I thought as another new year starts I would repost this entry I made 6 years ago. Hope you have a Happy 2018… I intend to.
I never make New Years Resolutions. 1 ~ Because if you want to do something… do it. I think resolutions are a crutch to procrastinate and make yourself feel better… and you will never keep them. 2 ~ Because I never kept them. So this year, my New Year’s Resolution is to reopen TedBook and write something in it. I feel better already.
My friend Margie told me, “only 8% were ever kept”. I read that if you put it in writing, it may actually have a chance of happening. Okay, it’s in writing now… it’s all up to me… I want to be in that 8%! Yesterday I looked to see when the last entry in TedBook occurred… yikes! January 2, 2011… one whole year of silence! Another friend, Keri, reminded me of that this morning, after I mentioned I might start blogging again.
Why the silence? No…
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SAILING… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings…
“Hi, Cheryl. Want to go sailing?”
“Are you crazy! You know I get seasick, Ethel. Who did you snooker into taking you out on the lake?”
“Not sailing sailing, silly, garage sailing.”
“What the hell is ‘garage sailing’?
“It’s when you go to garage sales looking for cool stuff.”
“Oh, right. Remember your antique-vase-phase? The last thing I want to do is follow you around while you search through other people’s worthless crap looking for something you can’t do without.”
“Well, I thought it would be fun. Hey, remember the vase I got you?”
“Okay, I did need that one.”
⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️
Oh for God’s sake, Ethel!… a drabble for Fri Fic
A telephone rings…
“No??? I haven’t said anything yet, Cheryl!”
“I know exactly what you’re going to say today, Ethel. And, it’s a hairbrained idea.”
“Okay, Miss Marple, what?”
“You’ve been obsessed with American Ninja Warrior and your favorite is Meagan Martin, a rock climber. Right so far?”
“I thought so! REI just opened a new climbing wall and you want to do it.”
“I think it would be fun.”
” I think it would be crazy, and I don’t need to take you to the emergency room again. Ask Betty to go, she likes the Red Wings, now that’s crazy.”
Meagan… not Ethel REI in Seattle
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Photo Prompt by CEAyr for Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other writers to see what they did with this image.
Thought I’d bring this back for St. Pat’s Day this Friday…
Quill Shiv has a new Haiku writing prompt… A photo of Saint Patrick.
Corned Beef and Cabbage Tacos… In 1986, back in my Restaurant Days, I went to work for Jerry Franco. Jerry was a bit of a culinary impresario on the Sacramento restaurant scene. He had just reopened The Town House on 21st Street, down the block from The Sacramento Bee newspaper. The Town House had been a Mexican Food tradition, and had been sitting empty for a few years after the owner retired. Franco had opened in a blaze…
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A JUKEBOX AT EVERY TABLE… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings on the Northside of Chicago…
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s Ethel.”
“It’s December 21st, I assume you want me to help you with your Christmas decorations again. Why can’t you do them early like everybody else? I’ve still got shopping to do.”
“No, no, I’m done with them. I’ve got a hankering for a chili dog, and there’s a new place in Cicero I want to try.”
“For God’s sake, Ethel, just go to the Devil Dog on the corner. You know how far Cicero is, right?”
“Yes, but this place has a jukebox at every table. And, there’s a WalMart next door.”
“Oh… okay, I’ll go.”
Roger Bultot’s photo reminded me of fun times and good eats in the past and prompted the girls to take a trip. Thanks to Rochelle for prompting me to write a story.
While looking for one of my old stories, I came across this one, which I always liked. I thought I’d bring it back for another reading.
Last Chanceby Max Welton
It is hard going, but the demolition is scheduled for tomorrow. The brush that started at your ankles now reaches chest height, the fence is in sight. Past bulldozers, poised like fierce beasts to devour the hapless sanitarium, you enter the north wing and hunt for room #36. An excited sadness overwhelms you as you search her room for what was hidden within the wall. After the accident her decline had been swift. Seventeen years since you learned the truth about Daisy, it’s now or never. An unseen hand guides you to a loose wallpaper patch, glittering Art Deco reveals itself. Her bracelets are safe once again.
✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼
FROM THE DESK OF MAX WELTON
So, that’s it! The start to my first novel. …
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SCREAM… In an Imaginary Garden
On the Northside of Chicago, a telephone rings…
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s me Ethel, have you decided!”
“What do you mean which? I’m the only one you know.”
“Haha, decided what?”
“I told you, I don’t do Halloween, and I’m not coming over to help you hand out candy to brats.”
“Okay, I’ll wear a scream mask.”
“Because you love the movie?”
“Because you make me want to scream.”
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Ethel and Cheryl decided to take part in the costume party at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads today. Mama Zen wants us to write about our Halloween costume in 65 words or less at toads. My friend Björn Rudberg wrote an interesting poem today and introduced me to Mama Zen.
CHEF BO…a drabble for FriFic
On the Northside of Chicago, a telephone rings…
“Hi Cheryl, it’s me, Ethel.”
“One word, Cheryl, Chef Bo.”
“That’s two words. What’s Chef Bo?”
“A new Chinese restaurant on Irving! We have to go.”
“You know I don’t like Chinese, Ethel.”
“Well, you like Birds Nest Soup, Cheryl. And I’ll bet they have barbecued pork.”
“Liked, I found out how they make it, disgusting. I like the pork and I guess fried rice is okay. What’s with the Chef Bo obsession?”
“I have a coupon.”
“Of course you do, Ethel! If you had one to Hell we’d be crossing the river Styx. Okay, but you’re buying.”
🀀 🀤 🀃 🀢 🀊 🀥 🀏 🀦 🀐 🀣 🀪
I haven’t written much in TedBook lately… Lazy, Busy, Writer’s Block… take your pick.
This story was back in 2012 to a great photo prompt by wmqcolby. While Rochelle at FridayFictioneers is taking a break to write a book, she’s rerunning some of the best prompts from the past. I always liked Thieves in the Night.
They broke the window and slipped in the back door.
“Darker than a son of a bitch! Can’t see a God Damn thing.”
“Shhh… don’t talk like that in here. Take my phone.”
By the light of the silvery cell, they made their way forward.
“Kind of spooky, all these eyes watching us. They said the cross with the man was solid gold, I sure hope so.”
“Shut the fuck up, and follow me.”
Sudden bright lights through stained glass turn the apse into a kaleidoscope.
The Man on the Cross is shimmering to the sound of sirens.
Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction… This week’s photo prompt is by Chairwoman Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields… go to… ADDICTED TO PURPLE … for info.