The Missing Instructions – Diary Entry

 

We both have colds and sore throats and are otherwise not feeling well.  So we decided to have a frozen pizza tonight – one of those frozen things we keep on hand just in case.

It’s our first experience, either of us, with frozen pizza.  The instructions call for a  400 degree oven,  but it doesn’t say if we are to remove that piece of cardboard.  Himself left it on.  Oh geez 😦  We’ll see.

Hahaha!  I read my post to him before posting.  He re-read the instructions.  We still don’t know.

Ellespeth

When I Didn’t Know Much – A Poem

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  This week’s photo prompt is provided by Mark with the blog @any1mark66. Thank you Mark!

Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photo and my poem that might become a story one day:

When I Didn’t Know Much

The cicada’s song
used to grate on me
night
after hot summer’s night

echoing from one corner
of my life
to the other

taunting the silent spaces
of retreat.

It is
that quiet emptiness
I long for now

years later.

Ellespeth

Surely A Pregnant Sweet Potato

Happy Thanksgiving!

One benefit of my fall, and injury, and ever-ongoing recovery is sometimes having the grocery delivered. Since we are having a very small number of people over for a belated Saturday Thanksgiving meal, grocery delivery seemed the best option. I just couldn’t see walking through the grocery store this week and I couldn’t imagine asking you to go without me so, we ordered grocery.

I’m just a tad concerned about the sweet potatoes…the size of them. I have never seen a sweet potato this huge! If I may show you…

That’s a penny on top of one and a nickel in the front. These are mini odd-shaped pumpkins, right? We think one will feed the four of us. My concern is: I wonder if such a large size makes them tough in some way?

Ah well…if need be, I can just boil the hell out of them and mash them up because where I come from, of course, one must have sweet potatoes on Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Ellespeth  

Push-Ups – Diary Entry

Oh goodness! I thought I’d make an update entry re: my 2/7/17 fall and injury but my husband’s current hobby is a better choice.

Ya see, what once was our study has now become his ‘hanger’. I want to put a picture of it here one day…model airplanes hanging from the ceiling and walls – a decorating skill of his that sparked that first little love fizz I felt when we initially met.

He builds and flies model airplanes. He even hangs his crashed ones out for the world to see. Right now, he’s building one called a push-up. All these little pieces and then sanded and then covered with silk and all so lovely. Like this so far:

So he needed some sort of art to put on the nose of the model. So he did an internet search for push-up:

He laughed at the bra art and contemplated using that but:

Me: Are you nuts? You can’t go out in public during the present sexually heightened times and fly a model airplane with a bra on its nose!

Him: What are you talking about?

Me: Recent sexual harassment charges in the news. Those?

Him: What?

SMH. I would truly love to be so clueless. He is much better at not reading the news than I am.

But, he has agreed not to use the bra for his plane’s nose art:

Him:  I see your point.  I’ll use the penguin and Betty Boop.

Me: Thank you. Would you like your tea now?

Him: Yes.

Me: Ginger cookie?

Him: Okay.

And that was a ‘click, click’,  just perfect moment of seeing him as the child he must have been.

Ellespeth 

Coding – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  This week’s photo prompt is provided by any1mark66. Thank you Mark! Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photo and my story:


Coding

Around the time my brother was into coding everything, a phase during one late Fall that didn’t last long, I had a slumber party. I, and most of the girls attending, had recently celebrated ‘Sweet Sixteen”. We were primed for almost anything life had to offer, and often went looking for offers.

This night, though, inside the large camping tent my dad had pitched for us in our backyard, something magical was about to happen.

I’d snatched a cryptic drawing from my brother’s room. (I mean, he reads my diary and I snatch his cryptic drawings. OK?) The group of us, encased in the golden glow of some techy lantern dad had put in the tent, reflected quite earnestly upon the drawing.

“This could be a special code,” someone said.

And we all agreed it could be just that, but we never did agree upon the actual code.

Ellespeth

(w/c 150)