Engine at the beach. What are the stories it could tell?
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Engine at the beach. What are the stories it could tell?
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
New York City subway ceiling. What do you see? I see a baby sea monster menacing Greenland.
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
View from the rooftop bar, Beekman Tower Hotel, Manhattan, looking across the East River to Queens. Light in foreground is the reflection of a candle in the bar.
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
I’m not much interested in normal. To me, normal is
However, normal is also
On dark days, I feel like everybody else knows the rules but nobody thought to let me know. Even then, though, I don’t want to go normal, I just want to be better informed.
This reminds me of one of my favorite pieces of writing – ever! – composed by my sister in 2nd grade:
(This post topic comes from The Daily Prompt.)
How do I manage my on-line privacy? That depends on the kind of privacy. On the trust scale — 1-to-10, 10 being fully open and 1 being Nixon — I have always had to fight against an inner Nixon, so on-line caution has never been difficult for me. I take what I think are sufficient security precautions and I don’t fret about them much. (Note to hackers and identify thieves: the preceding statement was not meant to be a challenge. Hand to heart, I’m not worth your time.)
I’ve struggled with a different kind of privacy. Work versus personal. When it comes to internet guardedness, the dealbreaker is whether my friends and connections on the site have tie-ins to my job. Which is not surprising. It’s a curious system, the work world so many of us dwell in. The majority of our hours are spent with people who do not matter to us, where we display personas that are not entirely us. But that’s another post entirely.
When I started my blog I was determined to just write like me and let what happens, happen. So far, I give myself a B, B- on meeting that intent. I would probably have a higher grade if I did not read my statistics. The temptation to pander can be strong. Although one of my favorite blogging outcomes is the realization that I really can’t predict who will find, read, or like anything.
Not sure what I will do if many people from work start hanging around my blog. (Probably not a big concern- we don’t have much in common.) I haven’t publicized my blog’s existence around the office. When someone has happened onto it, I have so far simply reclassified that colleague as a buddy and kept going.
(This post topic comes from The Daily Prompt.)
Yet another reason to be buried at sea. (Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
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.
Clear, succinct, easy to read. One problem: I’ve only got one lane to start with.
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
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.)
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.