Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
I know I’ve mentioned this before but I feel it bears repeating. It’s about this little thing called gravity.
Gravity – noun. The force of attraction by which terrestrial bodies tend to fall toward the center of the earth
So what does this mean? It’s really very simple. Things that go up come back down.
For example, shooting off a gun that is aimed toward the sky will release a bullet, propelled by the force of the gun powder. It will eventually slow until there is an infinitesimal pause after which the direction is reversed and the bullet plummets back to earth, picking up speed as it goes.
I don’t know about where you live but here in Reading those that utilize firearms as noisemakers have already begun practicing for New Year’s Eve. Which means it’s beginning to rain bullets. Now I wouldn’t have a problem with this if those pulling the triggers could manage to shoot skyward in such a manner that would ensure the bullets would fall directly back on to them. Yep, I’d have no problem with that. Shooting and having the bullets land helter skelter, perhaps on my head? No, not so much.
Have some sense people! Tell your neighbors to have some sense! Tell perfect strangers to have some sense! I have things to do in the upcoming year and getting shot by a stray bullet fired by an idiot is most definitely not one of them.
Happy New Year! Be safe. Be happy. And be an adventure!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
White and yellow, yellow and white
Mutant flowers, beware they bite
Running through the stems and petals
Wicked poison in leaves it settles
Surround the house, fill the fields
With these deadly posy shields
Love me, love me not
Pick my daisies and you will rot
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Drowning in a sea of my own darkness
The buoy of hope slips from my grasp
I am sinking
Deeper and deeper within
Back beneath the impermeable layers
To where I am unreachable
Looking up from the bottom
Of the smooth-sided well
I wonder how I ever made it out before
The climb –
Light so very high above
To even try
For I know my strength is lacking
And I’ll never make it that far again
Not as I am…
Alone in the silence
© Barbara Huffert 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
"The end comes when we no longer talk with ourselves. It is the end of genuine thinking and the beginning of the final loneliness. The remarkable thing is that the cessation of the inner dialogue marks also the end of our concern with the world around us. It is as if we noted the world and think about it only when we have to report it to ourselves."
- Eric Hoffer
Saturday, December 24, 2011
When I was a very small child, four at most, I learned that I was expected to react in a certain way when opening gifts. No, sorry. I still can’t explain exactly what that entails. All I know was I never seemed to get it right on my own.
As a matter of self-preservation, I began opening my gifts ahead of time in order to attempt to come up with the proper response when viewing them publicly. I would slice the tape, unfold the paper, have a peek and then tape them back up again. Sometimes I got it right, sometimes I didn’t. But trust me, any single one I did correctly was a very good thing.
I credit this for my lack of gift wrapping ability now. Oh sure, I can reassemble with the best of them. But starting from scratch, all on my own, not so much.
Have a great holiday everyone. May your memories of it be a gazillion times happier than mine.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
I’ve never done very well with holidays but this year seems particularly tough.
There’s some stuff going on around me that has me preoccupied. And it’s the first year without my great aunt. It’s really hard to convince myself to feel festive. I think I’ll keep to myself for a bit so I don’t put a damper on anyone else’s spirits.
Merry Christmas all. Sad as I am you’re still in my thoughts. Be safe. And come get an ultra-cute kitty!
Monday, December 19, 2011
I put the flannel sheets on yesterday. I know, amazing, right? I figure it’ll push back the need to turn on the heat a little while longer.
Anyway, I made up the bed and went about my day. A few hours later I wandered upstairs to put away the laundry only to discover lumps in my formerly smooth covers. It seems Kya and Beau like the flannel sheets. They spent the entire day burrowed to the bottom of the bed.
I had to literally go get them when it was time to eat. And then, within the hour they’d both vanished again. When it was time for me to go to bed they were nice and shifted over to make room for me. My toes were instantly warm and toasty!
Remember the cat who came in out of the storm? Her kittens are now 10 weeks old and ready to go home. There are six, five females, one male. Four have various amounts of black and white, two are gray tiger with white. All are extremely sweet and so cute! If you’re interested, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with their foster mom. Just think. You could have a pair of furry bed warmers too!
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
One of the greatest things about writing is that you can work emotions out of your “real” life. In a productive, non-harmful way. A few years ago I tossed my ex, later to discover one of the things he’d stolen from me was my late father’s canoe. Which I then passed on the street one day, on top of someone else’s car. I came damn close to doing something incredibly stupid, turning around and going after it. But I didn’t, mainly because by the time I’d gotten turned around they would have been long gone. Instead, I ended up at home, bitching about it to some writer friends. Who instantly told me to use the anger and write something.
The result was Hot Rush. And yeah, in case you’re wondering, the ex in the story ends up in jail, with his buddies and the heroine gets her canoe back. Mmm, what an adventure she has in the process of doing so!
Rick Jensen is working undercover to bust up the largest drug distribution in the city’s recent history. Everything is going as planned until the hottest redhead he’s ever seen comes storming into the warehouse. Now if only he can stop thinking with his cock long enough to save her luscious ass and convince her that love at first sight really does exist.
Being sentimental has always been Casey Carmichael’s downfall. But this time her impulsiveness lands her right in the middle of a full contingent of heavily armed drug dealers. When one of them tosses her over his shoulder and carries her up to the office the last thing she expects is out of control sex with the undercover cop trying to protect her.
“All right. Where’s my fucking canoe? I want it and I want it now!”
A second before the screaming started, the door banged open to reveal the most furious redhead Rick Jensen had ever seen. And the most weirdly gorgeous in a he-couldn’t-put-his-finger-on-it-and-now-wasn’t-the-time-or-place-to-analyze-it way, too. Who the hell was she and what the hell was she doing, barging in on a full contingent of armed drug dealers in their lair as they were preparing for one of the biggest distributions they’d put together in months?
“Come on, I said now, damn it!” the woman screeched.
And more importantly, how the hell was Rick going to keep her alive long enough to get her out of there without blowing his cover or the operation, which was the culmination of many months of hard work by multiple organizations all coming to a head hopefully that night?
All eyes and most guns turned to the woman. Rick heard the clicks, signifying that they were ready to fire even if she didn’t. He had to draw their attention away from her.
“Hey, darlin’. I thought I told you not to interrupt me when I’m working.” He put himself between her and the array of weaponry, turning to face the room. “It’s cool, boys. She’s mine.”
The spitfire wasn’t having any of it and tried to shove him out of her way. “Yours? Ha! You wish. Look, all I want is what I came for and then I’m outta here.”
“I dunno, homes. It don’t look like it to me,” one of the armed men said, not lowering his gun.
“She’s just pissed. Come on, Lucy. Don’t do me like that. You’re gonna make me look bad in front of my boys.” He grabbed her hair, forced her head back and planted a wet kiss on her startled mouth.
The slap that followed earned a round of boisterous laughter and lewd comments but it also managed to get the men to stow their weapons. “Don’t you ‘Lucy’ me!”
“Feisty bitch,” Rick declared before kissing her harder. “Look lady, I’m trying to keep your sweet ass alive here so work with me, would ya?” he whispered so only she heard.
“She always gets this way when she’s gone without for too long, don’t ya, darlin’?”
Before the woman could respond, the obvious leader asked, “What’d she say about wanting a canoe?”
Rick forced a chuckle, all the while racking his brain for something plausible. “Oh that’s just what she calls my cock.” Not the best answer but hopefully the men would buy it and she’d play along.
“Fuck, like you got something like that,” another joined in.
“Tell ’em, Lucy.”
“What? Are you out of your mind?”
“Only when it comes to you.”
Monday, December 12, 2011
I was out for lunch the other day. An Irish pub with the nummiest stew imaginable. Which had a light, flakey incredible crust on top. Oh yeah, was it delicious.
And then, as I was throwing in the towel, about to burst Tommy, wicked, wicked man that he is, comes over and asks if we saved room for dessert. Apparently one of the other pub employees has started her own bakery and provides them with weekend sweets. This week’s was dark chocolate mint cake. Like there’s a chance in hell I’d turn down a taste of that!
Being stuffed to the gills, the friend I was dining with and I opted to split a piece. Oh. My. God. There are no words to describe how good it was. So good it would be illegal in at least seven states. Probably more. The cake was moist and rich, dark chocolate. And the icing, of which there was a lot, had mint so fresh it cooled your tongue. To say the least, mmm!
Next time, I asking about dessert and probably having it first!
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The first thing I stumbled across made me giggle. See the image to the side. Nuff said, right?
Then there was the man in the Laundromat. He came in, two new looking baskets stacked together, containing a small amount of wet clothes. Nothing heavy, like towels or blankets. Nope, just average clothes. He split the items between two industrial sized dryers and started one. Then he switched his attention back to the baskets, separating them and restacking them with the bottom basket now on top. Remember, identical, new looking baskets. Hmm. Okay, back to the unstarted, fully functional dryer. This I know for certain as I had witnessed it being in use less than ten minutes prior. He yanked all the clothes out, shoved them into the dryer on the opposite side of the one already tumbling, started it, grabbed his baskets and out the door he went. Into the minivan and he was off like a shot. Um. Explain please?
Next we have the girl with the fuchsia hair. Waist-length, dyed, clearly her own, somewhat straggly, bright fuchsia hair. Under which he was wearing a matching bright fuchsia jacket. Which camouflages the hair, making it difficult to see without taking a second glance. I don't get it. Why dye her hair such a noticeable shade and then attempt to conceal it? Wouldn't you wear something contrasting to really show it off? Or, if it's that bad, why not just dye it some other color? Nope, don't understand that one at all either.
And we won't even get into the ticket machine that starts yapping as soon as you get close to it, demanding you feed it money which, once you do, literally makes chomping sounds.
At least no one licked any walls today. But I wasn't at Panera so who knows.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Spice vs. herb. Do you know the difference? Well, there is one!
Herbs are leaves of plants that do not have woody stems. Generally, herbs come from temperate climates and can be used either fresh or dried. Got it?
Okay, now spices. They are obtained from either woody or non-woody plants, are always dried, and are everything other than the leaves. The plants typically originate in hot, tropical climates.
So parsley sprigs are an herb and cinnamon is a spice. But there are some plants, such as coriander, that qualify as both. The leaves, more often called cilantro, are an herb whereas coriander seeds are a spice.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I tasted something new today. A Sprouted Split. What the hell is that, you ask? A new fangled pretzel manufactured right here in good old Reading by the Unique Pretzel Bakery.
Sprouted Splits are made from whole grain that was “sprouted” before turning it into flour. Nope. Not a clue how exactly that works though I’m sure it’s something that could be discerned, should you be that curious.
Why would you want that? Apparently, being sprouted makes the pretzel digest as a vegetable instead of carbohydrates as in pretzels made from traditional flour. Hmm. So now pretzels are equivalent to veggies? Wow! I can’t wait ‘til school lunch planner here about this one.
But I digress. In addition to being made of sprouted flour, the only ones currently in mass production, they are also the only ones manufactured with olive oil, and extra virgin, organic oil at that. If you’re interested they are high in fiber and contain no sugar additives. Which, now this is merely a guess, means they are healthier snacks than standard pretzels. Cool.
Oh wait. How do they taste, you wonder? Why, like pretzels of course. Silly!