I cannot write about the things I will never write about. That is akin to asking Matter to blog about Anti-Matter. It would create a tear in the space-time continuum. And that is never a good thing.
This post topic comes from The Daily Prompt.
musings
Weekly Photo Challenge: The Sign Says… Okay To Drive Into Oncoming Traffic
Clear, succinct, easy to read. One problem: I’ve only got one lane to start with.
Permission to cross center line?
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Weekly Photo Challenge: The Sign Says… Loser
My son does some great screen printing. He made this t-shirt as a class project. I wish he would make me one! Or at least give me one of the stickers. (Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Would you wear this t-shirt? (I would.)
Weekly Writing Challenge: 1,000 Words, 10,000 Thoughts
The assignment: write 1k words about this photo.
HER: “Did you set the timer?” Did she see me? I don’t think she saw me.
HIM: “Ten more seconds.” Gwen is so withdrawn tonight.
HER: “Oh now I hear it ticking. I couldn’t before.” I think she recognized me.
HIM: “How’s the glaze coming?” Is Gwen angry with me?
HER: “Almost there.” She kept staring at me like she was trying to place me.
HIM: “I couldn’t find the cinnamon.” I should have let Gwen finish the custard. I know how much she loves using the torch.
HER: “This place gets so disorganized on our days off!” I should never have let the blonde grow back, she wouldn’t recognize me brunette.
HIM: “Tell me about it.” It’s not just tonight, let’s face it.
HER: “I prefer the nutmeg anyway.” But my God it was five years ago.
HIM: “Let’s hope they do too.” She’s been distant lately.
HER: “They won’t know.” It was a thousand miles from here.
HIM: “I haven’t seen them in here before, have you?” Or maybe she hasn’t been.
HER: “No. No I haven’t.” I thought I was safe.
HIM: “I think the guy at table 5 writes reviews.” Ever since I bought the ring I’ve been second guessing her.
HER: “Really? Reviews where?” Of all the French joints in all the towns in all the world Gary’s sister had to get dinner in this one.
HIM: “‘Chez Le Monde’.” Second guessing us.
HER: “Wow. ‘The mousse of the century’? That review?” Maybe she’s not in touch with Gary nowadays either.
HIM: “I think it might be the same guy.” I’m afraid she’ll turn me down.
HER: “In that case let’s use fresh fish for a change.” After all, I wasn’t the only one he hurt.
HIM: “Always thinking.” There I’ve said it.
HER: “What did he order besides the trout?” She hates Gary.
HIM: “The tomato aspic, the cold potato leek, and both kinds of mousse.” Stop examining everything fool.
HER: “If he’s not sampling for a review, that is a scary combination.” But she hates me more.
HIM: “Oops. Can you grab me the parsley?” I need to lighten up.
HER: “What am I, your sous chef?” I know her. Even if she doesn’t tell Gary, she’ll ruin things for me here.
HIM: “I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.” Nothing looks normal under a magnifying glass.
HER: “Deal.” Robert is such a good man.
HIM: “You about ready with the glaze?” I love her so much it’s terrifying.
HER: “Yeah here it is.” Maybe he would forgive me.
HIM: “Mmm. You’ve outdone yourself.” Maybe I should cancel our trip tomorrow.
HER: “I like the mint from the Thursday market.” For years of lies?
HIM: “Are you shaking?”That’s the beauty of a surprise hotel stay. She won’t know to be disappointed.
HER: “Cramp from stirring.” And what happens when he hears the truth?
HIM: “That’s dedication.” After three years together, what’s another few days?
HER: “Or a slippery spoon.” Could he forgive me that too?
HIM: “Trout smells ready.” Or even months.
HER: “I’ve got the butter going.” I’ll bet he could.
HIM: “I like the quality of the new lights. How about you?” Robert you’re a chickenshit.
HER: “Me too.” If anyone could.
HIM: “Forgot to warm the platter.” I could wait forever to ask if her answer is no.
HER: “I remembered.” But what if he can’t?
HIM: “You always remember.” Maybe she isn’t your woman of mystery.
HER: “I do. It’s true.” I can’t take the risk of losing him.
HIM: “I’d like to reinstate the brioche for Sunday brunch.” Maybe that holding back you always feel isn’t because she has secrets.
HER: “This early?” Maybe I’m overreacting.
HIM: “You’re right, last year we waited until July.” Maybe she’s holding back from me.
HER: “I need a new egg. This one is too light.” Maybe it’s not her.
HIM: “Hurry, please.” I can’t wait forever. I’ll drive myself insane in the meantime.
HER: “Hurrying. Without running in the kitchen, of course.” I think I can see her if I look out the window.
HIM: “Of course.” I’ll ask her tomorrow as planned.
HER: “Aaagh.” It’s her. Oh no Oh no what am I going to do?
HIM: “You okay?” Then we’ll know.
HER: “Lot of leg cramps lately.” I can’t go out there again.
HIM: “Should I worry?” She won’t even look me in the eye.
HER: “Only if you need to.” I need the right excuse to stay back here.
HIM: “That egg a keeper?” She is so beautiful.
HER: “Best egg of the week.” I can’t say I’m sick – I just prepared all their food.
HIM: “Okay. Showtime.” She’s a better chef than I am too.
HER: “Wait. Coconut shavings.” I’ll have to cut myself.
HIM: “How could I forget that.” It’s amazing how humble she is.
HER: “Table 5 has given you nerves.” Not bad enough to need an ambulance.
HIM: “Tonight he gets the mousse of the millenium.” When she says she doesn’t deserve me she sounds like she believes it.
HER: “That has a ring to it.” Just bad enough we don’t want the customers to see me.
HIM: “We’ll each deliver a mousse to him. He’ll love it.” You see there is every reason to expect she’ll say yes.
HER: “Here, let’s send some samples to the foursome.” Oh Robert someday I’ll tell you.
HIM: “Brilliant marketing.” I’ll ask her tomorrow.
HER: “You never know who’s at your table.” Please forgive me until then.
HIM: “Gwen! My God, you cut yourself!
HER: “It’s nothing. Throw me that towel, will you?
HIM: “That’s a lot of blood!”
HER: “Stopped now. But it’s all over me. You’d better deliver the mousse without me.”
957 words. This piece exists because of this Weekly Writing Challenge.
Weekly Photo Challenge: The Sign Says… A Question Well Worth Asking
I’m sorry I was late for work the day I spotted this bumper sticker. Might have liked to stick around to meet the owner. Perhaps Bop the mean cat should pose this question to herself. (Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Bumper sticker parked outside neighborhood Starbuck’s.
Weekly Photo Challenge: The Sign Says… Hmm. About That Cyclist…
I am not sure how to interpret this advisory sign:
Beware of …?
Am I to understand that they lack cyclists there?
Or do they only care about one of the cyclists?
Should I watch out because one of the cyclists (and apparently all the hikers) are dangerous?
Or is the takeaway message if the hikers don’t get you, the cyclist will?
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
The Daily Prompt: The Zone – Digging for Boulders
I love to dig in my garden. My neighborhood lies in the foothills of a mountain range, so all the yards are full of rocks of many sizes which were shed from the mountains in ancient landslides.
When I dig a hole for a new plant, I am a rock archaeologist, discovering buried artifacts. Except I don’t have to be careful where I slam my shovel. Sometimes the rock is so weathered that I can pull it apart with my hands, exposing fresh glittering crystals in the local granite (technically a granodiorite, for other rock nerds).
When the shovel catches and bends, I know I’ve caught a big one. A boulder. Then I dig from many angles, eventually on my knees with my hands, to excavate it. Often a rock is lodged in place against several other rocks, still locked and buried. I have to use my fingers deep inside the hole to figure out which rock to move next in order to release my target. So removing a lodged-in-place rock requires working a 3D puzzle with your eyes closed.
And when I finish the puzzle, I have a hole for my plant and new borders for my garden.
The undug.
This post topic comes from The Daily Prompt.
The Daily Prompt: Silver Linings
We could debate whether silver linings exist in reality or in attitude but the answer may not matter. Either way, from my perspective, the ability to perceive silver linings is essential to happiness, contentment, and peace of mind. Silver linings are all about the ability to hope, to get past the inevitable bad and ugly times with the belief it gets better. Many other people have thought about this, too, that’s why we have anonymous sayings like
If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
or the Springsteen lyric
It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.
or Eugene O’Neil’s
Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.
I know a young woman who tried to kill herself this year. Twice. In between, she found a boyfriend – apparently also preoccupied with death – who did then kill himself. I have struggled and flailed to find the right words or argument that would convince her to keep going, to not give up. But I realize it won’t be anybody’s words that turn her around. The desire to live has to come from the inside.
When I was younger I was obsessed with not getting tricked or fooled and I was always determined to Know the Truth in every situation. I don’t think I care about that nowadays. I’m not saying I believe everything I read or hear. I’m not saying I’ve lost interest in truth. All I’m saying is that a suspicious nature takes a severe toll.
It is a fantasy to imagine I or anyone can live without illusions. Optimism is a kind of illusion. Optimists live longer and happier lives. (There are scientific studies about this so it must be true.) My current thinking is that I am going to believe that things will work out and life will evolve in good ways. Maybe on my deathbed I will say Wulp I was sure wrong about that. but in the meantime I will have enjoyed many days of hope and enthusiasm rather than bitterness and resentment.
Wildfires make nasty air.
Wildfires make gorgeous sunsets.
This post topic comes from The Daily Prompt.
Cruelty and Compassion, Feline Style
Because we must be insane, we have 5 cats. Two grown cats, Bop and Luna, age 10; and three teen cats age 8 months. The youngsters immediately displayed distinct personalities but are all as friendly and as loving as can be.
Bop (left) and Luna. Bop needs an attitude adjustment. Luna is an object of worship. In ten years together this is the only time they have ever hung out together!
One of the grown cats, Luna, tolerates the youngsters but avoids them because whenever they spot him, all three converge to incessantly sniff him and follow him and try to get him to touch noses with them.
Grown cat Bop wants to be the only critter and she never will be, which has made her bitter. She is sweet to humans but chases the 45 pound dog; she is prone to unpredictable attacks on Luna (until Luna whaps her one); and she wants to kill the youngsters. Whenever she gets the chance she attacks youngsters Arrow and Bo.
Arrow and Bo, the most frequent victims.
Mostly we have kept her separate from the youngsters, which is even more of a pain than it sounds. Every so often we let them mingle, in hopes the youngsters will realize that they are now larger than Bop, and that if they stand up to her she will leave them alone. Bop is a classic bully. But so far the youngsters still run.
Recently, for the first time, Bop attacked the youngest cat, Leo, who started as a runt and doesn’t understand that he is now enormous. Leo’s is a goofy and gentle soul. He purrs when he eats. He plays with the dog’s tail.
Leo, the latest victim. Ferocious looking, isn’t he?
When Bop chased him, Leo got so scared he wet himself.
Now this is where the story gets good. After I sprayed Bop with water and locked her away, the other 10-year-old, Luna – the worshipped one – demanded to come inside.
He went over to Leo and touched noses with him several times, apparently in solidarity. Then he went back outside.
Leo pulled himself together a little and soon the other youngsters showed up to help Leo with his grooming. Within the hour he was back to his goofball ways.
P.S. Although this post makes light of it, I’d appreciate any advice about how and whether the youngsters can be put together with Bop. My son wants to get rid of Bop, but I can’t do that. She may be a mean asshole but she is part of the family.
Bop the villain, back when we had a rabbit. Bop loved to go in the rabbit’s cage, probably for the adrenaline rush. The rabbit attacked anyone who went near that cage. Bop and the rabbit were kindred spirits.
Infinity at the Dude Ranch
This is the symbol for infinity, a concept that gives me a headache and makes me feel privileged to be part of the universe. Even at its most routine and mundane, daily life takes place in this astonishing place that must go on forever, else there would be an outer edge with nothing beyond it. (Ow. Headache.) Infinity doesn’t induce headaches in mathematicians, though. Math, for all its rigor and precision, very comfortably accommodates infinity. There are infinities everywhere in math. An infinite collection of numbers exist between 0 and 1, for example. Also, you can do a calculation and get a result that goes to infinity but you can still know the quantity well enough to engineer a bridge based on that calculation.
When I look at the symbol for infinity I think, what goes around comes around. I think of the mobius strip. I dwell on karma. So many westerners including me wield the concept of karma as revenge. You’ll get what you deserve. Lately I’ve been attempting to exercise my very under-used sense of compassion. From this effort I realize that karma, viewed from the perspective of compassion, takes on a very different meaning. We are all in this together. You must face your karma just as I must face mine.
This symbol also suggests the Lazy 8 Dude Ranch. When I was a kid my parents took me on a Dude Ranch vacation. So mortifying. I couldn’t control my damn horse. It kept taking me back to the barn. (I never got the horse appreciation thing.) Recalling this, I speculate that perhaps memory loss increases with age because our brains become cluttered with pointless recollections like my dude ranch horse. And of course, with TV theme songs from the ’60s.
This post topic comes from The Daily Prompt.
Required Writing 