Andrew took my photo of a pepper plant and altered and added to it to make art. I am reblogging his post where he shows the fabulous result. Thanks, Andrew…Go Here:
https://brotherandrewspix3.wordpress.com/2021/11/29/boxes-of-pepper-for-judy/
to see his entire post.
Bake-Off
“Spot on!” she said and doffed her hat and focused on her goal.
The loss of her attention was sure to take its toll
at this phase of her endeavor, so, intent upon her role,
she broke another egg into the center of the bowl
where the flour and the sugar had formed a sort of hole,
whipped it until frothy and then began to roll
wet and dry together to form a small atoll,
then folded it all over to form a solid whole.
She took so naturally to baking that the process soothed her soul,
and the brilliance of her artistry, the whole world did extoll.
If her genius were a recipe, yeast would have been its soul.
Prompt words today are loss, spot, naturally, phase and focus.
All of Ben Dykstra!!!
When Dwight Roth of Rothpoetry commented on this old post it caused me to read it again and I laughed so hard that I had to reblog it again. Who can’t use a good laugh? Thanks, Dwight, for bringing it to mind again. (Be sure to read the part about the church bulletin snafus…the part about dad is just an intro to it.)
Every region has its own vernacular and sometimes we are not aware of how familiar terms of our childhood might be to others. My dad was a farmer/rancher in South Dakota where a low-lying field or land near a river was called a “bottom.” My dad loved a good joke, but not so much when it was on him; thus, while we laughed until we were ill, he never cracked a smile as he read the following news in The Murdo Coyote, our local small-town newspaper: “The men are busy this week moving dirt on Ben Dykstra’s bottom.”
One local wit was heard to observe that his bottom must be a sizeable one to afford that amount of activity for that length of time.
Another small town diversion, other than the local newspaper, was the church bulletin. Typed and mimeographed by a volunteer before the age of the…
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Put the cloves individually into the roller
Here are the Fibbing Friday questions for this week:
1. What is rolling stock? Cattle after they’ve been loaded onto train cars and the train is in motion.
2. What is a rolling deck ? A convenient place for rolling doobies on your lap during a poker game.
3. What is role play ? When actors mess around instead of learning their lines.
4. What is ‘on a roll? Caraway or sesame seeds, unless it’s a cinnamon roll, in which case it would be frosting.
5. What does a rolling stone gather? Carsick groupies.
6. What is a rolling boil? Whole crab served on a train.
7. What is a rolling pin? A really bad bowling score.
8. What is a steam roller? A passé method of curling one’s hair.
9. What is a roller coaster? A round disk meant to be placed under your drink that has been positioned vertically rather than horizontally.
10. What is a roller skate? A beached fish.
For Fandango’s Flashback Friday we are asked to reblog a post we made exactly a year ago. Oddly, enough, I found that I’ve written three different poems on this date for the past three years and they are all named “Talking Turkey!” This is the one I wrote exactly one year ago today on November 26.
Talking Turkey
I’d rather be footloose, I’d rather be free.
No more will I languish on any man’s knee.
I’ll eat all of my gravy and none of my peas,
get up and retire whenever I please.
I’ll retrieve no one’s underwear off of the floor.
When I use the potty, I won’t shut the door.
I won’t cover my mouth when I burp or I sneeze.
I’ll open the window to enjoy the breeze
or shut my house up as tight as a drum,
eat all the cookies to the last crumb.
I’ll dine for a month on my Turkey Day turkey.
I’ll be selfish and weird and eccentric and quirky.
For as much as I love human interactions,
living alone has its own satisfactions.
Prompt words today are: human, gravy, retrieve and footloose.
Prediction
In the family photo, Auntie stands with arms akimbo,
glancing over sideways at my cousin’s latest bimbo.
One cultured eyebrow raised and her disgust so thinly veiled,
there’d probably be a small explosion if only she exhaled.
Uncle’s blind to everything and stands with grin on face,
unmindful of his youngest son’s ultimate disgrace.
He has had a little turkey and a great amount of wine
and thinks his son’s new girlfriend is exceptionally fine.
My cousin looks besotted and the girl looks fine to me,
though she wears a lot of makeup and shows a lot of knee.
But if my cousin marries her, I’m sure it will be fine.
With Auntie as her drill sergeant, she’ll soon fall into line.
She’ll polish and distill her ’til the flavor is all gone,
bleed out all her color ’til she’s fashionably wan.
Then, just like Uncle Marty, Cousin Jeb will start to stray,
looking for fresh pastures when the old one turns to hay.
Prompts today are akimbo, everything, culture, veiled and uncle. Disclaimer: the real lady attached to these legs and shoes is anything but a bimbo–a smart, cool lady. Photo is for illustration purposes only.
I am fascinated by the remarkable variety and beauty of insects. Here are a few of the more unusual ones that have visited my garden. Please click on photos to see larger views.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 