? Tell us who you prepared it for and the occasion. Picture doe-eyed children fainting with hunger and rocking in their chairs encircling a dining table. Their trembling hands clutch grumbling bellies. Their piteous cries pierce the air. I pull open the door and step out onto the deck. As I tug the lid of the propane barbecue smoke billows out and stings my eyes. I gasp. I cough. I wave away the dark cloud obscuring my vision. Red flames flare and flicker. I hear sizzling.With a sigh I pierce the family's meal with a long-handled fork and wrestle each morsel onto the tray I am balancing. I permit the barbecue lid to slam shut. My free hand wrangles the door open and an elbow bends to catch it as it swings. Three hoarse voices exclaim, "It's about time. We're starving!" The tray clatters to the table and four sets of eyes stare. When no one attempts to spear the meat as I anticipated I go ahead and load four waiting plates. No one, none of the hungry, begin to stuff their impatient faces. While I wait, four forks hesitate and hover over my offerings. The children look to their father. He clears his throat and states the obvious. "This chicken seems to be burned." Before I can think, I snap, "Scrape the black bits off!" Peering at the silent offspring I begin laughing. My own poking revealed the chicken to be beyond seared. I had cremated our supper. Even the soot-encased bones crumbled. "Hey, this is sorta like blackened fish a Creole specialty," I snort. Okay, I confess barbecuing is often beyond my skill set. This is but one example of my prowess and the reason why my hubby would announce to his co-workers, "Well, I gotta go home now. The wife has fired up the barbecue. I can smell the smoke from here."
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.47 seconds at 8:12am on Apr 20, 2024 via server web1.
Log in to Leave Feedback
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
