What a Wednesday morning. Tell me, when does an oil change mean only an oil change? Never, that’s when. As I had to be at the garage for 7:30, I didn’t have time to write my FF. I didn’t think I’d be spending five hours there, so I didn’t bring my laptop. Oh well. Silver linings and all that. I got my steps in before noon. So there’s that, right? Thank you, always, to our leader, Rochelle for hosting and would you look at that? I know that pic!
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Jason stepped back, admiring his handiwork, a satisfied grin on his visage. Anything could become art with a little imagination. Chores didn’t have to be dull and boring. He was convinced his parents would be pleased that he had stacked the wood. On the first asking, no less.
He heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway and quickly hid behind the tree to hear their first reaction. Both car doors slammed shut and then silence.
“Patti. Come and see what Jason did.”
“Well, now. It is stacked, as requested…”
“In the front. Around the window.”
It’s Wednesday! You know what that means! It means Friday Fictioneers where we try to fool you into thinking it’s the wrong day! Our fellow FriFic buddy, Ted Strutz is recuperating enough to start snapping pictures again, so our lovely leader Rochelle has shown her support to his recovery by using his photo this week as prompt. Do play along by clicking on the frog below and adding your 100-word story, with beginning, middle and end.
Nicki leaned over the rail, arms spread out as if trying to capture the wind, the mountains, delighting in the salty spray misting her face. Her eyes sparkled, “Isn’t this absolutely beautiful?”
Tony stared straight ahead, wishing for death or at least terra firma. “Would you step away from the railing, please?” he gritted through his teeth. “Makes me nervous.”
“Oh, pooh! Stop worrying! Oh. My. Are the bands not working? I so hoped they would. We’re almost there. Do you know how much I love you for doing this?”
“When I can breathe without heaving, you can show me.”
Good Wednesday! It is time for Friday Fictioneers, where a bunch of us rush to post on Wednesday because Friday seems too far away. This week our lovely leader, Rochelle, has gotten the rights to Jennifer Pendergast’s lovely photo. Did an idea pop into your head upon seeing this lovely bit of children’s art? Then by all means, do share by clicking on my Lego frog below and add the link to your 100-word story!
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Hey babe, what are you up to?
I’m creating a collage.
It looks like a child made it.
Good, it’s supposed to. I am calling it “Innocence at Play”.
No, seriously. It looks like a three year old made it.
Right. And like I said, that is good. It’s what I’m aiming for.
Are you telling me that you will get paid for this crap?
It is not crap. It is art. And yes, I will.
The shit you can get away with when you are a recognized artist.
Isn’t it grand? Plus, it pays the mortgage, so stop bitching.
Good Wednesday, my peeps! It’s Friday Fictioneer’s time and Rochelle not only hosts, she even supplies this week’s wonderful art/inspiration. After reading her story, I felt the need to add my two cents’ worth 😉 In all fairness, I’ve not been to Katz’s – yet. So, this is all in jest, of course. Maybe. If you’ve a more original idea for a story, by all means, please click on the frog below and add your 100-word story link.
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As Far As Delicatessens Go…
This week Rochelle went on and on about Katz’s Deli. Course, ‘Muricans know nothing ’bout smoked meat. They are all about the pastrami – which ain’t a bad thing, just not the same thing. Not trying to shit-disturb over here y’understand, just trying to enlighten.
Lemme tell you, if ever she manages to get her butt up to Montreal, Imma take ‘er to Schwartz’s Deli so’s she can see the difference betwixt smoked meat and pastrami. Like night and day, I tell ya.
Next thing you know, Rochelle’s gonna try to tell me that New York bagels are better than Montreal’s!
In the spirit of sharing, here’s a little video and link for ya about Schwartz’s.
It’s Thursday and I am late to the party. Fashionably? Truth is, I wasn’t even sure I would play this week but I am totally skipping class, so to speak. I needed a break from the monotonous task that was leaving me brain-dead at work so I have snuck out for a few moments to get that grey matter working. Shhh… don’t tell my boss. Thank you to Rochelle for hosting this party and to Brenda Fox for bringing the party favours. Should you want to play along, just click on my frog carousel below and add your link to your 100-word story. K. Back to work. None the wiser…
Do you ever feel like you’ve been somewhere before even though you know you haven’t? It’s like a strange familiarity wraps itself around you.
I am walking in the Charles-de-Gaulle Esplanade in Montpellier when I see a beautiful old carousel. There’s that feeling of déjà vu I mention. As in “already seen”. I have yet to set foot in France.
Not déjà vu after all. In Florence, in the Piazza della Repubblica, they have an almost identical carousel situated in a square just like this one.
Must be a European thing, I can’t imagine this in Phillips Square in Montreal!
Good Wednesday morning, Peeps! Well looky-here… I can’t very well not participate in Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers when she uses my pic now, can I? So, I am. And you can too, if you wish. Just click on the frog below and add the link to your own 100-word story… it’s fun, g’head!
Other than weddings, funerals, the occasional baptism and a midnight mass or two to please Mémère, we didn’t go to church. My mother was pretty much done with it and nuns yet she made us do the Catholic rituals of first communion and confirmation. I don’t even remember if I ever went to confession. No matter, I’m a remarried widowed divorcée, not sure I’m even allowed to partake now, anyhow.
As for prayer, never was one much for that, either. Anne Lamott’s “Help Thanks Wow” made me realise that when I chat with the Universe? It’s kinda like a prayer.
I’d like to first offer my condolences to Liz on the loss of Don. My deepest condolences to you. Sending much love your way.
Secondly, I must wish happy birthday to my sister Lisa… Happy birthday, Sis! I love you to bits!
And finally… welcome to Friday Fictioneers, a place where peeps gather round the fire tended by Rochelle every week. Rochelle could not have made a better choice today (even if she didn’t know it at the time). I saw this and was immediately on a cruise in my mind… since we actually were on one, returning just before the shit officially hit the fan on Friday the thirteenth of March, 2020. Lordy. ‘Nuff of that. Click on the frog to play by adding the link to your 100-word story. G’head. It’s a great way to learn how to trim the fat from your writing…
Fall is here.
Yes, and it’s my favourite time of the year.
Mine, too. The weather is perfect. If it could only stay like this through till spring. Skip winter alltogether.
Not how it works in this neck, you know that. Why bother harping on it?
Coz this is the time I start itchin’.
Yeah. Itchin’ to book our next cruise for Spring Break.
Hah! You just said fall is your favourite. Enjoy it. Why rush?
One word for you: Planning ahead.
That’s two words.
Don’t be a smartass. Shall I call the sisters?
Duh! And don’t forget Mom!
Good Wednesday, my peeps! It’s been a while since I played Friday Fictioneer. I was inspired by the book I am reading. A special thank you to Penny Gadd for the use of her photo and to our hostess with the mostest, Rochelle for being there through thick and thin. Should you wish to play, just click on the frogs below and add the link to your own one-hundred-word story! G’head! It’s fun!
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Our Special Place
From the first weekend after school ended until the weekend it started up again, we lived at great-grandpa’s cottage. Though he was long gone, we refused to call it anything else. It felt disrespectful to rename it since he is the one who built it.
I remember the summer Bill arrived. We were ten and twelve. Though he was younger than I, we hit it off from the get. Our days were spent lazing in “my” hidden pool, away from all the other cottages.
Summer after summer, our friendship grew. Who knew I would end up marrying my best friend?
It’s Wednesday! Yessiree! That means it’s time to Friday Fictioneer. I must thank Ted Strutz (so glad to see you’re getting better every day!) for the use of his picture and to Rochelle, who, even while dipping her toes in the ocean, still keeps this show running. If you’d like to play along, just click on the jumble of frogs below to add your link to your 100-word story.
Click to play!
Bills Taxes Kids Housework Stress Job Love Health Frustration Disappointment Elation Excitement Sleeplessness Hunger Pain Empathy Boredom–
“ENOUGH! All of you, OUT. NOW!”
She took a deep breath. And another.
Oh, that felt good. She could feel her body, mind and soul come back together in a cohesive and natural state of being.
“Whatcha doing? And what’s that jumbled mess?”
“That mess is a serious purge of all that was taking over my body.”
“Now I can look at each piece individually and see what needs to be done. What stays, what goes. Prioritize and organize.
Don’t be mad at me, Rochelle! I was drawing a blank on what to do with this picture and then I saw in my ever-expanding draft files, the WWP for “tether”. Suddenly I had a story. So, merging two prompts is what I done did. That means you only have 80 words to read. Well, that and the blah blah I am doing as an intro 😉 I’m forgiven, right? Please? Thanks go to Roger Bultot for the use of his photo – wonder if he will ever play FF with us again? Should YOU feel like playing, just click on the frog below and add your fabulous 100 word story (don’t use me as a guide, you can use twenty more words!) and add your link!
No Need to Go Out
The doorbell rang and she looked through the peephole. “Yes, who is it?”
“Package for you, Ma’am. Need you to sign.”
“Just leave it at the door, please.”
“NO! Leave it. Just mark it delivered to Dot Parker. All the others do it.”
“Fine.” As he walked away, she heard him mutter “Stupid nutter.”
They say I’m tethered to my home. No, I’m not. I just don’t need to go out there.
At least that’s what she told herself.