Twilight Zone: Walking Distance

Memories of one’s younger life and the adventures seem to blend into a massive joyful past.  Oh, how one longs for those days, thinking how marvelous it would be to be back in our own town for just one day. 

Think about the endless bike rides…Mom’s meatloaf…Velveeta cheese…the emergence of Kool-Aid and Sunbeam bread…

The successful stage play “Our Town” allows us to see what that day would be and how one’s memories are often mixed and convoluted into something very different.

Twilight Zone…does that stir any memories in those of the 1960s?  This is one that clings to the theme which winds through the mind.

 Here is the beginning of Martin/Gig Young's thought in "Walking Distance":

What happens next?  After he makes that turn?

Watch the next few minutes, and see how it all works out.

Can anyone go home again?

Wednesday Words: At Jo-Ann's Fabric and Crafts

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Cindy hurried to Jo-Ann’s for the early opening sale.  When Jo-Ann’s had a sale and coupons were in hand, nothing could hold Cindy back.

Racing past faux limestone gargoyles and foam pumpkins, Cindy began her trek through this super store.  Gotta find Halloween fabric!  Sixty-percent off with an extra 10% with coupon….

Source: provided by Jo-Ann's

Cindy grabbed bolts of felt and black-spider-with-glowing-ghost fabric.  Everything was going well, so uneventful.  I’ll be home in time….

That was when a spasm hit her left calf, the largest cramp ever.  Cindy tried not to scream.  But some things cannot be squelched.

The underlined words are a gift from Delores @Under the Porch Light .  Please visit her site and see what others have created.  Some great stuff!

Note:  Jo-Ann's store is nationwide.  You will need a GPS locator to navigate a super store.

Samuel and the Test...Part 3

For those who do not about part 1 and 2, here are the links:
Samuel, part 1  and Samuel, part 2

Source: Great projects for kids

Nana smiled as she looked in the rear view mirror.  A multi-colored Samuel was asleep in his car seat.

When complete silence had been all that was heard, Dr. Anna and Nana had nodded and the observers approached the room where three-and-a-half year old Samuel had been so busy, laughing, giggling, and creating.

Nana opened the door slowly, entering a transformed room.  In the middle of the room beneath the table, Samuel had curled up to sleep, holding pristine shoes in his arms.

But, the room, oh the room. 

The floor was a swirl of color that curled around the room, around and around. 

How did he…must have used his feet to scoot…No, it’s smoother than…What the… He used the cardboard…Slip n’ Slide!  My son loves that…

Source: Dreamstime

In the corner were the discarded and used up materials.  Gallons of white glue had been liberally streamed around the floor, followed by squirt bottles of expensive acrylic paint.  

Torn box lids lay around the room, showing that Samuel had surfed, scooted, slid, twirled around the room many times.  A trail of all colors remained behind him as he laughed gleefully.  

Then Dr. Anna pointed to the walls where colors poured down the wall with little boy hand prints creating waves upon waves. Oh, the hues in those waves.

Not Samuel's work, but check at this source.

Nana tiptoed around the paint to the wall beneath the observation mirror.  Discarded markers lay in pyramid heaps.  Her heart caught in her throat and tears glistened in her eyes.

Estate Sale

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Handwritten neon-green signs led Sarah down streets to the estate sale.  Let’s see—mid-1980s, neatly kept desert lawns…retirees who have moved from the busy life to the business of staying alive.

The sign and number of cars indicated that this house was the estate sale.  Sarah prepared herself for venturing into someone else’s house, someone who either no longer lived, or at least, not here.

Walking through the door told her everything, almost.  Blue and mauve was a sure sign of the late 80s.  Furniture was well worn, especially the big recliner.  The man’s recliner…Sarah thought.  He was the last to leave.

The high ceilings and fans over the dining room and the dining furniture showed the couple had been well off; no Jerome’s or MOR furniture here.  Oak, real oak—and Lenox china ware, a complete set?  Waterford lead crystal? Ireland?

Sarah passed through the kitchen with its separate dining table, a mid-century set.  Now that’s worth some money, she thought as she ran fingers along the maple.  The then much younger couple must have loved this during the 1960s.

The bedroom was a bigger story about the couple’s lives together.  Travel.  Native American artwork.  Framed movie posters lined the walls. MASH.  Hmm, they loved MASH.

Sarah began crying in the bathroom.  Hair rollers in a plastic bag, shower cap, and rows of nail polish lined the counter.  She picked up a purple vinyl purse and promised herself she would use it.

Then the man’s attached office told of his fascination—no, obsession with Star Trek and X-Files.  Rows of video tapes, graphic novels (comic books), and collectibles lay casually on shelves.  How long had he been amassing this stuff?

The other two bedrooms had been her rooms.  Loved dolls, giraffes, Hallmark special Christmas ornaments.  His room was all Sci-Fi and her rooms were filled with a soft love.

The garage was the final stop.  It told the final chapter.  Sarah’s eyes watered as she held rusted hammer and tools, beheld the walker and raised bathroom seat, and saw “50 cents” attached to one golf club.  It was too much to bear.

She paid for the purse, 25% off the $5.00, and hurried away from the house. Inside her car, Sarah opened the purse and appreciated its construction.

In one zipped pouch was a scrap of paper.  It read, “Pick up t-bone steak for dinner.”  It was for him.  Sarah found a tissue and wiped her eyes.

Yellow Sky

Source:costiq

Dan watched a mustard yellow sky and listened as sounds of birds silenced.  Rain had been pelting grain fields hard the past few hours with wind sweeping across the farm.

He had always been known for his honesty and degree of readiness in storms like this.  The last time the sky was yellow and the air heavy, Dan recalled how specific he had been about getting the family to safety, telling them what to do when the tornado touched down. 

Back then the funnel had lifted his heaviest truck and ripped the bottom carriage right off, flinging it to the neighboring farm.  Tornadoes flagrantly pass through, shredding a life’s work in a matter of seconds.

Dan watched for Jenny and the kids, praying for them to be safe.  As he headed to the shelter, the old Toyota tore into the drive.  “Now!  Get in now!”

Dan wrapped his arms around Jenny and his children in the shelter as the roaring monster touched down.  “Safe. Safe…” They all prayed.

Source: Photonut

Many thanks to Delores @Under the Porch Light  for her challenging words.  Please please please check her site for other participants in her Wednesday Words.

Tornadoes are horrific terribly destructive monsters of nature.  Many fellow bloggers have been affected by them.  Always pray for those in the path of a tornado.

Vegetables Gone Wild!

Crazy...what....

There are seldom any posts that cry out for posting.  This is one of those.  I don't know what came over me...

After reading several blogs about the abundance/over-abundance of garden vegetables, I decided to honor the world of vegetables.  (I am so envious of those with gardens and vegetables!)

Give the videos/photos a chance.  Granted, the videos have a charm about them, but the photos below...amazing.  

And then there are the...watermelon babies!  What parent would dream up such toddler wear?

Anklets

Watermelons have many uses!

Zen Warrior

Of course, there is the...RUNNING RADISH!

Run Radish! Run!

P. S. As always, the underlined captions beneath the photos are for you to check out the original sites!!   

Miracle Seafood Sauce

Sue’s Miracle Seafood Sauce

Step one:  Go to the drawer in which you have thrown/kept the pre-packaged condiments that one gets from fast-food restaurants. 

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Step two: Retrieve all the ketchups you have in there.  It should be about 50 or maybe more.

Step three:  Take out the hot sauces gotten at Del Taco, Taco Bell, or any other Mexican food franchise.

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Step four:  Go the refrigerator where you have a collection of Arby’s Horsey Sauce.  You will need about 50 or so.  

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(If you do not have any of these, scrounge around in the fridge for some horseradish sauce or straight ground horseradish.  It will be in the back of the fridge, and has no expiration date; nothing can survive in a bottle of horseradish.  You probably got it for some recipe and used it only once.)

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Step five:  Cut one end from the packets.  Do not try to tear them open.  They never tear off nicely.  Then squeeze the ketchup, Horsey Sauce, and hot sauce into a small to medium mixing bowl.

Step six:  Mix it all together and taste.  You may need to add some more ketchup; check in another drawer for that.  Also, you may need some Mayo if you did not have Arby’s Horsey sauce.  Check that drawer in the fridge for the Mayo packets. 

There you go.  Get out the shrimp and dig in!

Black Wings Against a Grey Sky

Source: information

Black wings gleam against a grey sky--

Murder of Crows

Beating the air, striking the air

Birds meant to stay in trees,

Perching, watching,

Cawing and shrieking,

Diving in, driving out.

Red feathers, red tail flash--

Only one of a boil of hawks,

Bird meant for the sky--

Gliding and turning,

Sweeping in wide circles.

Black wings flee.

Scree…scree…scree

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P. S.  Next post on Samuel had to be postponed, due to brain refusing to obey.

Source: Delores at Under the Porch Light

Col. Prentice Hall attended the Annual Festival in his town of Liberty every year. 

After being carefully groomed, he shed his flannel shirt and tattered trousers. A freshly pressed tail coat and pin-striped slacks were carefully hung, ready to be donned.  Col. Prentice Hall donned his brushed top hat and retrieved his polished cane, stepping out the door.

Striding as briskly as a man of 92 could manage, Col. Prentice Hall tipped his hat to all whom he encountered.  A grand turn-out. He mused, smiling to different people along the path.  Grand indeed!

“Colonel!  Col. Hall!”  The photographer for the Liberty Weekly News called out.  “A photo, if you please!”

Smiling, Col. Prentice Hall tipped his hat as the photo was taken.  It is rewarding to still be honored on such a day, he mused.

Two teen age girls giggled as the hat was tipped and the photo taken.  “Who is that old geezer?” one whispered.  “Who knows?  He looks like a zombie!” the other murmured.  They ran off, flaunting henna tattoos and low rider jeans. 

Times change.

What to do next?!

Source: TACLUDA

One of the curses of a migraine life is that it must be lived indoors, away from the light, in nearly complete silence.

The only joy of such a life is a focused expression.  Whether it is writing or some other creation, the scope is narrowed and intense.

Think of a funnel.  Pour a liquid in the broad end and forcing it to condense, collapse in order to exit a narrow port.  Kinda sounds like giving birth, which I guess in a sense it is.

Writing is one joy, when I can retrieve the words from a reluctant brain that hurts intensely.  Samuel and Adventures in the Sock Drawer are part of that joy.

For Benjamin

Colors and color combination.  Working with shapes.  Putting them in a pleasing, exciting pattern is the reward. Sewing and quilting is that reward.

For Eli (still in progress)

For Aimee

For Benjamin

Wall hanging for Erin (unfinished when photo was taken)

Obviously, I have had many migraines.

For me

But I have much joy.

P.S.  There are other quilts, but could not locate my photos. Dang.

The McKinley Pack Decides

Pack members' conference is held.

The Alpha Female joins conference.

A king has been chosen.

Samuel and the Test: Part Two

Source: mommyknows.com

Part 1 was  Samuel Takes the Test  at this site 

Samuel hopped off the table and dragged it over by the viewing mirror, followed by the chair placed on top the table. 

What is he doing…Oh, he is establishing contact…Wait…What is he REALLY doing??

Samuel had selected a variety of primary color squirt bottles and placed those on the table.  Climbing onto the chair with squirt bottles in each hand, Samuel thought.  These are on the tables of restaurants but never touched them.  Let us see what these babies can do…

Source

The last thing the observers observed were wild sprays of colors hitting the mirror.  Circles. Arcs. All dripping and running down from the top of the mirror to the bottom in primary, secondary, and tertiary bold colors. Dripping and running until the mirror was obscured.

What kind of paint is that, tempura?….No, we used acrylic this time…WHY?...We got a good deal on it…

The cameras were in clear view and an easy shot.  Samuel aimed easily.

At least he did not see the cameras in the vents…No…How…Dammit!....

Samuel had dumped the crayons on the hard floor and was stomping them to pieces, almost powder.  Cheap things, aren’t they? Must be budget cuts.  Always stick with Crayola is my motto…

He dumped the tubs of thick paste and kneaded the crayon into it, forming a clay, a clay of all colors.  The heat vents were waiting for him, and he covered the clay over the vents, a beautiful paste that melted and hardened.  Lovely.  I must remember this…

What will happen next?  Now that Samuel has eliminated adult observation?  What will he do?

The third and final part of this adventure in the test is scheduled for Friday, September 13.  Is that significant in any way...or is it by accident...I just don't know for sure.

Thoughts during Church

I will be kind…I will smile…were Brenda’s thoughts, as she sat in the family pew, hands folded in her lap, back straight, and eyes focused on Pastor Ben.  No one will know my thoughts.  No one will suspect what I am thinking.

On her left side, her father was ‘amening’ almost in a rhythm, and Brenda had to force her feet from tapping 1…2…3 and hold…1…2…  Her grandmother was waving her hankie in a show of agreement.

Show?  Brenda pondered that word, looking around at other old ladies with their gray hair and dressy hats.  They too were waving their hankies, and some even dabbed at their eyes.

All the other young people were sitting in the back, passing notes, and giggling.  Their heads were bowed, but Brenda knew what they were doing.   The young families were in the middle of the church, with their children.  Brenda could smell the Cheerios and Fruit Loops.

On Brenda’s ride side, her mother sat, quietly folding and unfolding the church bulletin.  Fold...2...3..  Her mother's hands were red and worn; she had to prepare another dinner for the pastor and family.  Every Sunday, it was dinner for someone. 

Her mother smiled at her, and briefly made eye contact.

That was when Brenda knew.  Her mother wanted to blast out of this church just as badly as Brenda. To escape.

What’ll we do?  Mom, what will we do? 

Her mother wrote a note to her father, which read about checking on the roast and get dinner ready for the pastor, and Brenda had to help.   Her father nodded, not breaking rhythm one bit.

Source: saavem

They tore out of the parking lot.  As they drove past their house, Brenda turned to her mother.  Mom?  Mom?

Her mother smiled, lit up a cigarette, and sped up.  “We’re goin’ to Vegas, girl. I am done fixing dinners every single Sunday for every preacher passing through town.”  Then they headed to the West, the whole 1,000 mile trip. 

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Wednesday Words: Jenny

Jenny handed the blueprints to the carpenter.  “Run!  We have two hours!” Then she turned to the expectant faces and knew in an instant that they were clinging to her every word, every command.

“You!  Over there!  Crystallize these!...And you! Make this and pay attention to the fragrance!  Pumpkin and Vanilla, yes, with vanilla beans!”  More commands, running all the time.

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When the timer showed that there were only 10 minutes left, the carpenter wheeled in her design:  a haunted house with lots and lots of shelves!  Perfect.

Jenny’s team began loading the cupcakes, all decorated in different morbid designs.  Jack-o-lanterns, spiders, and ghosts—they all raced to load the cupcakes onto the shelves.

“10—9—8—7—6—5—4—3—2—1  And bakers, stand away from your displays!”

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Jenny shivered in expectation.  Would she win the $10,000?  Would she?!!

Again, thank you to Delores @Under the Porchlight  for provided these challenging words!  Please go to her site to see what other writers have created!

August 31st

It is 93º outside and the time is 10:30 AM.

This is the last day of August.

When life is unbearable in a California roasting oven, a CostCo trip is required.  It is air-conditioned.

The chilled fresh produce room can hold 20 people, easy.  The chilled dairy products room can hold at least 50 people, as long as everyone keeps moving.  

This was there…

And this was there…

There is hope after all. 

Today is Labor Day...

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Today is Labor Day, and I don’t expect bloggers to be out in huge numbers checking their blogs.  You will probably be eating potato salad, grilled stuff, and visiting with family.

This blog is to recognize all the people (or as many who flit through my brain) who will be working like they do all the time.  These people are the backbone of communities.

Farmers and all people who work the earth to supply people food.

Truck drivers and all  who move products from one place to the other.

Doctors, nurses and all people in medical professions

Parents and grandparents and anyone who cares for a child’s needs

Firemen, policemen, EMT professionals:  God bless you!

There are so many other people who dedicate their lives to helping others and who do not take the day off because it is a federal holiday, Labor Day.  I am sure you know more who could be added to this list.  Feel free to honor them as well.

Source: Fudges Bakery in UK

We are blessed to have them.