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Monthly Archives: September 2013

I love you so much it hurts

100_0911

Buttery cinnamon toast. Warm, crusty baguette. Steaming plate of spaghetti. Gooey chocolate cake.
Heaven on the tongue, hell on the rest of the body.
Wheat, our relationship is unhealthy; I bid you farewell.

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I’m posting too late to actually take part in the challenge, but I liked the Trifextra prompt this weekend: This week we are taking you, once again, back to school for a lesson in literary devices.  Remember the apostrophe? About.com defines apostrophe as, “A figure of speech in which some absent or nonexistent person or thing is addressed as if present and capable of understanding.”  That same site provides some excellent examples of apostrophes in classical literature. Check them out and then have a crack at it yourself. Give us your best 33-word example of an apostrophe.

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Posted by on September 15, 2013 in Challenges, Food, Sunday Best

 

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No rest for the weary

kitchen boxesIs all of this really ours?

This is just the stack of boxes for the kitchen. Every room has a similar mountain. I console myself with the fact that everything in those boxes recently fit comfortably in a house with half the square footage of our current house. Theoretically, there should be ample space for everything. I just wonder how many times I’ll have to rearrange it all before there’s a place for everything and everything is in its place.

 
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Posted by on September 14, 2013 in Six Word Saturday, True Life

 

Quick thinking, Marge

the-boat-and-miss-libertyPhoto copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Bill and Marge were amassing vast quantities of iPhotos, gleefully recording every moment of their first real vacation in more than two decades. This morning, as their ship cruised into New York Harbor, they’d lowered the phone long enough to appreciate the rising sun glinting off Lady Liberty’s crown.

Now the pair were backed against the grimy wall of a seedy alley, watching the noonday sun glint off a wildly waving knife blade. “You can have my iPhone,” Marge soothed the desperate crackhead as she surreptitiously snapped his photo, “just let me upload our vacation pics to the Cloud first.”

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The Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, come each week from the four corners of the world to submit a 100-word story inspired by a photo prompt.

friday-fictioneers

 
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Posted by on September 13, 2013 in Challenges, Fiction

 

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Grace I ain’t

photo

Question 199 (The Complete Book of Questions by Garry Poole)
How accident-prone are you? Describe a recent incident.

I go through spells–not sure if it has to do with the phases of the moon or the alignment of the stars or just dumb luck–when I am literally a walking accident. At those times, there’s not enough bubble wrap in the world to protect me from myself.

Take that bruised leg in the photo, for example. I got that bruise at the gas station. And you thought the only danger at the pump was blowing yourself to kingdom come if your cell phone rings! I am proof that even the most mundane tasks can be dangerous. When I hopped out of the car to refuel, my upper body swung the door closed before my lower body got out of the way. Hence, the bottom corner of the door gouged the side of my calf.

It is one of those injuries that hurts like holy hell…but I couldn’t look at it or grab it or hop around cursing lest I had to explain to someone what just happened. I had to calmly circle to the opposite side of the car and insert my debit card into the pump, pretending it was the wind funneling between the fueling islands causing my eyes to water. With every penny that clicked by on the digital display, I had to pretend that I could not feel a hematoma swelling under my skin, threatening to burst free like an alien.

I wish I could say that this was the first time I’d slammed my leg with the car door. Or even the second. But I have run out of fingers on the first hand and have moved on to the second. I’d like to think that I’ve finally learned my lesson, that I shouldn’t be required to completely encase my lower legs in shin guards before getting in the car, but with my tendency to be accident-prone, I suspect the tally will soon require toes.

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2013 in Deep Thought Thursday, On Me, True Life

 

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Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike…What day is it, Mike?

camelGeico Camel retrieved from Google Images

Hump day! Woot! Woot!

Around here this week, it means we’re standing smack in the middle of two deliveries of household effects. The items we left behind in storage when we headed out of the States five years ago were delivered yesterday. By mid-afternoon today, we’d unpacked the majority of it, and it was kinda like Christmas. We had to stop every few minutes to hold up something we’d unwrapped from layers of packing paper and say, “Hey, I remember this!”

On one hand, it’s nice to see some of these things again…many of them family treasures (Grandma’s china, Dad’s toy car) or souvenirs of our respective and collective pasts (the hubby’s tennis medals, my high school yearbooks, our Lions Club awards) that we were either afraid to move because of their fragility or reluctant to take because they would not fit comfortably in a Japanese-sized house.

But on the other hand I have to think, “If we forgot about these things in the five years they were out of sight, how important are they really? Do we truly need them?” Of course, I know the answers. But it’s so hard to take sentimentality out of the equation. We’ll see what happens in the coming days–the math could get significantly easier with the next delivery.

The stuff we actually humped around the world from the States to Japan to England and back again (to which, ahem, we might have added one or two things in our travels) arrives tomorrow, and there’s twice (three times??) as much of that as there was in storage. Sentimentality may finally be trumped by frustration practicality as we try to find a place for everything.

It is very unfortunate timing that the community wide yard sale is planned for this Saturday…if it were being held a week later, I would probably be out there selling off the excess. I wonder if Goodwill makes house calls?

 
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Posted by on September 11, 2013 in How It Is, True Life, What's She On About?

 

What’s the link?

Hmm, what have we here?

Hmm, what have we here?

Let’s play a little game. I’ll name some items, you guess what they all have in common. Ready?  Here goes.

  • safety pin
  • scratch-off lottery ticket
  • lollipop stick
  • sock

Got it yet? No? Okay, I’ll give you a few more.

  • cat feces (?)
  • button
  • dog food
  • candy wrapper

Did those help? Still no? These last few should do it.

  • a collar stay
  • lint
  • two used dryer sheets

Betcha have it all figured out now. These are all things I found when I pulled out the washer this afternoon. And the best part? They were all floating on a lake of petrified fabric softener. Rarely have I been so grossed out.

Exactly how did so much fabric softener get on the floor?

Did a bottle, possibly stored on top of the dryer, tip over when no one was watching and empty its entire contents? (Some rivulets down the adjoining sides of the washer and dryer support this theory.) Didn’t anyone notice that the once-full bottle was suddenly empty? Why wouldn’t that someone pull out the machines and clean up the mess?

Is the fabric softener dispenser (located in the agitator post inside the washer) broken, so that any fabric softener added just runs straight out the bottom of the machine and onto the floor? Didn’t anyone notice that their clothes were static-y and neither soft and fluffy nor outdoor fresh? Wouldn’t that someone investigate why they were spending good money on fabric softener and not seeing any of its advertised results? (Do you think that someone instead sent nastygrams to the fabric softener manufacturer demanding a refund?)

More disturbing…how long has the fabric softener been on the floor? It was completely solidified. This did not happen last month. Has no one cleaned the laundry room floor in five years? We had four different tenant families. And the house was supposedly cleaned by professionals between tenants. So why is it that I am the one who lost a whole hour of her life scooping, scraping, and scrubbing away all evidence of that hideous lake and all its flotsam?

Lord, save me from what may be lurking beneath the fridge.

P.S. The scratch-off lottery ticket (already scratched) was a winner. But there was NO WAY I was handing that revolting little card to the clerk at the local convenience store to claim a dollar. I’d like the staff not to cringe in disgust every time I walk in to pay for gas or buy a soda in the coming years.

 
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Posted by on September 9, 2013 in Monday Mix, Observations, True Life

 

Travel theme: Hidden

 

Ailsa at Where’s my backpack? has issued a new challenge, asking participants to share their photographic interpretations of “hidden.”

 
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Posted by on September 8, 2013 in Challenges, Photography, Sunday Best

 

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