Seeing Things – Friday Fictioneers

Good Thursday evening my peeps!  Just got back from a little four-day get-away in Woodstock so… needless to say, I’ve got it on my mind 😉  I know, I know, I had it on my mind before leaving as my previous story suggested!  And yes, there will an official “My Visit to Woodstock” in the very near future, once I’ve organised my pictures.

I could not very well diss this week’s FF as it is my picture that our lovely leader chose.  Thank you Rochelle.  Come play with us.  Just click on the blue frog below and add your 100-word story based on this picture…

Get your Code here

Seeing Things

She had spent a restless night, tossing and turning.  Woodstock songs played in a loop in her head, driving her nuts – to be expected, she had watched so many videos about the event.

Finally giving up, she got up and opened the curtain.  Gazing out at the weak morning sun peaking through the haze, she noticed what looked like the body of a naked female, shining on the house next door.

Whipping around, she was half-certain she would see one of the flower children standing there.

Laughing at herself she thought “And yet, I didn’t take the not-quite-good brown acid…”

Weekend Writing Prompt #63 – Crumble

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.  Thank you Sammi!

Word Prompt

Crumble

Challenge

Life has challenged me
Maybe more than others
I would not know
I have not crumbled
And stand up tall
Square my shoulders
And move forward
I found love once and can again
I am enthusiastic
For what lies ahead
Life must be embraced
No matter how scary
I’d still rather go out there
And take a chance
Than look back and think
Why didn’t I?
How could I know if I don’t go?
So, to Woodstock I drive
And see what the Universe has planned for me

New Palette – What Pegman Saw

Good Saturday evening, folks.  Hope yours is a beautiful as mine is.  It’s the type of night where you should walk hand in hand with a loved one, chatting about everything and nothing, enjoying the warm and muggy night – at least until the skeeters come out and ruin everything!  I was gonna go the library route till I found this spectacular photo.  It had to be used…  Thank you Karen and Josh for hosting!

This week Pegman takes us to Baltimore, Maryland. Feel free to visit the library at the Peabody Institute of Johns Hopkins University (above), or cruise around Baltimore and find your own street view or photo sphere for inspiration.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Once your piece is polished, share it with fellow contributors using the link up below. If you don’t have a blog but still want to share your work, feel free to post it in the comments below.

New Palette

She should have gone home hours ago.  It wasn’t like she was being productive, anyway.  Her friends had invited her to go out with them, insisting they had missed her, but in reality, only hungry for details. Details she wasn’t ready to share just yet, if ever.  She was still vibrating with the feelings he had aroused in her, warming her flesh and causing it to shiver at the same time. No, these were hers to savour.  Her friends would have to wait.

Her gaze was drawn to the city and bay below, marvelling at how the daylight was being swallowed by the cobalt of night, the amber glow of the city centre lights spreading like lava over the streets. The water, a shade of azure only seen at night, was decorated with the multi-coloured reflections illuminating the docks.

Baltimore had never looked so beautiful.  Love did colour one’s perception.

 

Sing Like a Caged Bird – Friday Fictioneers

Worked an 11-hour shi(f)t and am a tad wired. It’s 1:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep. This story swam in my head on my way home. After some deliberation, this is what I came up with. 🙂

Thank you, always, to Rochelle for being the ultimate cat-herder with this unruly group! This week, she chose Liz Young‘s photo. Last time I checked, it was July and not October which makes this choice all the more fun and challenging. Smooth, Oh Purple One!

Care to join in on the fun? It is, you know… Fun that is. And when people read your stories and comment on yours, as you do theirs, well, the joy is multiplied. So, do not be shy, click on the Blue Frog below and add your link. Easy-peasy!

Copyright ©Liz Young

Get the frog for your blog

Sing Like a Caged Bird

“Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don’t fence me in…”

“Shut up!”

“No? Don’t like that one? How ’bout:

‘She’s in the jailhouse now…
Ah-di-o-dalee-eehee-dee-o-ti!'”

For Chrissakes… you are so not worth this agony. Stop!”

“What? You kidnap me, lock me up, hope to get who knows how much moolah from my folks and you want me to keep quiet? Screw you! I’m useless to you dead.

“I’m stuck in Folsom Prison
And time keeps draggin’ on….”

“Fine, Little Birdy, sing. You ain’t getting out ‘til your folks pay up.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Weekend Writing Prompt #62 – Zephyr

Good Sunday my readers.  I hope you are enjoying beauty in your surroundings.  I am attempting something I’ve never done (and had never heard of, until recently).  It’s all  your fault, Merril.  The following is my attempt at a cleave poem.  For those of you, who, like me, had (have) no clue what the heck that is… it’s a poem that can be read three ways:  just the column on the left (in black), the column on the right (in blue) or the whole thing together.

I don’t know what I was thinking except to push myself into a scary, unknown territory.  Me, who’s not even a poet!

Thank you Sammi Cox for hosting this challenge.  You have unwittingly given me a push!

Whisper thin, veil-like, her dress of zephyr

Gently billowing around her, caressing her body

Dancing and swaying with the long grasses, tickling her legs

Meandering, no final destination, she smiles at life’s joys

Arms wide, receiving this blessing, sun beaming down

Taking it all in and absorbing the good, feeling warm and loved

Cloud comes, obscures the sun, suddenly cool, blot of darkness

What is this?  She frowns, looks up

Surreptitiously, the zephyr appears, cloud is gently blown away

One needs some darkness, to better appreciate the light

And to allow the wind to blow, capturing and releasing, loving and losing

 

Choosing the Simple Life – What Pegman Saw

Good Sunny Saturday my peeps!  I hope it is sunny and not sweltering where you are… We finally had a break in the humidity and are enjoying sunshine without melting into a puddle.  I didn’t partake last week but, since I have a Saturday off and no plans whatsoever, I thought, why not?  Thank you, as always, to Karen and Josh for hosting this weekly party.

 

This week Pegman is back in Europe in the Faroe Islands in the Kingdom of Denmark. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. You can use the location supplied in the prompt, or you can browse for your own view of the Faroe Islands using Google Maps. You’ll find both street view and photo spheres at the location.

Once your piece is polished you can share it with others at the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun.

Choosing the Simple Life

Life was simple and real in Gasadalur. After years of living the supposed high life in Copenhagen as a real estate agent, Freja finally gave it all up. She never thought, when she got the listing for the property on the Faroe Islands, that she would find the ideal buyer in herself.

Her family tried to stop her, telling her it was no place for a woman to live alone. It was too rugged, wild, and isolated. How would she live? Her assurances were met with protestations.

Once she introduced them to Enok, they felt a small measure of relief. His name did mean dedicated and faithful, after all. He invited them into his home, fed them and assured them that Freja would never be unsafe with him around.

After they left, she thanked Enok for his help and went home.

He watched her walk away… I’ll woo her yet…

 

 

Search For the Perfect Q-Ban – This Ain’t Easy – Take Two

This past week – and I mean FULL week of seven days, we have had weather to rival any Caribbean country – say, like… Cuba!  I’m talking a most disgusting average of 35°C (95°F) with that humidex factor making it feel like 45°C (115°F).  What’s a girl to do?  Continue on her search for that perfect Montreal version of the Cubano sandwich, of course.  Her partner in crime, Julie, ever the willing participant, agreed to meet me today, Friday, on my day off.  So what was today’s temp? 22°C (72°F) and it felt downright chilly!  Now for us Quebecers, who start wearing shorts when it hits 15-16°C (60°F), – sooner for some locos – this may seem silly.  But it has been hotter and muggier than the inside of Hades mouth so, this cool-down was quite the shocker.  And me, wearing a sundress…

Now I know Linds B. and Marc, over at Sorryless are done with the whole Cubano Sammy thing but they did encourage me to keep on it.  They apparently like when other peeps crash their party…

Right.

On my way to destination number two, I was struck by the sheer amount of garbage everywhere.  You see, here in Quebec, the official moving day is July 1st.  That means peeps are moving from one apartment to another and leaving shitloads of stuff behind.  I’m thinking garbage day in the area I was driving through still had not come…

Destination number two was suggested to me by a friend whose boyfriend just so happens to be Cuban.  He says other Cubans go there:  Café Cubano, still on the outskirts of Little Italy but now, on Beaubien East Street.  Traffic for Jules was horrendous, so I sat outside on a park bench in the sunshine (it was still warm, then).  Then I took a few pics in preparation.  Cute little brother and big sister skipped by.  I was amused as it seemed everyone who passed by sounded French from France.  Had me wondering what area I was in after all.  Very residential with little business like this one on the ground floor and apartments above.

Julie arrives and we pick a table.  Always a good sign when the other patrons speak the lingo.  We get the menus and I see that the Cuban Sandwich is NOT there.  And yet, when I Googled it, it was.  Hmmm…. I ask the waiter if they do do Cubanos and he says, get this:  “Not today”.  What?  “I am sorry, tomorrow you can have some.  Today we cook the pork and it takes hours. There are none today.”

Fuck.

Looked at Julie and said, “What to do now?  I am on a Cubano Sammy search.”  She agrees we need to find another place so here we are sitting in this restaurant, with our glasses of water we dare not touch, Googling for other restaurants in the vicinity.

We come upon La Bodeguita de Montréal on St. Laurent Street, a 7-minute drive away.  We decide to go with just my car – why look for two parking spots?  While I’m driving, Jules says.. “Hmmm.. their Facebook page says it’s closed.”  Dammit.  On the Google page, it says Fridays it is open from noon.  We keep going, not knowing who to trust.  We get there.  Door is locked.

Fuck.

More Googling, and by now, our stomachs are starting to auto-digest and we need us some grub.  We do NOT want to drive to downtown as that will take us a good 23-40 minutes.  Julie finds one on Park Avenue – but it’s a Mexican joint!  BUT the comments on whatever site she is looking at says you MUST try the Cuban Sandwich.

We need no further reason.  What a fabulous find!  Lemme tell you, Linds and Marc, if I decide to crash your taco party, Imma go back to this spot called Ta Chido on Park Avenue.

Colourful, joyful, smell of fresh bread cooking, kitschy as all get-out, we are charmed immediately.  Screw the Cubano, if we must.  By now it is quite cool and we choose to sit inside.  Then move to outside.  I did NOT know there exists some Mexican Heavy Metal… Thankfully it was playing pretty low (so wish I had Shazamed it 😉 )

I have to share some of the decor with you…

Okay, I’ve made you wait enough, haven’t I?  Let’s get to serious bidness.  As we were starving, we ordered a bowl of guacamole with the usual chips and chicháronnes. We stuck with water for today.

I explain to our waitress – sweetest gal ever – that I am on a Cubano mission and though I realise that this is a Mexican place, they do have what they call a Cubano… She says:  “Well that is what WE call it too.  But.. I am so sorry to tell you, we are out of jamón.”

Sigh.

Julie suggests we get two different sandwiches and share.  And frankly, that is a great idea.  So, Jules gets the “Tinga de pollo” – pulled chicken sautéed with onions and chipotle peppers, mayo, black bean spread, avocado, tomatoes, sour cream and feta cheese.

And I had the “Cubana” – breaded beef cutlet, pulled pork and ham (though there was none), mayo, cheese, black bean spread, avocado, tomatoes and caramelized onions.

Julie found the chicken needed some oomph and was glad to pour on the jalapeño sauce that was brought to the table.  I agree.

The “Cubano” had nary a Cubano element… but was very tasty for me.

We are 0 for 2 in the authentic Cubano search.

However.  After some discussion, and poor Julie still has no idea what a real Cubano is…I give it a solid 6/10.  Why so high when there were only two elements in the sammy?

That bread.  That bread was so bloody divine, I cared not one whit that it had never seen the inside of a press.  So good, in fact, that Imma go aaaaalllll the way there to buy some to make MY OWN Cubanos…  And for my celiac friends, they also make gluten free… though I would check out the facilities to make sure there is no cross-contamination.  I didn’t go look, to tell the truth.

The pulled pork was tasty, as was that piece of beef and caramelized onion.  Avocados are a favourite ingredient of mine and pretty much end up in all of my sandwiches.

The chicháronnes were light and crunchy and addictive.  the guacamole was delicious with just the right amount of smooth and chunk.

We felt we had made quite the discovery after all the shenanigans of finding a bloody place to eat.  Plus, Julie still wants to be my cohort for the next run.  Win-Win-Win.

As a result…

A little extra “blah-blah-blah” as our day was not done…

Traffic was gonna be crap for both of us, so we decided to go to the Marché Jean Talon to browse all the wonderful produce, get inspired for supper – right, like I was gonna eat supper – and maybe flirt with Frank from Birri Farms.  (What?  He’s gorgeous, Italian, single and such a flirt…)

On our way there, as we were approaching a stop light, I was pointing out a restaurant we had talked about when BANG!  I got hit from behind.  WTF?  Both of us were stunned.  I got out of the car and the guy behind got out of his apologising profusely.  First thing he asked was if were we hurt, then we checked our cars.  Mine had nothing, his, a cracked bumper.  I asked him if he wanted to fill out papers and he declined (I might add his car was a clunker).  Asked again if we were okay, apologised again and we were on our way.  We turned at the next street and pulled over to really check.  Nothing.  We both felt it in our necks – a light case of whiplash.  I know we are going to feel it tomorrow or the next day.