Monthly Archives: June 2014

The Next FoodNetwork Star

Walking toward my car I heard voices.  I didn’t see anyone, but I know I heard talking.  The closer I got to my car the louder the voices became.  Then I heard…

“Shhh.  I think someone’s coming.”

Then silence.

I stopped and looked around.  I was alone.  Everyone had left for the day and I wasn’t far behind.

“That was a close one.”  A voice said from behind my car.

I tip-toed toward the driver’s side door, squatted, then duck-walked to the rear of my vehicle.  There they were.  Two cats enthralled in a conversation.  A medium gray and white short hair and a longer haired, sleek, black feline with a fluffy tail.

They were nose to nose conversing softly, sure they were alone.

“I’m not sure.”  The black one said.

“Oh, come on, don’t be chicken.  It’ll be fun.”  The gray and white said, convincingly.

“I have a boyfriend.” The apparent female retorted.

“Some boyfriend, he left you stranded here.  He’s nothing but a scraggly, homeless, tom-cat.”

“He’s in a band,” the black one said, trying her best to make him sound cool.

“Lemme guess, he’s in The Stray Cats.”  The gray and white laughed as he rolled onto his back, clutching his stomach.

My knees began to ache as I eavesdropped.  I shifted my position, and when I did, my knee popped.  Both of them turned in my direction.  They looked toward me, but not seeing me, they shrugged then turned back to each other.

“You’re hilarious.” The black one said as she turned and swished her tail under the gray and white’s nose then slithered through the weeds.

“Hey, where you going?  I was just joking.”  The gray and white asked, scampering after her, jumping through the tall grass.  “I know where to score some cat-nip.”

“Not interested.”  The black one said her nose in the air.

“Okay, not really.  I just didn’t want you to think I’m a square.”

“A square’s a shape.  I like shapes.”  She flirted.

“I have my library card; you wanna go check out some books about the solar system?”

“Negative.  Let’s get some books about exotic cuisine.  I’m going to be the next Food Network Star.  Besides, if rats can cook, so can I.  Speaking of rats, I’m hungry; let’s go see what the special is at the Chinese restaurant.”


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A Priceless Lesson

I had lunch with my best friend last week.  Since she lives in Florida, I considered it a treat.  Rarely do we get to sit and talk face to face, look each other’s expressions and know what’s really going on beneath the surface.  Like my mother, she knows when something is going on with me without my having to say a word.  The thing about people you know well, and vice versa, is they know whole truth about you and the fact that they love you anyway is priceless.    

Our talk drifted from the typical how are you’s and what’s been going on, to kids and family, then to the more everyday stuff.  Eventually we began talking about a circle of people we both know, but haven’t seen in years.  She asked me if I remembered a particular girl we went to high school with.  

“Of course,” I said. 

“When was the last time you saw her?”  She asked. 

“I don’t know, senior year, I guess.  Why?” 

She explained this girl friended her on Facebook.  I’m not on Facebook and those close to me know why.  The mention of this girls name, brought back memories of a nice, quiet, mannerly girl.  A cheerleader with full blond hair that hung past her shoulders, blue eyes and a perfect smile.  She was pretty it seemed on the inside and out.  I wasn’t especially close to her and I don’t remember much about her or her circle of friends and nothing really stands out to me about her, except she was nice.  She was, as it seemed, like everyone else, just wanting to graduate.  I had one class with her during high school.  I remember she kept her herself, did her work and like the rest of us, was uncomfortable when she had to get up in front of the class to give her speeches.  She gave me her senior year photo, which I still have. 

After taking a bite, my friend told me this girl was a dancer.  My mind began tumbling.  Dancer… ballerina, hip-hop, fly-girl, a Rockette?  Then it hit me.  I looked at my friend as soup dripped from my chin. 

“A stripper-dancer?”  I asked. 

She nodded giving me confirmation. 

Then the cynical me took over.  Judgment crept onto my face and overtook my mind.  Thoughtless words escaped my mouth.  I was in disbelief that this girl-next-door could be that.  

Then late that evening, I began thinking about her.  It occurred to me that I know nothing about the events of this girls life.  I know nothing of what happened to her after high school, as we grew from teenagers to adults.  I’m clueless as to the places life has or hasn’t taken her.  I felt ashamed for thinking badly of her.  Who am I?  I’m not exactly living my dream.  

Life is about choices and sometimes when we’re backed into a corner and we feel there is no way out, maybe we do things we ordinarily wouldn’t.  At the end of the day, all that matters is you feel you’ve done your best in whatever world you live in.  

It is unfair to hold others to my expectations.  I’m sure when she sits in the glow of those she knows best, she has that priceless feeling of being loved anyway.


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Kitchen Chaos

The machine choked and coughed as liquid poured out of it. The watery substance mixed with the rough granules crept over the machine. The appliance hissed and spit as the runny mess made its way onto the counter slowly creeping toward the screaming bananas; laughing its ominous laugh.
“We’re going to burn!” One of them shouted in fear.
“What the…this way, let’s go this way!” Another said, trying to pull the others as it closed its eyes, trembling.
The brown steamy fluid flowed toward the prescription drugs, finally overtaking them.
“Ah, dude, I don’t feel a thing,” one said.
“It’s like a hot-tub, man,” another announced. “Feels good.”
“I hate getting wet!” yet another yelled. Its cardboard body, losing its shape, as it began to warp.
The lava-like liquid continued and rolled under toaster. It giggled as the now cooling goo tickled its feet.
The cupcakes, tucked safely in a zip lock bag, squealed with delight as they flowed along the counter as if white water rafting; laughing and enjoying the ride.
I walked in the kitchen, turned on the light and nearly lost my mind. The coffee flowed out of the coffee maker and was everywhere. It poured between the counter and stove before I was able to mop it up. It was under the toaster, the fruit, the pill bottles, the cupcakes.
In my haste the night before, I neglected to place the carafe on the coffee pot, creating panic in the kitchen and a volcanic java spill the bananas and cupcakes will never forget. Until they’ve been eaten, of course. The prescription pills may have dissolved, giving the coffee a high of its own, without my rescue efforts
Still, the best part of waking up is Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in my cup. What’s in yours?

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