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 |   Blog Challenge And Other Tidbits |
| An opinion or two...or three or four... |
PROMPT May 10th The prompt today is very simple: Tell us a story about the person you call Mom. Gosh, this is a tough day for me. I suspected and pretty much knew that this would be our prompt. And I'm trying my best to approach this with a happy and positive heart. But...it's not happening for me. My mom has been gone just over 15 years now. she was my very best friend and I miss her terribly. Every single day. And for some reason I'm missing her more than ever before. I'm not sure if it's the current pandemic keeping us all home where we have plenty of time to think and ruminate. I'm not sure if it's because my 60th birthday is close and I'm just feeling old. And I'm just not sure if I'm feeling lonely. Whatever it is, I need my mom for some reason. In fact, I would give just about anything in this world to talk to her just one more time. If only...that's something I think about a lot. If only... I was lucky to have her for a mom. She was wise in a lot of ways. She saw the world just a little differently than most people. She loved her family above all else. And she loved each of us fiercely. She was everything that made our family what it was and what it is today. She is the reason I laugh and I cry. She is the reason I see life as I do. My mom had a way of looking at things...like I said, just a little differently. She believed that there was a bar we had to pass before we could go out into the world ourselves. She made sure we accomplished three things to her satisfaction before she gave us her blessing to "leave home and leave your mother behind." Obviously we didn't leave her behind, but we certainly left home. Only to return with our own families. All of us still craving her smile, her advice, and her love. And those three things we had to do? Well, they were simple enough, but oh, so important. We had to: 1. Sing beautifully, or play a musical instrument competently. Music was so important to her. She sang beautifully. And she sang every day. Me? I can't really sing. But I play piano and I play the bells. And I appreciate all kinds of music for what it is and the creativity it brings to the world. 2. Speak a foreign language fluently. Culture was very important to her. And she knew we could learn so much about ourselves and other people just by learning a foreign language. She spoke Spanish. Rather, she learned Castilian Spanish. Very formal and very proper. Me? Well, my heart has always belonged to France. So...I speak French. Yes, fluently. I'm a huge Francophile. 3. Read one dirty book. Odd, huh? But she had her reasons for that. She believed everyone was curious about "all the dirty stuff in life." And if we just got it out of our systems we would be fine and see the beauty in life. She made a show of everything when we completed this task. We'd bring her the book we read and she'd take it and ask us if we ever needed to read stuff like that again. Of course the answer was no. And then she'd beat the book on the counter and hand it back to us. We then took it to the trash. And said goodbye forever. Weird, but for some reason it worked. She never told me her book. But I know mine. It was "Coffee, Tea, or Me". In those days it was considered very risque. By today's standards? Not so much. My mom had a reason for everything. She has so much to teach. So much to give. And so much to love. She was my teacher, my confidante, my best friend. She was the reason I am who I am today. I miss her so much. If only I could talk to her one more time. Hug her one more time. See her smile one more time. If only. |
PROMPT May 9th Choose an event in your life that someone else remembers differently. Describe both memories and debate the differences. Who do you think is right? Why do you think you remember it differently? An event someone remembers differently...hmmm...I have to say this is a hard one for me. I come from a loud boisterous family and each one of us is always in each other's business. We've experienced life together and apart but we all know what everyone is doing and has done at any given moment in the day. And because we're all stubborn and bull-headed we have a tendency to put our own spin on everything. No, we're not liars, we just like to be the hero of the story. Every story. Whether it's ours or not. So for me, it's normal to remember EVERYTHING differently. But putting all that aside I'll have to say that...I can think of one silly instance that's not important at all. And it has to do with cooking. Polish cooking. Sauerkraut in particular. Next to my own mom, my Auntie Jen was probably the best cook on the planet. She had the golden touch when it came to baking or cooking. Everything she made was authentic and delicious. It was my Auntie Jen who taught us how to make sauerkraut. Sure, sure, everyone thinks this is simple, but in fact it's not. There's a certain technique and a certain recipe that produces delicious kraut that's not too tangy and not too sweet and not too dull and not overpowering. It's always perfect. Anyway, one of the "secrets" she shared with us is that the kraut has to be rinsed with water a certain number of times. The magic number is 12. You must rinse the kraut with 12 jars of water. Not 13. Not 11. And certainly not 10. No more, No less. It's 12. So I filed that little tidbit in my brain under the category "Extra Important". One day, just a few years ago, my brother offered to come to my house to cook for me. I was recuperating from back surgery and spending most of my days just trying to get around in my brace and my walker. Anyway, he offered to make sauerkraut and pork chops. That was music to my ears. I could really use some good Polish cooking. And kraut is one of my favorites. So he brought everything and proceeded to take over my kitchen. I sat at the bistro table looking on and just chatting. We were having some great conversation. Felt like old times at home when we'd cook together and talk about family. THEN I noticed him rinsing the kraut. I counted the jars in my head. One...two...six...And that was it. I furrowed my brows and politely reminded him it was twelve jars, not six. He turned with his hands on his hips and told me it was six, not twelve. I also put my hands on my hips and shot back it was twelve, not six. We went on like this for about 15 or 20 minutes. Each of us insisted we heard it right. He shouted six. I shouted 12. And of course we couldn't call Auntie Jen; she'd been gone from this earth and in heaven for a lot of years. Back and forth we went. Neither of us backing down. But then I realized he was doing me a HUGE favor and I wasn't being very grateful about the whole thing. You see, that's what happens when you're a Gemini - you're just always right...so you think. Back to the kraut. I decided that for once I would just shut my mouth and enjoy the food someone was nice enough to cook for me. So I let my brother cook. He's an excellent cook. Better than me. And of course the kraut was delicious. Tender, juicy, slightly tangy, slightly sweet and perfect. I told my brother it was perfect. He was smart enough not to tell me, "I told you so." To this day he rinses the kraut with 6 jars of water. I still rinse it with 12. And that's because I know it's twelve, not six. |
PROMPT May 8th Take a look at this list of values: https://liveboldandbloom.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/400-personal-values-list... Pick your top ten values and rank them based on how important they are to you. Then, write about the values you chose and if any have changed throughout your life. One of my best qualities is that I'm a team player. I have always chosen to work for the good of the group. I work to support the group. I work to ensure everyone in the group is successful and happy. And if, in my opinion, an incorrect or wrong decision has been made, then I'll work to dissuade the group from that decision. But if the concensus is to move forward with such a decision then I'm on board with that. I'm in no way a pansy or a push-over. I choose to lead in what's called "above the line." And I mention all this because where the 30-Day Blogging Challenge is concerned I look at the blogging community here as "my group." And I do my best to support and motivate. And when presented a prompt I do my best to follow that prompt because every other blogger in the group is doing the same. And I want my group to be happy. So when I looked at this prompt late last night I immediately thought, "Are you kidding me? 400 words to scan? And then discern my top 10?" Yep, that's what I thought. My next thought was, "Nope. That would take me all day. And it defeats the purpose of a blog post." Sad to say, but I felt a little defeated. But I'm a team player and I resolved that I would approach the list with a fresh perspective in the morning. And...here I am. I scanned the list again. I realized something didn't feel right. So I decided to challenge the list by definition. Here's what I found: VALUE: By definition a VALUE: is that QUALITY of anything that renders it desirable or useful. And... QUALITY: By definition QUALITY is a CHARACTERISTIC or FEATURE someone or something has. I took that information and returned to the list. I noticed that most of the words on the list are actually qualities and not values. And to be honest I'm glad about that. Mostly because I STILL don't want to scan down a list of 400 words and choose 10. I thought I might ask Collin his take on the whole thing. I thought I would find him perusing the list and drawing out what his values really are. But no such luck. For Collin really doesn't have any values. In all his 400 years he's never once stopped to consider what is truly important to him. Of course all his tricks and traps are important. After all, that's how he makes a living. But honestly, how can you value deceit? I told Collin to just keep it to himself. He was fine with that. So at this juncture I will have to politely and respectfully pass. I have many values and I display many qualities. I do my best to keep them all positive. And no, I'm not perfect. There are times when the ugly side of me shows. But at the end of the day I make no apologies for that. I am simply who I am. And I'm not sorry for that. |
PROMPT May 7th Start your entry today with the words: “I used to believe...” I used to believe that any recipe, either published or hand-written, was simply a roadmap to a tasty treat or a successful meal. Organized and methodical, they were written with absolute truth, honesty, and the promise of outstanding results. I used to believe a recipe could make me look like a superhero when I presented such a delight. Yep, I used to believe that... Take for instance, the matter of...THE EASTER CAKE... One afternoon as I was perusing a cooking magazine and I found a recipe for a delightful Easter cake. It was shaped like a flower pot and on top there was an arrangement of beautiful flowers. Pansies, nasturtiums, lilacs and mums. All edible and all beautiful. The colors were really spectacular and screamed of spring and Easter and lovely weather. Underneath the flowers there was even some dirt to make it look real. And it was wrapped in a wonderful yellow bow. It simply took my breath away. As I sat and stared at the cake my mind started to think. What a great cake! Something like that would be wonderful for my own Easter table! The recipe seems simple enough. How hard could it be? It was that last thought that got me in trouble. How hard could it be? Right, famous last words. Over the next day or two, I kept thinking about that cake. It was a beautiful cake. And I knew pretty quick that I MUST MAKE THAT CAKE! After all, how hard could it be? So I set out to make the cake. I did what every good baker does. I checked the recipe. I checked my ingredients. I checked for the freshness of the ingredients. I checked my utensils. I checked my pans. I checked the stove. And I checked the time. Ha! Just enough time to get to the store and start on the cake. The recipe promised it would take only four hours to make and because it was only 8:00 a.m. I could have an Easter Masterpiece by early afternoon. Oh heck, 2:00 at the latest. The plan was perfect! Off to Safeway I went. I gathered stuff like vanilla and eggs and pre-sifted cake flour. I grabbed chocolate and sugar and and food dye. I ran to the produce department to pick out my flowers. I ran to the check-out with my armful of goodies and a smile on my face. I opened my wallet and waited for the total...and was suddenly shocked by what the cashier said. "It comes to $68.29." For a cake? My smile suddenly faded. But I handed over the money just the same. When I got to the car I checked my list. I still needed pans and fondant and a couple more flowers. So off to Hobby Lobby I went. I gathered the pans. I found the fondant. No flowers in sight, but that was okay. I could always find more later on. I got to the check-out with my wallet in hand. I nearly fainted when the cashier, bless her little heart, told me the total was $50.13." I must have been staring because she asked me if something was wrong. Something was wrong all right. I just found myself committed to a most expensive cake. $100 all in. Seriously? But it wasn't the sweet little cashier's fault. So I handed over the money and took my bag to the car. I wasn't so happy then but I was committed and I felt it would be sinful to let everything go to waste. I convinced myself that even though expensive I would have a lovely masterpiece at the end. I pictured myself beaming with pride as I presented my cake. I donned my best apron and readied the kitchen. Oven on. Counters cleared. Ingredients gathered. Recipe out. Time checked. 10:00 a.m. Piece of cake I thought to myself. And yes, I was pleased with my little pun. I jumped right in with pleasure and bliss. First the pans. Greased and floured. Then the cake batter. Wet ingredients added one at a time with love and care into my trusty Kitchenaid. Then the dry ingredients. Sifting required first. Oh what a bother but this was a masterpiece I was making so I begrudgingly got out a sifter. And... Poof! Flour everywhere! On the counter. On the floor. In my hair. All over the dog. It was just everywhere! But not to worry. This was a masterpiece I was making. So I cleaned up the mess and tried one more time. And... Success! So I spooned it into the Kitchenaid a little at a time. And... Poof! Another dusty mess. The paddle of the Kitchenaid was whirling too fast. But I was making a masterpiece so I had to keep going. Finally the pans were into the oven. And finally the pans were out on the counter to cool. And finally the cakes were ready to decorate. Finally the fun part was about to begin. I was so excited. It was time to make the pot. I had to stack three layers of cake with frosting between each chocolatey layer. Milk chocolate frosting I whipped up by hand. Then I had to carve the cake to resemble a flower pot. Once again the thought ran through my head. How hard could it be? Well...after shaving and shaving and carving and carving I ended with a lop-sided mass that didn't resemble a pot at all. But not to worry. I was making a masterpiece. So I dubbed my pot perfect and called it an ode to life's imperfections. It would just have to do. And next was the fondant. I knew fondant existed. But I'd never used it before. I never tasted it before. I had no idea what to expect. But not to worry. I was making a masterpiece. So I tackled the fondant. Just like the recipe said. And... It was a lumpy tasteless mess that nearly made me cry. It looked like a rag I retrieved from the trash. But I held back the tears. Because I was making a masterpiece. And I had to keep going. Somehow I managed to cover my cake. Lumpy and lop-sided and not attractive at all. But I decided that once I added the flowers the cake would be perfect. So I began the final step. And...the edible flowers I purchased had wilted and faded. They weren't usable at all. But not to worry. I was making a masterpiece. So I went to my garden to pick flowers of my own. I picked roses and lilies and anything else I could find. They would just have to do. I went back to my cake and arranged all my blossoms on top with the most love and care I could muster. And...finally my cake was done. I stood back to observe the masterpiece I'd made. It leaned to one side and was lumpy in spots. The flowers were wilting and the fondant was ragged. It was the ugliest edible thing I'd ever made. It was so horrible I couldn't even cry. The tears I tried to shed only made me laugh. And before I knew it everyone in the house was laughing along with me. It wasn't a masterpiece after all. And absolutely no one wanted to eat that cake. And I learned a lesson. Not every recipe is trust-worthy on time and skill. For this recipe cost me just over $100 and 10 hours of my time. A "simple 4-hour" cake nearly destroyed me. But it's something I'll always remember and something I'll always treasure. Because...I was making a masterpiece. |
PROMPT May 6th Write about an object you own that has negligible monetary value, but is priceless to you. Collin crouched on his knees, toes stuck up in the air, head and arms buried in a closet that quite frankly, Collin forgot. He'd been kicking some things about the other day, pushing some rubbish around, and there, before him was the door. Collin stopped dead and stared at the door. Slowliy one corner of his mouth turned up to the right. Then the other corner turned up to the left. And before he knew it, Collin was sporting a genuine, bonafide smile on his grimy little face. And suddenly his enormous black eyes were sparkling with glee. Well, if enourmous black eyes could actually sparkle then that's what Collin's eyes did. Tossing more rubbish aside he flung open the door and hurled himself into the contents. So that's where Collin was. Crouched on his knees, head buried in the closet, arms flailing about as he raked through the contents of the forgotten closet. For Collin it was a true joy. He squealed happily as he grabbed one item after another and studied it. He tossed each item back and forth in his nasty little hands, turning each item over and over, then tossing it aside for another. It was like Collin had found a treasure chest. An actual treasure chest! Full of the most wonderful things! Well, things only Collin found wonderful. For most of the world the collection of trinkets and baubles and other odd junk was simply...junk. So it made sense the junky little knicknacks found their way into the depths of Collin's trove of treasures. As Collin plowed through the closet a tiny tingly thought entered his mind. Not that Collin had many tingly thoughts, but this one made him sit up in surprise. His face dropped and he stared at the ceiling as the thought became bigger and no longer tingled. He thought about the thought. Because that's what Collin did. He never just thought. When he found himself with a thought he always thought about the thought. Because Collin never knew when a thought about thought would become a good idea. One he could put to good use. One that would bring him profit. One that would make him squeal with delight. But the thought Collin thought was no big idea. No profit involved. Instead it was something that went straight to his heart. Something he'd forgotten about. He turned and looked at the pile he'd made. It really must be there. It was so long ago, but it must still be there. At least Collin hoped it was there. So Collin jumped into the pile and raked through once again. It had to be there. He was sure it was there. And the the thing Collin sought? That had to be there? Well it was something that was crooked and bent. It was tarnished and ugly. But to Collin it was priceless. Well, it was priceless right now. After all, it had been thrown in the closet and forgotten until Collin thought his last thought. Collin was frantic so he dug even faster. His arms flailed about as he tossed one thing after another. And then just as despair was about to take hold, there in the corner hidden in the dark was the thing that he sought. It was simply a key. Broken and bent. Tarnished and ugly. Not worth a dime but to Collin it meant everything. Because you see, it was the key to his heart. Given to him by his one true love. Well, knowing Collin, he may have stolen the key. But stolen or not the key once belonged to his dearest Colleen. Sadly, like so many things in the 400 years of Collin's meager life, Colleen's heart beat for another. She wasn't his. And never would be. And that's why Collin took the key. It was useless to everyone else. But not to Collin for it was truly the key to his heart. |
PROMPT May 5th Find a local news story that makes you feel something. Share the story along with your opinion on it in your blog. It's finally here! Cinco de Mayo! And I'm REALLY FEELING it today. Tacos, burritos, chips, salsa, guacamole, margaritas, mojitos and beer. How can you resist? And as you already know I'm all about the margaritas. I'm looking forward to a cool cocktail later today to toast the Mexican heritage we celebrate in California. But honestly, I am wrong for doing that. In California the day has become about the food and the opportunity to party in the afternoon with lots of beer and cocktails. In fact, us Californians have turned into one big party. The true meaning of the day has been lost. Thanks to commercialism an important piece of history has been forgotten. It's not about Mexican independence. It's not about Mexican cuisine. It's not about the food and the dancing and the music. It is, in fact, all about the battle of Puebla that took place in 1862. It's believed this victorious over the French helped the U.S. Union forces in its efforts to win the American Civil War. Here's an article that rightly explains what we should be celebrating. And rightly shows what we should not. https://www.tripsavvy.com/cinco-de-mayo-celebrated-in-us-1588747 But at the end of the day I still love a good margarita. And I'm willing to toast the victory at Puebla with a frozen classic cocktail. Here's to the 5th. The 5th of May, that is. Happy Cinco de Mayo. |
PROMPT May 4th Describe your cooking or baking ability. What was the last thing you cooked/baked that you were proud of? Are you a recipe-follower or freestyler? "And what can you cook?" That's a question my mom asked. A lot. She felt that all of us should know how to cook. Not just to put a meal on the table, but also for authority, confidence, and satisfaction. Wise woman, my mom was. She asked each of us in turn at certain times in our lives - usually marriage. It was always the same question. And if she didn't like what we said she would set a date to drag us into the kitchen for some serious education. "Now don't argue with me. This is important." She always said that too. Apparently some of us didn't want to learn to cook. When my brother, Jim, returned from Viet Nam, he decided to leave the family nest and rent his own apartment. When he made this announcement my mom said, "And what can you cook?" Jim thought for a moment and said, "Soup. I can cook soup. With noodles and potatoes. I can also make sausage." He looked to my mom for approval. She squinted her eyes and peered at him. She seemed to be tossing something around in her mind. But finally she said, "Good. If you can make soup then you'll be fine." And off my brother went to make his own life. She did this same thing to all of us. Not long before my sister's wedding mom pulled her aside. "And what can you cook?" she said as she peered into my sister's face. "Well, I can cook soup. Chicken soup. With noodles. And potatoes on the side. I can fry chicken and I can make macaroni salad." My sister, Judy, looked expectantly at our mom. "Fine," she said. "You won't starve and neither will your husband. Or your children." And off my sister went to to make her own life. Next was my brother, Marty. His fiance, Sharon, came to dinner one night. "And what can you cook?" mom asked politely. "Well," Sharon said, "I can cook spaghetti." We all waited for more. But none was coming. Sharon could only cook spaghetti. Mom took a deep breath and then pronounced, "This Saturday you'll come to my kitchen. I'll teach you to make soup. And Marty, you'll come too. This is important. You need to know this." And so the two went. They learned to make soup. And then Marty left to make a life of his own. Mike? Well, Mike could really cook. He worked in the kitchen at college. He worked in Europe at a resort. He was a good student and learned well. Mike was the only one of us that could almost, and I say almost, cook as well as our mom. But she asked anyway. "And what can you cook?" Mike said, "Well, I can cook soup. Chicken with noodles and potatoes on the side. I can cook stew. I can fry chicken. I can cook a steak in a pan and baste it with butter. I can make orzo and rice, and I can bake bread. I can make omelettes and crepes and trifles and cakes. I can make pie crust. I can make sausage. I can make..." "Enough!" my mom said. "You will be fine. Now teach your bride how to cook." My brother John was next. "And what can you cook?" John was quick to answer. "I can cook soup. Beef AND chicken. With noodles. And potatoes on the side. I can make sausage. I can cook bear. And rabbit. And venison. And I can fry potatoes with onion and garlic and a little hot sauce." Mom was somewhat impressed. She had no idea how to cook bear or rabbit or venison. And then she said, "Okay, that's good. How about your wife? What does she cook?" John looked a little embarrassed. "Well...," he stammered, "I'm not exactly sure." "What?" mom asked, surprised. "Bring her here on Saturday. I"ll teach her to make soup. Now don't argue with me. This is important." And just like that, John's new wife came to learn how to make soup. Apparently mom didn't trust John as much as Mike. And me? Well, that's simple. I waited for my question. "And what can you cook?" Ah, I knew right away what to say. "Well, I can cook soup. Chicken soup with noodles. And potatoes on the side. I can cook stew and I can make cabbage rolls. I can make cookies and cake. I hate pie, so please don't ask me to make pie. Oh! I can make pot roast and potato salad and macaroni salad. I can grill corn and I can grill burgers. And by the way, I can also make hamburger with noodles. And eggs. I can cook eggs." Mom smiled at me. But she had one last question. "Did I teach you enough?" I nearly cried. Of course she taught me enough! She poured her heart and soul into her kitchen because she loved her family so much. She gave us her advice and expertise and her love. She taught us to love through food. And one day I realized something. Each of us can make soup. And we make damn good soup. And I knew it was her medicine, because she always said, "Soup cures everything. A cold, the flu, broken bones and a broken heart. Soup cures everything." Yes, it does. Soup cures everything. And I make damn good soup. |
PROMPT May 3rd What do you do you relax and unwind in the evening? Paint us a picture of your ideal relaxation  Collin eyed the crack in his only dinner plate. It seemed to be getting longer. And maybe even deeper. He ran a sharp yellow fingernail along the crack testing if the plate would give way. It didn't. So Collin decided the plate would last another day. Good thing, too, since he had no plans of thieving another any time soon. Well...he was, in fact, planning to snoop around the house at the end of the street set back in the woods where the leaves covered the dark, dark earth in a perpetual blanket of autumn. Maybe he could snatch one from there. He'd have to tiptoe very quietly but he was up for the challenge. He was plotting his course when the clock on the mantel chimed 6:59. Not 7:00. Definitely 6:59. Aha! It was finally time! Time for Collin to throw off his shoes, not that they very good shoes, and spread out his toes, not that they were pretty at all, and fall back on his couch, stolen of course, and enjoy his favorite thing on the planet. He snatched up a ragged TV remote. Most of the buttons were gone but that was okay because the two that remained clicked him over to the only two shows he watched. The only two that mattered. The only two he actually understood. He readied himself for the first half-hour of joy, adjusting a grimy pillow behind his greasy little head. He tapped his head with a nasty long finger and wondered what tonight's categories would be. And then... "THISSSSSSS...ISSSSS...JEOPARDY!" Collin squealed with joy. He jumped up and down as he tried to beat each contestant with an answer. Most of the time he was right. It was amazing how much he knew. And when he was wrong he jeered and booed and shook a fist at the screen. He even kept score. There was no telling how much money he could win if he actually qualified for the show. And when it was over Collin collapsed on the couch to catch his breath and wait for the next exciting show. "WHEEL...OFFFFF...FORTUNE!" Collin jumped from the couch and practically placed his snotty little nose on the screen. The wheel! The puzzles! The prizes! It was almost too much. Oh, but Collin wanted so badly to solve the prize puzzle and win a trip to anywhere out of the damp little cottage in the darkest part of the forest. That was really his dream. A trip out of nowhere to anywhere but here. He drooled on the screen as he thought of the trip. And when it was time for the Bonus Round Collin hugged his poor little TV set like it was a long lost friend. Not that Collin had any friends. But he cheered all the same. And when it was all over Collin gathered the remote and with the push of one button clicked off the TV. He stared at the dark screen for a moment or two. But he knew that tomorrow he'd be back for another hour of fun...the "Power Hour" he'd dubbed it. His ticket to unwind. |
PROMPT May 2nd What one fictional character would most like to meet and talk to? Why? What would you like to ask? A delta breeze that was more like a wind blew through my back yard, through my windows and into my house. Chilly as it was, I was enjoying the cool temperatures and the smells floating on the breeze. Orange blossom, lemon blossom, Mr. Lincoln roses. All of them heady and beautiful. I inhaled deeply as I took my mug of hot, steamy coffee to the patio table outside. Alas, the wind was a little too cold so I went back inside and settled on the couch. I closed my eyes and inhaled again. Nothing more comforting on a cool morning than a hot mug of coffee with milk. I was ready to enjoy the first sip when I heard a small, but persistent tapping. Tapping? I opened my eyes and looked around. Nothing. But...there it was again. Tap, tap, tap. And then TAP TAP TAP. And finally TAP TAP TAP! How annoying I thought and I sought the strange little tapping. I decided to open the front door and there, standing on the welcome mat, was someone I knew. Well, I thought I knew. Actually I didn't know at all but was dying to meet. He stood on my welcome mat with both hands on his skinny little hips. His grimy little t-shirt hung loosely from his shoulders. And his nasty little toes were sticking out from the tops of his sandals. And his hair? Well, he could certainly use a trip to the barber for a shampoo and a shave. Disgusting little creature. But I was intrigued. "Collin," I said in my brightest voice with my happiest smile pinned to my face. He harumphed. "What are you doing here?" I queried cautiously. "Doncha know?" he snorted. "I thought yer brain was bigger than that." I thought about kicking him, but because I was intrigued I decided to ignore his nasty little quip. He didn't wait for my reply. "Where's me coffee and where's me chair? I've got the answers ye seek." Confused but willing to play along I invited the rude little thing into my house and onto my couch. I offered a mug of the best coffee my Keurig could brew. I even offered milk but Collin only scoffed. "Coffee's made for cream. It's nothing without. And while we're at it, where's me sugar?" Holy smoke. This guy was really getting rude. But once again I offered a dish filled with sweet little cubes. He plunked four into his mug. Four? Well, maybe it would sweeten him up. "So ye've got some questions for me...hmmm?" "Collin, whatever do you mean?" "Oh, don't fuss with me," he sneered. "Just ask what ye want." He looked at his wrist. An ancient old Timex with a cracked face and rusted band hung from his wrist. "I've got only so much time. And yer wasting me time." Startled by the watch, since I hadn't noticed it before, I tried desperately to collect my thoughts. And then it hit me. The blog prompt! It was so simple! The prompt asked me what fictional character I'd like to meet! Of course! Collin had been invading my blog pages beginning in March. Once or even twice a week he's been showing up on my page. Talk about intrigue. So I took a deep breath. "Collin," I said politely. "You've been showing up in my blog. Why is that?" He took a glug from his mug and winked. Yes, he winked one of his enormous black eyes. And then he said, "Missy, that's one for me to know. It's your secret to solve." Okay, not much help there. So I posed another question. "Collin, you've got some crazy stories. They're all over the place. One time you're in love. One time you're looking for adventure. One time you're saving for retirement. One time you even rescue a bee. What story do you want me to tell?" Another glug and another wink. "Missy, I already told ye - it's my secret to know and your secret to solve." I could see this wasn't going anywhere. So I tried one last time. "Collin, why me?" One more glug and one last wink. He pointed a long bony finger at me. "I'm not at all sure. Except that the story's in yer head. And ye've got to get it out." His nasty little finger tapped the near empty mug. "And that's all miss! That's all I say! Ye've got to get it out." I just looked at him. He looked at me. And in a whoosh he was out the door, his maniacal cackle fading down the street. I was left with my thoughts. And here's what I thought: Collin has a story to tell. And he picked me to tell it. I'm not yet sure what it is. I don't think Collin really knows what it is either. But yes, there's a story to tell. And I've got to get it out. So here's to Collin and whatever story he brings to my blog. |
PROMPT May 1st Tell us something uplifting! We need good news now more than ever. What is something positive that happened or is about to happen in your life? What has made you smile recently? Hello everyone and welcome to May! Here we are again for an inspiring and motivating blogging challenge. I'm anxious to see what everyone blogs. I FINALLY got a good night's sleep last night so I woke up happy and refreshed and ready to meet the day. I threw open the windows and the sliding glass door. Fed both the pets and poured myself an extra-large mug of coffee with milk, a real treat for me. I sipped my coffee on the back patio and inspected all the flowers we have blooming. The clock struck eight and I knew it was time to work. I checked the weather and I checked the calendar. It was time to turn the page and a smile spread across my face. A laugh crept up from inside. A little shiver of glee ran from my fingers to my toes. The calendar said May 1st. May 1st! And that can only mean one thing...well two things... The first is that it's the start of a new official blogging challenge. New friends. New blog posts. New laughs. And even some new tears. But it's blogging time in the official sense. And the second...well...it's only four days until May 5th! Cinco de Mayo! Here in California that means tacos and chips and salsa and burritos and beans and guacamole and rice and tamales and a whole lot of cerveza. And more importantly...margaritas! Finally it's time to celebrate and sip those tasty frozen drinks. Ahem! They're not always frozen. But frozen or not it's time for one of my favorite cocktails. And in the spirit of getting ready to celebrate all things "Cinco de Mayo" I dug up my favorite recipe (yes, I'm a nerd and need a recipe to mix a cocktail) and hung it on the fridge. Then I thought of all of you awesome bloggers and decided we should all celebrate! Even though we now live in a world of social distancing I don't see any reason why we can't celebrate. So here's my challenge - Use my recipe below or one of your own and then tell us how it all turned out. And if you have a picture that would be awesome too. So here you go: Best Margaritas on the Planet 2 oz silver tequilla (yes, silver. not amber) 1 oz cointreau 1 oz lime juice Coarse Salt Chill a glass and then run the rim in lime juice. Then coat the rim in coarse salt. Add tequilla, cointreau, lime juice and ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake the heck out of that shaker. Dance around a bit. Put your hips into it. Have fun. Strain your lovely elixir into your chilled glass and savor every single drop Gosh, I can hardly wait. I may have to shake one up right now! |
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