Truth or Dare? (100-Word Challenge)

I thought about her as I was stirring awake today, a modern-day flower child. I have no idea why, but this part of the story is pure.

Only regarding her at length once before, she bebopped up next to me as I walked. Her hair held fresh blooms.

“Tell me a story.”

My mind was utterly paralyzed. 

“Story?”

“Yes.”

The first words that came to my mind were these.

“Truth or dare?”

“Anything.”

At first my weave was frantic, unsure. But softly I settled into a surprisingly elaborate web.

“Is this true?”

“I’m not sure. Does it sound real?”

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This was written for Tara's 100-Word Challenge over at Thin Spiral Notebook. The word was "Speak" to be used in any form or inferred. 

Because He Would Do It: Yeah Write Micro-Story

Blurred movements kept jerking my gaze to the balustrades above though no one else was home.

“What is it?”

“I think it’s Andrew.”

Desperate to believe, she hugged me tighter than I’ve ever been held because he was the kind of kid who knew exactly how to comfort her.

100-Word Challenge: Diaries, To Keep or Not to Keep?

Journaling fills me with tremendous trepidation. I have five journals started in nooks and crannies. When I was young, my locked diary was cream-colored. My kids found it covered in socks, promptly picked, then giggled at mommy’s middle school yearnings. Sometimes I rant and vent and write about fictitious events. Other times, secrets.

Might be from a Reese Witherspoon movie, but I imagine being in the bathtub, eyes closed, sunk up to my chin in bubbles, when someone comes in waving my journal. I feel panic, helplessness and violation simultaneously. 

It hasn’t happened. Yet. It’s all too vulnerable though.

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In which we write 100 words using the prompt "Diary" thanks to Tara at Thin Spiral Notebook. I started two other entries, but, of course, they were too vulnerable ;-).

Tell Me How to Feel and I Will: 100 Word Challenge

I’m lost, biding

the switch flip telling 

me to feel

Recognizable like my 

lips brushing yours 

breathing down my

neck hair raising, like 

salty rivulets as

your sweat dripping

between my breast

Or tempered glass 

withholding desiring

peering

to see more

clearly more you more

everything

un-everything

Pulled hair

bitten lips filthy

dirt under our nails

And secrets buried

deep dark eyes

for whose or

those who were keen

or know

Shhhhhhhh

They're 

tricks or truths

map me

a forest for my

teeth to chew

them

echoing rushes, you

feel my pulse.

What are the contents 

of another’s words?

********************************

In cleaning out the content's of my phone's notepad, I found a few poems I wrote many moons ago. This one seemed an all right fit, despite the need to edit out fifty words, for Thin Spiral Notebook's 100-word prompt. The word is "telling" to be used or implied.

Give it a whirl. It is a blast!

The Best Place on Earth: 100-Word Challenge

Bora Bora

This particular game goes, “If money were no object, where would you go?” It’s pipe dreams, that’s all.

A stilted hut on Bora Bora. An apartment in Florence. Diving the Great Barrier Reef. Sensation overload in Marrakesh. Sailing the Greek Islands. Patagonia!

On our well worn couch with a fire freshly stoked, I feel his breath on my neck as he whispers. Desiring.

I wear him like his softest tee shirt. Safe, cozy, loved. It can’t be bottled. No amount of money in the world can buy it. 

This home. This peace. This feeling.

We’re the best place on earth.

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Squeezing in a 100-word challenge right under the wire! Check out the writers at Thin Spiral Notebook where this week's word is "Money". I firmly believe I have to practice often for writing to come naturally again. I'm trying!

It's Monday! What Are YOU Reading?: Halloween!

Hosted by The Book Date

[Blogger’s Note: This should probably be, “It’s Autumn! What Are You Reading?”; it’s been so long since I have set down a I am reading post. I’ll play along like I am supposed to then add some additional books I’ve read at the end just in case you make it that far! If you wanted further detail, I am writing this while making my world famous hot wings for a Bears tailgate tonight. Terrifying, I know. Not because it’s Halloween or has anything to do with the wings. It has everything to do with how horrible the Bears are this season (and all seasons where J. Cutler is involved). What can I say? Chicago sports fans tend to be long suffering. And I wouldn’t be going if certain family members weren’t requiring it!]

What did I read last week?

Commonwealth by Ann Patchett. While it was good as Patchett perennially is, nothing she writes with compare with Bel Canto, for me. Still. It is a worth reading family drama.

Little Birds- Erotica by Anais Nin. I am still fanning myself. This is by far the hottest stuff I have ever laid hands on (in book form. Sorry, had to be sassy.)! This book left me sassy and feeling and a whole lot of other things you’ll only know if you pick up this book or have already read it. If someone writes sex better than Nin, will you please tell me? Uh, now!

Levels of Life by Julian Barnes. A few years ago, I told you The Sense of an Ending was one of my favorite all-time books. I loved it. This one is just so different from that one. I am not sure it is telling a story, or a cohesive one. It is short, has a poetic vibe, and  the writing is lovely as is Barnes’ style. It is worth a look!

What am I currently reading?

Upstream: Essays by Mary Oliver. I first fell in love with her and didn’t even know it during a Millenium Park yoga gathering several years back. The instructor began the class with a meditation on our backs in Savasana. My eyes, which are normally closed, remained open as she recited “Wild Geese” two times through. First slowly, then at a more quick clip. She ended the same way reciting two times. I felt it burn into my soul and ran home to look it up. I didn’t know the name of the poem right then. I used the phrases I could remember. “Wild Geese”. It is in a collections titled Dream Work. Subsquent to that moment, I have read four collections by Oliver. Each one a delicacy that made my heart sing for joy. This is her first work in essay form (methinks). I can’t wait for more time hunkering down with her.

Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith. Is Highsmith generally an underrated mystery writer? Maybe I only found her because I finally read The Talented Mr. Ripley this year. And if that one gave you the willys, this one will do the same and then some. I am about halfway into the audiobook version, and it is reminding me that there is nothing like a good, suspenseful, subtle stalker tale! Highsmith rules the creepy stuff!

What am I planning to read next?

The Lesser Bohemians by Eimear McBride, and/or The Nix by Nathan Hill. By the way, both of these have awesome cover art! I have The Sellout by Paul Beatty, also the recent Man Booker award winner, downloaded and queued up for when I finish Strangers. 

Other great books I read this fall are:

The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead: Beyond outstanding.

Nutshell by Ian McEwan: A fresh and unique writing perspective. Typical McEwan = beautifully written.

The Nest by Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney: It was a good, not great, story about a dysfunctional family and inheritance.

The Girl With the Lower Back Tattoo by Amy Schumer: This was a fantastic book. Poignant, funny, sassy. As only Schumer can be.

Lafayette in the Somewhat United States by Sarah Vowell: There is no one out there like her. No one compares. I’ve never learned so much U.S. history while enjoying myself as reading her books (this was my third). Ever!

Ripley Under Ground by Patricia Highsmith: Because I just had to know what happened next. And next. And next.

Happy reading! I better not nibble on any more wings otherwise I will severely disappoint those counting on me!

[After sufficient sampling, I can attest they came out as fabulous and tasty as ever. YUM!]

Hey, Hey! Holy Mackerel!!" (Stream of Consciousness Chicago Style)

I live in this city. Chicago, that is. Home to the often frustrated sports fan. It is pure insanity right now. Not sure we have seen the likes of this since…certainly not when the Bears went to the Super Bowl even.  Or The Rolling Stones came to Soldier Field.

This stuff is right here! At least for the next three games. The Ferris wheel has the Cubs logo in its center. The majority of the people seen walking around have on some sort of Cubs gear. There is a vibrancy I have yet to see since maybe the Presidential rally for Obama or maybe ever. Lollapalooza doesn’t hold a candle to this enthusiasm. Out-of-town fans fill every street corner. Traffic is almost at a standstill. 

I live about three blocks from the iconic and original Billy Goat Tavern on Lower Michigan, which is part of the old, drippy, underbelly of Chicago that always looks like nighttime, but the burgers are good. The place was famous before the Blues Brothers stopped in. Fans were taking pictures just now out front. 

I ran an errand past Harry Caray’s old Italian steak joint. Again, people taking pictures of the restaurant’s sign and a Clydesdale horse hanging out on the sidewalk. What does a Clydesdale and the Cubs have in common? Beats me!

I have been a life-long Cubs fan. Those of you who know how old I am can attest to it being a long time. 

When I was growing up, our parents, who did not have a lot of discretionary income, took me and my little brother to one game a season. We seemed to have the same seats along the third base line just behind the Cub’s dugout. We would get there early (more bang for our buck, I’m guessing) to watch batting practice, warmups and, with any luck, inch our way up to the railing to get some autographs on our score sheets we faithfully kept all game (Dad was a stickler for accuracy!). We binged on hot dogs, ice cream and peanuts. And so it went every year.

I lucked out in college by living in the same house as the daughter of one of the team’s VPs. We would travel up from Normal, Illinois at the beginning of April to watch Opening Day at Wrigley under usually freezing and wet conditions. Beer solved that problem.

Last year, we went to five or six games. This year, we had tickets for twelve. It has been a good year for all of us who have been waiting.

It’s a crazy day that will only get crazier. Tomorrow will be worse, better, worse. Every errand has taken me longer, but every person I have encountered is in a festive mood. How awesome is that? 

And that’s just down here. Up north about 2.5 miles, the neighborhood called Wrigleyville will be an entirely different story. It will be truly insane.

Our guys just need to bring their bats tonight.

Holy Cow!

The Days of Wine and Roses

There’re songs and poems about stories like ours with a beginning and middle. An end. 

Glasses of wine, friendly chats, exchanges of books and photographs. 

Fresh.

Dark chocolate, writing and Dickinson, you too? 

Familiar.

Uninhibited over-sharing and blurred lines.

Finale.

What starts off luxuriously slow, simple and simply takes its sweet time turning sad. Then there’s the mess four blind eyes neglect.

Our friendship had a number attached from the first, “I’d like to get to know you from whatever distance you’ll allow.”

We came to know too much. 

Didn’t we, honey?

Things end and tears escape. 

Doors close.

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Over at Thin Spiral Notebook, we were given the word "Wine" and 100 words to use it in our creative writing. Thanks for providing an outlet for us, Tara. If you like wine half as much as I love it, please join in the fun! 

I love this poem. 

And the song's lyrics.

(I need to write more, or get out more, or more something.)

It's Monday! What Are You Reading (iPhone Addition)

After digging through every travel bag, it is safe to conclude that I came home with my laptop but not its power cord, and it is dead as a door nail (the laptop)! So here we are, well here I am, using two thumbs to answer these important Monday questions.

What have I recently finished?

Abso-freaking-nothing. Sometimes I even disappoint myself. All I can say is I guess there are times when being with actual people takes precedence over fictional ones.

What am I currently reading?

Same as last week with the exception of listening to Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor. Hazel Motes is a creep! Enjoying this outstanding example of dialog.

What will I read next?

My hands are full for the next week! Need to crank out what I have in front of me, but I will never stop dreaming about the next book.

Hosted by The Book Date.

100 Word Challenge: Who Can Trust A Person Like That?

For seven years running, Eleanor proudly received the award for “Most Nonjudgmental” at the Miller’s Merry Manor annual banquet. “Honey, do you!”, had been her motto since she secretly eloped at twenty-one.

In 85 years, Eleanor’s gut had never failed her. So when it rumbled the day Sadie moved in, she was on high alert though it wouldn’t be until the day in the grocery store parking lot that she figured it out. Sadie didn’t return her cart, and who can trust someone with manners like that? Never mind she cheats at BINGO and makes eyes at her Henry.

*********************

The prompt this week at Thin Spiral Notebook is "manners". Use it to inspire a 100-word something. This piece is un-fiction. The circumstances and names have been changed to protect the innocent! I'm watching you.

Bloggers, Do You Do This Too?

On more than a few occasions especially when I have been writing and posting, I check the blog stats for the newly written post. What I find most interesting is where the trail leads after that. To which older posts.

I love this part of blogging because I am forever curious and intensely interested in people’s behavior and topics they read most often and trying to understand why. What elements of or about certain posts makes them more highly and routinely visited?

For instance, I write quite often about the books I am reading. Those interested in that kind of thing, books, check out several of the “It’s Monday! What Are You Reading?” entries. Others follow a chronological path. They may read everything from the entire month of November, 2013. I get "rabbit holes".

The next most fun thing to do is go back and read some of the older posts that are generating activity for some reason. I have written almost 600 posts. I don’t remember them all. Some don’t even ring a bell. Some I know like the back of my hand. Fun stuff.

I did this right now. Read some of the old posts visitors visited today. Can’t believe I wrote some of the things I did.

But the very, very tippy top thing that keeps me coming back for more is reading the comments left on old posts. On any post, really. Thank you to all who have visited and commented. Ever. I love what you've said to me. I love that you have taken the time. You make this blogging thing the bomb!

100 Word Challenge: Two Years Past A Quarter Century

Halfway back I answered, “Pick the best one, choose for love, then cross your fingers.” I meant it.

No one has a pellucid view at the altar all stargazed eyes, flushed cheeks, and Ode to Joy belting from organ pipes. You are, in many ways, the purest version of yourself. And them to you.

Not until you’ve watered the lawn and tended the weeds. Grown beautiful things. Glimpsed the amplified worst and best possible versions is the true veil lifted. (Because we all change, don’t we?) 

At some point if you’re lucky, your breathing relaxes, and you uncross them.

[Sigh]

************************************

This week, Tara at Thin Spiral Notebook gave us the word "change" as our writing prompt. I wrote about an anniversary one other time HERE.

100 Word Challenge: Unlisted Numbers

There’s nothing peculiar or untoward about it. She moved to the city for anonymity, and “the world is your oyster” youthful excitement.

She singsong delivers a carbon-copy greeting to her doorman each day,

“Good morning, Benjamin! How are you today?”

Breezing out the front door, the blue-gray sky and high-rises feel like donning a gauze veil.

[Ding]

“I can see your building from my balcony.”

The phone number is unrecognizable sending her summer skin shivering, her senses to full alert, and sprinting back to her place to grab protection. She has an inkling. Better safe than sorry.

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The word is Peculiar.

So thrilled Tara from Thin Spiral Notebook took over the reins of 100 Word Challenge. A little rusty in the creative writing department, but my goal is to push through the discomfort and begin again!

About Those New Year Revolutions*

I have started and stopped this first post four or five times in the last two days trying to decide what I wanted to say and share, and in which direction I wanted to go, serious or light. 

I was recently reminded of a quote from Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston:

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”

What if last year did neither? 

A year without fluidity, or so it seemed.

I got no closer, but no farther away either. 

From what?

Here are some tasty, if general, morsels from my year:

2015 saw the bearing of emotional weight unlike any other that I can remember. Then there were the losses, both physical and otherwise. 

And yet, I traveled far and wide seeing things only one other people I know has ever seen, and frolicked through places everyone else had already been and I always longed to go.

Spent an enormous amount of time with the people I love the most like I was trying to make up for something, but wasted time, in equal measure, with people I didn’t love at all. Though, in all honesty, that was fun, too.

I did so many things right last year, but I made almost the same amount of mistakes. 

I felt to the point of pain. Or pleasure. And I felt intensely human.

So how do I quantify a year like this in a couple hundred words, let alone make it make sense to you? Where to begin? More importantly, where do I go from here?

I’m not longing or looking for fresh starts this year. At least not for me. I am yearning to feel more more intensely. 

In people, in peace, in books, in travel, in thoughts, in writing. 

Just more.

I’ll end this mishmash of words with a story from January 1, 2016 where I set off bottle rockets with close friends in rural Indiana to ring in the New Year:

Too bright and too early on the first day of 2016, we found ourselves completely out of coffee. This is not a good thing when six sets of eyes, who over-imbibed the previous eve, are staring at you in disbelief. 

My house, my run to the grocery store, in my pajamas.

Laying down my Dunkin' Donuts grind on her belt, the far too cheery checkout clerk asked through her, no matter how toothless, yet contagious smile,

“Make any New Year’s revolutions?!?!?!?”

(Yes, that's what she said.)

In my weak attempt to match her enthusiasm, I replied,

“Not yet! You?”

“HA, HA!!! Nope, never do!"

"Maybe I shouldn't either!!! Have a great year!"

"You too, Honey Bunches!"

As I walked out, I couldn’t help but laugh. 

I laughed because of her verve and warmness at such an hour. I laughed because of her mix up. I laughed because maybe she did mean 'revolutions' as words have multiple meanings and contexts.

I will never forget the woman who changed the early morning of January 1, 2016 for the better, so easily and simply. With just a mix up (maybe) and a smile.

May I, likewise, be the one who changes someone else’s day, so easily and simply, for the better, at least one time during this year.

*Revolution

(A simple definition)

noun rev·o·lu·tion \ˌre-və-ˈlü-shən\

: the usually violent attempt by many people to end the rule of one government and start a new one

: a sudden, extreme, or complete change in the way people live, work, etc.

: the action of moving around something in a path that is similar to a circle

Last Day of NaBloPoMo and Other Stuff

I am pretty relieved today is the last day of NaBloPoMo. Did you know I have participated for three years in a row?

The first year I was a grand success writing every day, and sometimes more than that! Writing came so easily. Back then.

The second year, I failed fairly miserably by blogging almost well the first two weeks then a major fallout happened. I got lazy. My writing suffered. It was hard to get the words back.

This year, I was a little better than halfway between the two. Glancing back over this month, I posted twenty-two entries in thirty days. Not bad, right? I do know that the more often I practiced writing, the easier the words flowed.

NaBloPoMo is a great exercise in writing. For me.

I'm sure most of us can admit that much of the time there a “hanging over my head” feeling. Some of us kind of felt like [UGH!!!!!]. Am I alone here? I am comfortable in discomfort and tried not to get  too stressed about missing a few days.

And we got here. To the last day.

Last days of one thing are often the first days of something else. When a door closes, a window opens.

What’s up next for me? 

It is time to get ready for Christmas. 

"Christmas is coming; the goose is getting fat. 

Please put a penny in the old man's hat. 

If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do. 

If you haven't got a ha' penny, then God bless you." 

Do you know this song? My daughter used to sing it when she was in early elementary school.

Florida, we are (hopefully) coming for ya in a few weeks!!!

And not one morsel or rivulet of unhealthy food or beverage will pass these lips for one entire week (possibly two). 

Regarding the last thing, you may be thinking, “All work (or entirely healthy things) and no play makes Gina a dull girl.” You’d probably be correct. I am hoping daily yoga smooths over the rough edges of what will probably lead to an exceedingly grumpy demeanor. Doesn’t this make you want to come live with me?!?!?

Time to wrap this baby up!

Congratulations to all who wrote every day in the month of November. I am so happy to have read your words! You inspired and motivated me to push on!

Clear eyes, 

Full hearts, 

Can’t lose.

“Friday Night Lights”

There's Got to be a Morning After

I knew going into NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) that I would ultimately fail. Knowing this removed the stress. I didn’t post yesterday. Did you notice?

How was my Thanksgiving?

It was lovely. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I’ve hosted it 26 times so I've got it down, which allows me to go into it relaxed and knowing I will have a wonderful day. I made time for the Rockettes as always. I even caught up on my TIVO a little (The Affair and Survivor if you were wondering.)

The word which comes to mind when I think of Thanksgiving is “teamwork”. I do the majority of the cooking, and I do so happily. I have a pretty good sous chef (the son), a really good “Hazel, the maid” (the hubby), a wonderful event day helper/server/bartender (the daughter), and the resident vacuum cleaner (the dog). It does help having grown children. Oh, and let’s not forget the charming guests (the extended family) and their contributions not limited to the food they brought. It also helped the Bears beat the Packers.

It takes a village to pull off a meaningful Thanksgiving. The food is just background noise no matter how much we love stuffing. The most important ingredients are the loving, generous, and kind people. Check.

P.S. The most generous gift I receive every holiday is my morning after “kitchen fairy” (I don’t know why, but I am instantly reminded of “There’s Got to be a Morning After”, The Poseidon Adventure (1972).). We usually don’t have energy to clean the whole kitchen at night mostly because the dishwasher is already brimmed full and running. By the time I wake up, like today, like every holiday, the kitchen is tidy, dishwasher emptied and reloaded, and the counters are sparkling. I love my “kitchen fairy”.

P.P.S. I went looking for the song. Listening gave me chills and visions of Shelley Winters swimming underwater in the stairwell.

Yeah Write Micro-stories: Attrition

opentable.com

To the forwarded reservation confirmation she replied, 

“PENNED IN!!!”.

“Me, too. So excited.”

(Note: Exclamation marks missing from my response.)

The rub? A date is a date. Knowing this, she’ll make me explain why I’ve been avoiding her. That’s a tough one.

Last Night's Weird Dreams

I had two dreams last night that I remember.

Dream 1:

The first was set in a U.S. city, not sure which and didn’t seem like Chicago. I was in a French restaurant (I was recently in France so this makes some sense.), and the proprietress announced to the diners she had a nearby property that would be perfectly suited for another French restaurant and she wanted one of us diners to do it. I raised my hand, “I will.” I promptly left on vacation to who knows where. During my vacation, I decided there was no feasible way for me to take on this project. I didn’t have the knowledge of French cooking, running a restaurant or the funds to do so. Upon my return, I stopped by to inform the proprietress of my decision, and she eagerly grabbed my arm, lead me a few doors down, and presented me with the property that she had renovated while I was away. It was almost finished, bright yellow, and very cute yellow and red curtains. “I suppose I could give it a try.” There were other people touring “my” restaurant at the time and a turned to a young woman asking, “Can you cook French food?” She said, “Of course!” “You’re hired!!!” I went outside to the front sidewalk where there was a chalkboard. I started filling in daily specials in French (I was just in France; I know a little French.) and, right then and there, wrote down the name of my new restaurant!

French, The Restaurant

(Dreamers note: A bit of information I discovered in France was that they are not very creative in their naming of buildings. They name it the exact words as the service it will provide. Not very clever at all. Hence the name of my new restaurant.)

Dream 2:

Someone has passed away, someone I know very well. Everyone I know is grief stricken. I am left alone in a room with someone with whom I am very angry. In a whisper hiss voice, I proceed to unload on this person ripping them for their selfish and inconsiderate behavior for how they treated someone else extremely important to me. This person knows where my allegiance stands. I was completely eloquent and thorough. Everything I said made perfect sense, in perfectly chosen words. And all of it was perfectly true. I woke up.

(Dreamer’s note: DELETED (by dreamer)) 

WWW.Wednesday: What Are You Reading?

What are you reading?

WWW.Wednesday  is no longer a meme. And even though it’s been ages since I have blogged about reading, Wednesdays, in my mind, always pose the question…

What are you reading?

So nice of you to ask! I have so many books half-started. I should qualify this by telling you what I am actively reading. The Grownup by Gillian Flynn (who doesn’t know her?) and Slade House by David Mitchell. So I’m a little late to the Halloween party reading these horror-esque type novels. So what?

What have you recently finished?

Excommunicados by Charles Haverty. I have no idea how this book showed up on my doorstep. Truly. But thankfully it did, accompanied by another book whose title eludes me. Excommunicados is a short story collection published by University of Iowa Press. When I think of University of Iowa, I think of the prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop. Guess what? This book is outstanding. The stories are unique and compelling. The characters are flawed, big time, and struggle with life (who doesn't?) and what it all mean. I love that! Felt to me like stories written by Tom Barbash (one of my favorites) and Charles Baxter. I am a complete fan of the short story genre. Even if you are not, this might be one to change your mind. I highly recommend it.

What will you read next?

Oh, I don’t know. At some point, I need to give a giant tome called A Little Life a whirl. How about I tell you next week…

So what are you reading and recommending these days?

Sweet Baby Ray: NaBloPoMo Day 3

amazon.com

I am a quote lover and one that routinely comes into my mind has been attributed to Maya Angelou:

“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.”

Who hasn’t had any of these happen? Has anyone had a double up like me (lost luggage in the rain)?

For years, 26 of 'em, we’ve had a Christmas decorating routine. Hubby sets up the tree with my help. He puts on the lights because it’s prickly, and he does such a fabulous job hiding the wires. I hang the ornaments. In theory, it is a good plan.

Countless times when the kids were little, we would decorate the tree the day following hubby’s setup. Every time it seemed to me the branches needed the tiniest bit of tidying up before hanging the ornaments. Invariably, I’d get distracted and cut a wire shorting the whole tree. Darn it anyway!

Year after year, this would happen.

Year after year, hubby would go to OSCO for more lights to restring. (The following year he'd remind me not to trim. Do I listen?)

I truly applaud his patience and mild temperament because I probably would have expressed my frustration far less calmly. Just a helpful hint, hide behind a kid if this happens to you!

I’ve seen a multitude of veins almost bursting over lost luggage.

Carrying an umbrella is a must if you live in Chicago in the Springtime. Or Summer, and sometimes Winter.

If I may, I would like to add to Maya’s list. The accidental coverage in Sweet Baby Ray’s. Yes, this indeed happened to me on Sunday while tailgating before a football game at Soldier Field (Yes, the Bears STINK!!!).

I heard the gasp before reality sunk in. My shoes, socks and, fresh out of the dryer clean jeans were completely sauced in wet goo. It's a documented fact I hate to do laundry. 

The guy, who dropped the Costco sized container, felt horrible. I had to stop him from mopping off my pants.

All I could think to say was, 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. My dog will love me when I get home.”

As a bonus, I did score grilled shrimp, a beer, and a cupcake later.

Some things simply aren’t worth making a fuss over.