Good Thursday, my peeps. It’s a grey day here and I wanted to go for my daily walk but I was on slo-mo and now I can’t go because my contractor is coming for some last minute thingies and I’ve run out of time. If I had been smart and organized, I’d have been out the door by nine but hey, I’m nothing if not go-with-the-flow. As a result, well, why not play Friday Fictioneers? Go on over to Rochelle’s blog by clicking here to find out the how-to’s inspired by Roger Bultot’s photo below. Got a 100-word story simmering in your noggin that just needs release? Click on the the lovebirds below and add your link. G’head, it’s fun!
Going over some old photographs today, I found our trip to Brooklyn. Do you remember? It was November and the trees were still dressed in golden yellow leaves. We were excited to be together again.
We were determined to cross into Manhattan by subway (getting lost in the confusing labyrinth), so we could walk back over the Brooklyn Bridge. Such tourists we were. 🙂 We decided to stop for pizza at Grimaldi’s and had to pool our money, because they only took cash. Best pie ever!
Just thought I’d bring you for my walk down memory lane…
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.
I took a short trip down memory lane with this one… Okay, that’s not entirely true as I had this very lunch just last week…
Comfort
Is an Aylmer’s cream of tomato soup with a side of sandwich.
The choice of sandwich is important. Plain will work in a pinch, but toasted is always best.
Some will swear by baloney (bologna) – plain or fried, thin or thick. Salami, ham, pressed chicken work
! But oh! A grilled cheese? That’s the best!
The magic happens when you dunk your sammie into the soup and savour!
Add The Flintstones and you are ten years old again.
Hello my peeps. Lovely to see you on this first hump day in August. How it is already August when July was barely a day long is beyond me, but I digress. Rochelle may be off cavorting in the ocean on vacay but she still manages to host this weekly shindig. She is a rockstar, eh? When I saw this photo by the super-talented Sandra Crook, I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Then I remembered (vaguely) that I was pretty sure I had written about this experience before. Dang it! A search revealed that I did. Back in June, 2017. Wait… back in 2017… who the hell is gonna remember it anyhow, right? Right. And, hey, it happens that others repost old stuff. This is more of a rearranging. Apologies to those who do remember it. I was surprised to see the number of Fictioneers from then who are still around today. Hope the newbies enjoy… If you’ve got an idea for a 100-word original story, then by all means, do click on the frog below and add your link. G’head. It’s fun 🙂
Click me to play!
“Total gridlock, Mon, in Sint Maarten! We’re gonna miss the boat!”
The walkie-talkie crackled with Sébastien’s voice. “If I make a move, you guys gonna follow?”
“Hah! Go? There’s nowhere to go!” Mick grumbled.
Karl’s voice came on, “We’re in!”
Suddenly Sébastien’s jeep, followed closely by Karl’s, passed us on the left. On the sidewalk. People scurried out of the way.
“Are they stupid?”
“You best be stupid, too, if you don’t wanna miss the boat!” I yelled. The song “Bumpy Ride” came on the radio. Serendipity? A sign?
A few days ago, Ally, from The Spectacled Bean (why I kept seeing Speckled instead of Spectacled, is beyond me, and I apologize, Ally), shared some quirky deets about her father. This was inspired by her watching the last season of Grace and Frankie (which I loved, too), in particular, the Paprikash episode where Grace reconnects with her long-lost brother on false pretenses because she has a hankering for chicken paprikash and desperately wants the family recipe which her brother knows off by heart. He never got a chance to know their father and wants Grace to share her memories. Grace doesn’t want to because it hurts too much. Her brother comes to realise that he is not there because Grace has missed him and goes to leave but Frankie, in true Frankie fashion, finds a way for him to stay. With every memory Grace shares, he gives her an ingredient.
Quite the intro to the raison d’être of this post, eh? I purposefully waited until today, Father’s Day, to share my list. I was lucky enough to have him until I was 49, unlike 15 for Ally. To think my kids were 15 and 16 when they lost theirs. Sigh.
So, without further ado, here are ten things about my dad
1️⃣ He was thrilled to be mistaken for Captain Picard – it’s hard to get a picture because Dad always smiled with his teeth, while Sir Patrick smiles closed-mouthed… During the Pandammit, when Patrick Stewart read the Shakespearean sonnets, shared on FB and Twitter, I kept being taken aback. They have many facial expressions that matched; it was uncanny.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
2️⃣ He loved to listen to the Boston Pops on Sunday nights – we really think it was to annoy the shit out of Mom more than love of the music.
3️⃣ He loved Rod Stewart’s “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy” and would dance around in his goofy way, while clicking his tongue to the beat.
4️⃣ He insisted on setting a nice table, using bowls for ketchup and other condiments – do NOT even think of putting a bottle of ketchup on the table!
5️⃣ After he died, we found a penny in every single coat pocket because he always kept the ones he found, saying they were Pennies from Heaven, from his grandson, Austin.
6️⃣ He did a 180° flip from saying how much he paid for stuff to how little. Having been raised on welfare, he planned on having more than enough one day – and did, which he was so proud of and flaunted. Then he got older and wiser and realised that saving a buck was nothing to be ashamed of – which, of course, he now went on and on about.
7️⃣ He excelled at playing the overseer when construction projects were underway at any of our houses 😏 Though, in fairness, he was very adept at putting hammer to nail as well.
8️⃣ He always dressed well. Loved looking sharp, whether casual or formal.
Celebrating the Virgos
Some cruise with Mom
Formal evening with Mom
Wedding of a friend with Susan
9️⃣ He was a natural artist. One day, he decided to paint. So he did. He sold most of his paintings, too. And then he stopped. I guess I take after him for that – losing interest after a while…
Painting Dad made for me
🔟 He had no regrets, he said. Had a wonderful life and stood behind all his choices. When he wanted something he went for it. It took him years to finally get a sailboat. Until it was a reality, sail magazines graced the house all over the place, top of the toilet, night stand, living room table. I think it was a sort of vision board exercise.
Official naming
Captain Dad & Iain
Happy place
I’m sure so many other things will come to mind once I press publish, but like Dad, I’ll stand behind my choices. Thank you again, Ally, for inspiring me to write this post.
it is Haibun Monday today on dVerse, hosted by Frank J. Tassone. Today, we are to write about Cold Mountain – a Chinese poet from sometime in the 9th century, during the Tang Dynasty. His poetry has influenced both Zen practitioners and eastern style poets. The immediacy of his work embodies the emphasis on the present moment that defines Zen aesthetics. The Beat Poets were moths drawn to his fire. Well. That is quite the mouthful. Thankfully, Frank has not limited us to trying to become Chinese Zen Masters. His instructions are as follows:
Today, write you haibun on either one of the following options:
A Cold Mountain: the towering heights, frigid temperatures, majestic views, or existential challenges of a mountain. You could even go metaphorical, describing the cold mountain of overwhelming circumstances, or how we make mountains out of mole hills.
The Cold Mountain: a haibun that follows the influence of Hanshan (Cold Mountain), with his immediacy, concern for humanity, and deep devotion to nature.
I knew a man who believed he could climb any mountain. And he did. Life was never a walk in the park. A difficult childhood, a substance addiction, a near bankruptcy, were all stepping stones for him. He always made the choice to live. He cleaned himself up, he paid his debts, and he worked his way up from sweeping floors to fixing machinery to designing to owning his own company. An autodidact who didn’t understand the word quit.
Some mountains are harder and colder to climb than others. And some, you cannot reach the top, no matter how much you desire it.
Welcome to Wednesday! The day when most of the Friday Fictoneersers deposit a link to their 100-word story via frog. I kid you not. We really do! Once upon a time, they were deposited on Fridays but, over time, it’s become a thing to do it as early as possible. (I figure it’s coz we know it gives us more time to read all the others… maybe Rochelle has an explanation. Then again, maybe it’s just simple evolution. It matters not. Here we are!
Apologies in advance. I fear I have not gone the fiction way, yet again. This wonderful photo, supplied by the equally wonderful Bill Reynolds, has sent me down memory lane. Much as people heard me go on and on and on about Tuscany, we had to hear Mick go on and on about his desire for a Ford F-150 truck. He wasn’t looking for one quite so “vintage” as this one, however 🙂
Click to play!
How did your meeting with Raffi go? Is he pleased with the way the business is going?
He said I’m doing great, that if I keep working hard, my business will keep growing. He has faith in me.
Fabulous! So, what’d he say about you getting your Ford F-150?
Raffi said no.
Damn.
He said it won’t be long.
And you’ll heed his wisdom.
Of course. He’s not steered me wrong yet. He said he only wished Armen would listen as well as I do!
It is Wednesday. I thought, nah… I can’t. I won’t. But then I did. It’s time for Friday Fictioneers and I’m maybe doing a little FanFic at the same time. I cannot remember the last time a book grabbed me so completely. And to think it’s an Audible one to boot. I think it’s thanks to Julie Harris’ fantastic reading of West With the Night that has so enraptured me. I’m maybe halfway through and I so highly recommend it my friends will think I’m a royal pain in the ass. What can I say? I love what I love… So yeah. Na’ama‘s wonderful photo could be used in so many ways. This is mine. Thank you, my NYNF. And thank you, Rochelle for tirelessly rounding us cats up! Click on the frog below to check out what other fabulous 100-stories were created. Or, hey, how about you add your own?
Her light might have been the only one on in the building, not that she cared. A rumble of thunder had her glance through the window, enlightening her to the darkening sky. She mentally shrugged, took a sip of her tea, and re-immersed herself in the boar hunt in Africa…
…the belly of the earth was hot as live ash under our feet. Except for an occasional gust of fretful wind that flattened the high, corn-like grass, nothing uttered…
She sighed. Hemingway was right. “Bloody, wonderful book”.
One of Mick’s Coca Cola mugs, worn down, much loved
I was reading Pam’s wonderful Christmas tale, “The Last Christmas Gift”. Do please go and read it here … it might help explain my sudden inspiration to “pen” this. Pam’s story was so beautifully written that I found myself sitting in the circle she described, drinking my own cup of hot chocolate or coffee, or both, that I stopped reading and went to make myself a mocha coffee before returning to her tale.
Memories were now evoked of the times my mother made for us, and that I later made for my kids, hot chocolate, using real cocoa from the yellow and red Fry’s can, sugar, and a small amount of cold milk to create a smooth, mud-like texture before slowly adding the hot milk while stirring it all together. No lumps guaranteed if you make it this way. Sometimes there were marshmallows, most times not. Mom wasn’t into instant anything, except Minute Rice, but that was only for her rice salad, never anything else.
Why is it that things that take just a bit longer to make, meaning you had to wait for it, taste so much more? To make this come-in-from-the-cold treat all the better, Mom served it with buttered toast. And that’s another thing, what is it about afternoon or nighttime toast smells and tastes like it comes from a whole other dimension? You can’t even compare it to the toast served with your eggs and yet it’s the same product.
Now I’m mad at myself for not making a toast to go with… then again, it’s not late enough in the afternoon to justify it. I think this is my cue to go out and get my 10K steps. There are only seven days left for me to be able to say I did it for one whole year.
For the Canadians and Brits and the areas in the States that celebrate, Happy Boxing Day! For those with no holiday, Happy Sunday! I hope you have been able to take time away from the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations and over-eating and just be.
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.
I was going somewhere totally different had I done this yesterday. But yesterday, I decided to not play in the blogosphere. And today was a day that deserved a mention.
One yearyear ago today your life was snuffed out. You were but twenty-two years old. So much living ahead of you. It is so hard not to ask the question “Why?” But then, why not? We are not in control of these things.
We move forward without the physical you. And we congregate with your parents and your loved ones; all the people your glowing persona touched in one way or another.
We raise a glass to you and consider ourselves blessed that your light touched us, no matter how briefly.
De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo hosted dVerse Quadrille yesterday. Took me some finagling to get my 44 words to where I was willing to share them. I shoulda chosen another subject because now my memories have come flooding in and this limitation is causing me grief!
Taotalk is a forum for the discussion of both the academic and pragmatic aspects of dao and Daoism, with participants expressing themselves on Daoist writings and pragmatics from their unique perspectives. It serves as a community for Daoists, and those interested in Daoism, to gather and talk dao.
Memories were now evoked of the times my mother made for us, and that I later made for my kids, hot chocolate, using real cocoa from the yellow and red Fry’s can, sugar, and a small amount of cold milk to create a smooth, mud-like texture before slowly adding the hot milk while stirring it all together. No lumps guaranteed if you make it this way. Sometimes there were marshmallows, most times not. Mom wasn’t into instant anything, except Minute Rice, but that was only for her rice salad, never anything else.
A Dalectable Life 