She refused to buy a digital clock for her bedside table.
She was worried about getting stuck in some kind of “Groundhog Day” time loop. Instead, she bought an old clock with arms nestled behind a rounded glass cover. The reassuring hands of the clock clicked softly forward and gave off an eerie atomic green shimmer in the dark.
She could doze off to its whispery analog sounds and whether she woke from a dead sleep or a fitful dream, always find her place in real time.
Dear Mr. Webster,
I love words and word play but even more, I love playing within the rules.
And there was a time when I honestly believed that your dictionary was a referee of language and words, protecting against the erosion of its meaning by insisting on certain standards for inclusion within its crisp pages. After all, your dictionary is used to definitively resolve Scrabble conflicts, crossword puzzle quandaries, subtleties of meaning, mysterious spellings and pronounciations and so much more in life.
But more recently, I feel that the dictionary you produce now simply reflects popular trends in vocabular malfeasance. For me, it no longer sets the standard by which we communicate but merely mimics the turbulent and fickle world of the Internet with its mindless memes and clickbait tactics. This makes me sad beyond measure.
WTF in Wallawalla
She needed a vacation – and not just the kind where she checked out of her mind during business meetings. Oh, and if she could conveniently leave her mental baggage at home, even better.
He talks contradiction,
explanations refracted by
He does not want // only desperately so
He does not care // completely consumed
He does not control // ever so tightly
Aggression spills from his
well-intentioned heart, a
He does not judge // except this once
He does not lie // it’s self rationalization
He does not overstep boundaries // only out of concern
My heart squints while I read
between his lines, my loneliness
tangled in his words.
She was depressed but secretly so
and on a bright hot day, tucked into the cool darkness of a mostly empty movie theater, she cried at odd times over strange things into her bag of falsely buttered popcorn.
For several years, we have been baking two cakes every Mother’s Day weekend – these cakes are then auctioned off and the proceeds go to a shelter for homeless mothers. It gives me a huge amount of happiness to bake with the girls and donate the cakes to such a great cause.
Anyway, the Saturday before Mother’s Day in our home is “Happy Fridge Day”…….!
(PS, this year’s selections were root beer float cupcakes with marshmallow frosting and cherries and a three-layer Devils Food cake with milk chocolate icing – ugly but super tasty)