View as Web Page Send to a Friend
 
The Winners
Your Muse Said.. Wish You Were Here Tuesday, August 3

Hey There,

I went back and counted and this was indeed the 15th prompt .. and it wasn't an easy one, so congratulations and well done! If you haven't taken the time to read what people wrote .. do. They are wonderful.
 
CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WINNERS WHO MADE IT THROUGH FIFTEEN STRAIGHT ROUNDS!!!! They get Carl's voice on their home answering machine.... no, wait. They win the prizes I said would be prizes. PDF bookmark with original Badonsky art on it, a calendar for the rest of the year and a famous Muse powered pen.
 
 
Linda 
Paula 
Lisa 
Beverly 
Rick,
me, 
Adriana 
Kathyrn 
Anne  
Maribeth 
 
PLEASE SEND ME YOUR SNAIL MAIL ADDY EVEN IF YOU THINK I HAVE IT if you want the prizes. The pdf bookmark will be sent to you shortly.
 
If this contest annoyed you or demotivated you, please let me know. I noticed people wrote more so I may begin another challenge unless I hear a lot of protest.
 
Featured Writing: by Linda
Linda
Drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel, I hit my brakes as the light turns red a third time. Traffic is really backed up. With glazed eyes I survey the yellow flashing lights and barriered chaos of my not-so-rush hour drive. On the radio, yet another oil spilled news story blasts my last nerve. Reaching forward and slapping the radio to silence, I look up to an odd sight.
A family of four have stepped out of their car after pulling onto the softly graded road- work sand. Leaning now on the waist-high granite stone that marks the adjacent mall entrance, they look the perfect Kodak moment. Mom, Dad, and two equally blonde middle schoolers smile in delight, standing very still, watching quietly... intently. Following their gaze, breath catches my throat.
Three dapple-bottomed fawns, each a few yards from one another, are dining on blades of tender green grass. I search for their doe, but they appear to be sans Mamma. Calmly, they chew their lawn salad. Intersection tension falls away as every head turns toward this unlikely dinner party. The deer seem calm and confident, as if invitations have been handed in at the curb. Grazing lightly, they pay no heed to the stopped traffic and incredulous stares.
Cars ahead begin to move. Now I wish for delay. Unable to linger, I pull slowly forward, noting with craned neck, that a skunk compliments the scene. Fat and distinctive in black tie and tail, it waddles around the tableau. Perhaps he is the butler, emptying ashtrays and topping off drinks. Driving away, I wonder about the four-legged after-dinner conversation. Will they comment on the rudeness of party crashers gawking at their simple reverie; tummies now full, will they wander safely back into the distant woods?
These are all original prompts created by Jill Badonsky.  If you use these prompts for your own uses, please site your source and include this link:   www.themuseisin.com ...  it's good karma. thanks.
Sitting at my computer, writing lesson plans for the writing lesson I am planning to teach tonight, Jill Badonsky pops through my computer screen. She looks amazing, all those squiggly little birds and arrows and flowers and things whizzing around her head. Aside from her odd-smelling breath it’s a perfect vision. “Are you a contemporary version of Our Lady of Guadelupe?” I ask. “Don’t flatter yourself,” Jill replies.”You have to do more than write a lousy lesson plan to get her attention. I’m Our Lady of Writalotta and I’m a bit puzzled by your agenda for tonight’s class. Grammar test, really? Review MLA citations? Is that all you’ve got?” Sheepish, I mumble something about the syllabus and department guidelines. Great lightning bolts in pink and puce begin to shoot from her head. “Fine,” she fumes. “It’s your buck. Well, your ten bucks. Somehow I thought someone who so quickly invokes the Muse would at least haul her ass into class now and then. Think about it, writing teacher!” In a poof of green smoke and symetry, Jill was gone, pulled back into the screen like an email getting sucked into the trash basket on an iphone. Sitting now, at my computer, writing lesson plans for the writing lesson I am planning to teach today, I reconsider.
Peggy
Middle of the Day Munchies
Dawn…whisk, roll, caress
graceful crimping, manic yen
sweet artful zest…dusk.
Peggy
Mid-Day Sabbatical for an Exhausted Balladist

On a purple-winged turtle, a rainbow dotted
scarf about his middle, words flutter through
billows of cotton candy clouds climbing
high on autobahns of clamoring brainstorms.
Out of the vapors, summer’s last creamsicle-orange
sunset ponders its final intentions of the day
teetering upon the earth’s edge with a horizon
mimicking a silky layer of chocolate pudding.
As our lyricless voyage resumes, we bank
along magic carpets of swiggly, pink and green
contrails, welcoming dusk’s twinkling stars,
bypassing a gaggle of giggling grey gooses.
Smiling moon leisurely begins its rise reflected
perfectly in an unspoiled mountain lake below,
mirroring our journey, we catch a glimpse of our
antics, grinning at the thought of this…a vacation?
Helping themselves to a sip and slurp, docile
deer and unassuming antelope sway their antlers
in unison as if to encourage the flying turtle
and me to enjoy our much needed meditation.
The sky darkens, a signal to bring closure to
this never-wanting-to-end escapade of creative
and audacious mischief my hard-shelled,
purple-winged friend was so kind to maneuver.
Home sweet home, consonants coagulate,
letters alliterate and words are wed
to create romantic rhymes of rant and rave,
making shadows dance a ditty til dawn.
 
Liz Gow
Something is buzzing, she wonders what on earth is occurring. Is this real, this is not part of the picture she realises and then her eyes, slowly. Oh its you, the ever friendly alarm, one day I am going to beat you and get up before you call my name. She places one foot out of bed, it feels different, some how not supported, no matter, she places the other on the floor, then whoosh, a feeling of falling, exhilarting falling. She can see all around her just space, wonderful blue and purple space in different shades, the wind through her hair on her skin, her blue, purple, pink and lime green with hears on pj's are supporting her flying through the air, yes, flying. She is not fearful and realises how free she feels, how exhilarting this is, oh yes she thought that before so it must be true. Why is this happening, no matter. She relaxes and closes her eyes but if I am falling, well gliding now what if I hit the groud, she did not consider looking down, that would be kind of useful to know her destination but she cannot see it, no matter. She closes her eyes and instantly all her senses are heightened, the sounds are incredible, what sounds, well there must be soemthing, the sensations on her skin, in her hair, the taste, there is one she is sure, um something like the taste of anything is possible there is a smell something like the smell of um something cooking, SOMETHING COOKING, no matter. She relaxes and continues to glide, opening her eyes she notices the ground below filled with colours that are so vibrant yet gentle they create a pattern that looks like where she will land will then lead her to a path, she can see at the end of a path is a huge thing, that looks shiney and holds water, whats this she wonders, no matter. She lands gracefully on her botton, if that can be graceful after her little feet and legs have touched down and I guess you could say jogged for a few seconds, before plopping down. Um she can smell something cooking. She walks towards the path and there is the big shiny thing that holds water which is being heated by logs and stuff. There is a cork in the side and she just knows that a cup that is sat there holds coffee and she promptly makes herself a coffee, she blinks and there she sits in her kitchen, breakfast. Now that was a trip, did she beat the clock. Wow that was amazing, what a way to get up, somthing is buzzing in the distance, is it the alarm? Surely I am awake aren't I? No matter.
Cheri Smith
In the life of an artist there is no usual.
O yes,
Little habits, like dents, scratches on
Our autos, but many are the same;
Down in our cells where we live,
And within, we are frighteningly, miraculously
Individuals, a god droplet, exquisitely
Unique.
And isn’t every day likewise
Unique? Has there ever been before
This combo and conundrum of
Complexities, all tools ready for creating?
Isn’t Right Now a perfectly unique moment,
Where our nose can open to a supremely new whiff
Of possibility never before imagined?
Thank you, Monsieur Bonzo, I’m having a usual day
and it is completely and utterly as always
Unusual.
jennifer
shower water turns to animal fur
it's cold like a cat's nose
will this really clean me?
or just leave me more to lint brush?
my dreams awake me
as the cat licks my feet
linda cofiell
Haiku in response to bird droppings toothpaste
I smoked rabbit tobacco
no one said it grew
Cool me smoked rabbit doodoo
linda cofiell
smoked is one syllable- i think.
I dont say smoke-ed
even when high off smoking rabbi do.
there wasnt much to do in the Alabama town where i grew up.
linda cofiell
Retelling of a story told me by plumber Jay who has many unusual pets and who is now working on the sink in my studio.
Petrie,the peach-faced parrot hitches a ride on the back of Lucie, his 20 something year old pot bellied pig. When a pig's back is scratched, the pig falls over in a semi faint. Kind of like a fainting goat. The bareback bird/pig ride ambles its way through the the house and into the great room where there is an audience of two: Jay and Lin his girlfriend. Petrie parrot scratches Lucie pig's back and the pig gently falls over. Petrie then partially flies, partialy jumps onto the now prone pig's side. Petrie then goes into a joyful dance where she begins fully opening and closing her wings, bobbing her head and body, and moving her little birdie feet all to a rhythm she and maybe the pig alone can hear. Look at her go! Up and down like a whirling dervish on Lucie's side and big belly, in a peak experience, entranced by her her glorious light and radiant energy!"Me" she seems to be saying, a mere bird and having this amazing power over Lucie with all her pig self."
And Lucie, now in a perfectly relaxed and blissful state, seems to be smiling at her part in giving her friend such an exalted spiritual experience.
Well done pig.
Lynda Treger
Haiku:
I rolled over on
the dog that rascal got fur
between clean fresh sheets
(I was sitting at this all day meeting.... hard seat, boring meeting, way too long ... and as I always have my notebook at the ready I decided that I must save myself from the day. So I wrote the Haiku. That little Haiku made me feel much better.)
cynthia tedesco
My Unusual Day

Today I kicked the hornets’ nest
Then danced them into fire
My dragon tattoo ran away
As prancing cops drained the lake
& put jello on the window
The swan thieves took my diamond shawl
While mists mapped love sans knickers
Since the parrot makes the house rules
We bribe him with Italian shoes
& Canadian pickles
Dale
Excerpt from: Days With Suprises
I left the leg on the table. Right there. Just like that! I didn’t even think much about it, I was too distraught. Too overwhelmed by what I’d learned. Bolting from the chair, I swooped up my coat and grappled the door knob. Opening the old over-painted plank, I trampled out into dingy
40-watt light of that hallway. Shifting my coat on around me, I was off-- down the steps, and went face first into the frothy crystal night.
Mckayleh
Usual
Needs
Unusual
Satisfying
Underlying
Alternative
Life!
Kat
Waking up. Not exactly unusual. Something he had done every day until at last one day he didn’t. The funny thing was that the day he didn’t, he was quite sure he had. Even chuckling to himself as he performed the old test, pushing out his elbows to ensure he didn’t hit wood, and feeling that reassuring thunk. Making plans for the day as he savored those last few minutes before crawling from under the sleep-warmed covers. Nuzzling Old Katt as he popped open her Friskies. Squinting in the brightness of the morning sun, smiling as the cardinal hollered in the tree outside his kitchen window. Thinking, yessirree, it’s good to be alive. It wasn’t until he finally stepped out the door to meet his morning coffee buddies that he noticed it. His feet didn’t hit the earth. And as he walked his steps were more like flying. In fact, he was flying. Hot damn, he thought. This is going to be an interesting day!
Beverly
How to Send Your Child off to School
1. Hit snooze button until reality of having to actually get up sinks in.
2. Pee
3. Wake child with a quick kiss and back rub.
4. Suddenly stress out because you have just 17 minutes to make breakfast, pack a lunch, and get child to school.
5. Click on Super Speed Time Saver, wonder why it didn’t work.
6. Swear under breath at significant other for not recharging.
7. Take back swear at memory of fully-charged battery pack you left in hovercraft after last night’s “How to replicate a Pot Roast” class.
8. Ask child to get out of bed while dashing out to hovercraft.
9. Pop in fresh battery pack; zip through breakfast and lunch prep.
10. Threaten child with loss of holograph time ‘til age 32 unless he gets out of damn bed.
11. Sense no movement from child.
12. Sigh audibly. Pop School-Fresh hood over child’s bed, press start.
13. Insert Instant Coffee Meal into iCal breakfast slot – set “ready time” for 3 minutes.
14. Answer “because it was ready ten minutes ago” to child’s query about food temp.
15. Ignore child’s remark about getting him up earlier for fear you might send child to Center Earth Rehab.
16. Note time.
17. Swear under breath at significant other for not reinserting TCP (Time-Crunch Portal) after last use.
18. Scan house with FindItAll Scanner. See TCP in purse. Take back swear… damnit.
19. Wrap toast in self-destruct paper towel, hand to child along with lunch.
20. Kiss top of head, smile, wish a good day, shove into TCP, press “School” button.
21. Make mental note to set alarm ten minutes earlier tomorrow.
22. Enjoy a full deep breath along with Instant Coffee Meal.
23. Repeat each school day.
Maribeth Doerr
Me unusual?
I'm an ordinary girl
And I'm fine with that
AnnieVirginia
I actually wrote this a while back just on my own but I love it and I think it fits this prompt perfectly so I'm posting this old one. :)
Every morning, routinely, I watch the frozen spider in your corner.
I wait for its fall, absence, and as it does not come, I learn to find comfort in its suspension.
We become companions, sharing space and a silence we fill with the dead language that has fallen to the back of our heads, dead from captivity.
I take his words like morning coffee-- black, with a quiet vileness, nourishment.
He sits with me in my nakedness, but I don't mind. He's dead.
And naked.
He knows my morning torment, my earliest greeting, the you that wakes in me and bounces around my skull until it softens, defeated, ready for the day.
He knows my useless attempt at cleansing the blood that is only mine.
And laughs the vacant laugh of a specter who has never met warmth.
I take his laughter in a fit of self-pity, peel my soul from my core and fling it at the walls, narrowly missing my bitter friend.
When the countless tiny tremblings of the days of his death coalesce to shake him from your corner, I will miss him.
Gina
Haiku – 5 – 7 – 5
A new day begins
with the sweet sounds of children
smashing our dishes.
Tanka – 5 – 7 – 5 – 7 – 7
Another day ends
With the loud moans of children
Force-marched to their rooms.
There is no one happier
Than a mom with kids tucked in.
Cinquain – 2 – 4 – 6 – 8 – 2
Children
Are the sweetest
Blessings on this big earth.
In spite of endless whining, call me,
Mommy.
Samantha, The Breakfast Fairy
Samantha, the breakfast fairy, joined me this morning as I created my smoothy. She added her fairy dust, just a teeny little bit. Today she contributed: a bit of surprise, some enchantment, wonder, miracles, confidence, playfulness, inner power and time to dream. It’s going to be a beautiful and magical day!
Kathy K
Well, again, here I am - better late than never!
It was a most unusual trek on my treadmill the other day. I hit the start button and it began to move - out the bedroom door, down the stairs and out the front door. Most unusual, Lou said as I waved an astonished good-bye from the front walk.
Daffodils popped up out of the chilly spring soil and craned their papery heads to follow my progress up the driveway. Winnie and Helen and Cloud and Clyde peered from their doors to see me pass by. High up on an incline of 2, I looked down on my lookers-on and waved casually; the royal wave, not to be confused with the royal bird. I saved that for the cranky coot up the street who ran alongside me, gesticulating, shaking his fists, shouting and swearing. I responded with a royal smile and a royal bird from my high perch on incline 3 at 4 MPH and continued on my most unusual jog.
A treadmill parade float up Raynor Road, festooned with yesterday’s bra, today’s hair towel, a few books, IPod, and some leftover Christmas ribbon pulling plastic Easter eggs. Most unusual, I would agree.
Most peculiar, neighbors whispered from behind their envious hands as they greeted me and my rolling walkway.
Past Starlight up to Pepperidge I go. I navigate past the woods. The onion grass is up, the ground hog is foraging. The tree twigs are plump, plump, plump.
I make the circuit high aloft at a steady 4 MPH arms pumping and with an occasional Rocky salute to the sky. Gradually cooling down; a most satisfying ride. A most unusual afternoon!
Adriana Paredes
The sun falls from my left eye
Finding its place upon the sky
My cat dances to Tchaikovsky
While the Pacu fish sings in harmony with the Green finch
I eat the sweetness of the air and grab my keys
I press pause on my dreams and let the day roll by
 
Cherry
I realize that what makes my life so unique and unusual is that it is typical, predictable and ordinary. Everywhere I go and everyone I meet appears to me to be so wacky doodle and atypical that it causes envy within my psyche. I’m jealous of their standout traits and behaviors…I love the bizarre ….I relish the oddity…I embrace life’s foible and all the quirky people in my realm.

Prompt #58 Due Thursday

28 feb star hair
 
Okay, this prompt  draws on responses to Prompt #57. 
Pick a sentences from someone else's response to the last prompt.. a sentence that really energizes your Muse, and go with it. Use is as the first sentence, the last sentence, or a sentence somewhere in the middle. And of course, your piece needs to be completely different from the person whose sentence you took.
 
And for extra credit, write a quick little poem entitled What My Muse Did on Her Summer Vacation. Think Pixar, Tim Burton, David Sedaris, Erma Bombeck or Stephen Colbert. Or think Chaucer, Joyce or Dickinson.
 
Post here
Dear Writers,
 
I say this every week now, so I think this will be the last time... but the writing is getting better and better. Have you noticed what a delight it is to see how everyone interrupts the prompts differently?
 
Sometimes I read them and then write, and sometimes I don't... the former can inspire me, the later can keep me uninfluenced.

click here

Prompt #57 Responses

 Shootingstar2
 
Writers,
On to more writing with an extra day to get it done.
 
Pick one of the following subjects (see below) and write about it using one or more different "viewfinders'" such as paranoid, overly polite, minimalist, baffled, over-zealous, sit-com, Dr. Seuss-like, in poetic angst, indifferent, detail oriented, free spirited.
 Or pick one viewfinder and write about the following subjects with it:
A dinner party,
planting a garden,
ambushing a picnic,
a shooting star
 
Do you know a shooting star?
John Wayne & Roy Rogers did go far
Do you know one with a horse?
Yes I know one,
Trigger, of course!
 
Did Clint Eastwood Hang ‘Em High?
The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, Eye-to-Eye
A Fist Full of Dollars over there?
Yes, A Few Dollars More.
Spaghetti western fare!
 
Who else then is a shooting star?
A rootin’ tootin’ sheriff without par
Does Woody draw in a story of Toys?
Yes, draw he does.
On Etch-A-Sketch, girls and boys!
rick
A dinner party detailed -
 
Actually, it was a birtday party for Mike, but we were told not to mention the "b" word because it would make him grumpy. Or should I say, more grumpy than usual. Grumpier.
What does that old saying mean...the one that says.."the devil is in the details"? Well, we did have deviled eggs and everything else seemed perfect before the guests arrived.
Even getting the ice was perfect. Janet and I took one of those giant platic tubs with two rope handles and headed to the ice machine. She really wasn't sure where it was but knew it was one of those giant free standing machines next to a convenience store. Talk about perfect...who ever was there last had left $3.25 in credit on the machine! The tub was filled to the top for free.
The croquet course was laid out perfectly, factoring in the afternoon shade, the oak roots and the hanging banana spiders.
 
The bocce ball competition was delayed because we made the lines with baking flour early that morning. Around noon, Aires the puppy arrived from Tallahassee and who knew...the little guy liked flour!
Before you could say the "b" word, that little dog had licked up about a pound of flour or whatever was left of the two bags we put out there. He walked in with his brown face covered in white flour dust and his belly lookin like he swallowed a cannon ball.
Horseshoes. Devan had convinced one of the gals that he could teach her to levitate a horseshoe. Sure enough, during one of the matches, there they were tossing horseshoes up in the air and expecting them to stay there. It made for a very slow game.
There were two teams. A and B. Devan was also the scorekeeper. He said that due to the number of people and events, he would need a dry erase marker board! Lizzy told me there might be one in the garage, so off we went.
If you have ever seen the show "Pickers", where these two guys go through barns and buildings and garages and try to "pick" things of value....well, that was me and Lizzy. Other than Mike's classic Harley, it was a picker's delight. We found the fly fishing fly kit that Mike had used to make his own fishing fly's. We found shin guards from Lizzy's soccer days in jr high school. We found their cat, Spud, but Lizzy said that is usually where he hangs out. Sure enough, the pickers prevailed and we found it tucked in behind one of the beach skim boards against the wall.
Two hours later, Devan calculated the team scores. He said that team B had won by 1 point. Team A protested and demanded a revote...it is Florida after all. So, Devan re calculated and said that team B won by 1 point.
There were threats of throwing him in the pool, but since Mike had started the grill and all of the side dishes were on the table, someone quietly started to sing....
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to Mike
Happy Birthday to you
Thia
WELL LOOKIE HERE IT’S ADAM & EVE!
 
Did you see them in the bushes?
 
LET’S GRAB THEIR CLOTHES
WITHOUT THEIR KNOWLEDGE
& how do you propose?
 
DO YOU SEE THOSE TREES BEHIND THEM?
WE’LL GO AROUND & SURPRISE THEM!
OOOOh this is going to tick off You Know Who
We could end up in the outer boroughs of Hell!
Oh I’m not sure about this
No, not at all…
THEN STAY HERE & WHINE ABOUT IT!
 
Come back don’t leave me here
 
THEN MOVE YOUR WINGS & LET’S BE OFF
I’LL GRAB THEIR CLOTHES & YOU PRETEND
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’VE BEEN ABOUT…
 
 
lisa
Good Morning class! Let's begin our new unit on...um...what's our new unit? Oh yes, thank you Carrie, our unit is on Organizational Behavior. Now, if you would please turn to chapter 17 in your text...now where did I leave that thing? Is it in my desk...no...in my satchel...crap...oh sorry, didn't mean to use coarse language, but you see I'm trying to track down my...what the heck was I looking for? Oh yes, book. Could someone please tell me about our new unit, while I locate my text?
-k
GARDENING
 
A fifteen by twenty foot plot.
Twenty fifteen-foot rows.
Twelve inches between.
Arugula, bell peppers, chili peppers,
daikon, eggplant, fordhooks, green beans…
Oh, no! Which six letters shall I ignore?
And what if some need more space?
***
 
Oh, look at these beautiful seed packets!
Let’s get the fluffy pink blooms.
And the golden spikes are so lovely.
The purple explosions, too.
What fun it will be!
Let's mix the seeds, toss them high.
And wait for magic to unfurl.
***
 
My salvation came the day I happened across Mel Bartholomew’s Square Foot Gardening. All the fresh vegetables I could want neat and tidy and compact in a few square feet of space. Everything I needed for salsa, for summer vegetable grilling, for side dishes, for main dishes, for sharing with friends. An hour preparing the soil, twenty minutes planting. Five minutes weeding. A whole long summer of feasting.
***
 
I do it the way Mom always did. Planting the lettuce and radishes first. Then the peas, the beans, the squash and kohlrabi. Weeks later setting out the tomatoes plants. Patiently hoeing, watering, watching, tending. The whole garden framed in hollyhocks of white, pink, violet, ruby, burgundy and deepest purple. Harvesting in early morning before the wilting mid-day heat. Canning, preserving, putting by for winter days. Basking in the glow of row upon row of jars, brimming with summer's goodness.
Jill Badonsky
one star, blue star
red star, two star
shooting by in all it's glory
telling ancient cosmic stories.
here I am on bedroom bed
a shooting star rides through my head
then I see one in the sky...
and ask "what on earth do stars imply?"
then I sit and simply blink..
remember not to over think
because I do that sometimes
and sometimes really stars are stars
and so are players of guitars
wow this poem is turning south
so I'll stop here, so shut my mouth.
just kidding here I am.
Jill I am, I don't eat ham.
I love pigs.
 
 
Beverly
It’s gardening day, I can tell from the air,
It’s crisp and it’s clean and it smells from the fair,
Which always comes ‘round about this time of year,
Bringing baskets of mushrooms and good-smelling beer.
Gather your shovel, your gloves, and your hat,
Gather your rake and your hoe and your mat.
Tomatoes need stakes and beans need a pole,
I’ll bet that your ostrich can help dig the holes.
Plant many seeds, many seeds of all kinds,
Open the packets and place them in lines.
Or toss them in bundles and see where they land,
The way you toss salad with tongs or bare hands.
The squirrels did their duty by tilling the ground,
The moles did the same (just step over the mound).
The worms and the ants and the beetles are through,
They’ve gotten the soil all ready for you.
Be sure to set lemonade out for your break,
And maybe a cracker or two and some cake.
Now pick up that shovel and dig, dig, dig, dig.
It helps quite a lot if you dance a nice jig.
At the end of the day when the sun has gone down,
Sit with your ostrich and rest on the ground.
Stretch a big stretch, pat yourselves on the back,
You’ve done a great job, now it’s time for a nap.
Maribeth
Oh dear, I think the silver isn’t quite shiny enough. Lady Catherine de Bourgh will think we’re heathens. Why can’t the maids polish things correctly? Do I have to do everything myself? My poor Elizabeth will be distraught. Mr. Darcy’s aunt is finally speaking to him again since the wedding, and now I fear we are proving to her how unworthy the Bennet family is.
Oh no! The placecards are wrong! Lady Catherine simply cannot sit next to Lydia’s shameful husband Mr. Wickham! They shouldn't really be here at all but how can you uninvite your own daughter? Whatever will Lady Catherine think!
Merciful heavens! The soup is tepid! How can I even wake up in the morning knowing we served Lady Catherine lukewarm soup? The Bennet name is disgraced; Longbourne will never host another party!
Good gracious, she’s barely eating a thing! I thought the pheasant was especially tender but . . . oh no! She’s gagging on a bone. Where are my smelling salts; how I shall never survive this? No. NO! Wickham is clapping her on the back. He’s going to kill her!! Maybe she'll just choke and this nightmare will be over.
The bone . . . the bone is dislodged. Where’s my wine glass? Just a snort will do. The damned smelling salts burn my eyes. GOOD GOD who put those bones in the pheasant? The cook must be fired immediately. I wonder where Mr. Bennet left his flask. I'll check his sock drawer as soon as I get upstairs.
Mr. Darcy was so very kind to help his aunt to the parlor. What a lovely man he is. I’m sure Lady Catherine will be calling for her driver posthaste. THE SHAME! I’ll never be able to leave my bedroom again! Elizabeth will simply have to host her own parties at Pemberley. I’m done with this whole snobby clan!
Kathy K
It wouldn’t be a garden dinner party without the Reilly’s. Not that they were ever invited. They just seemed to show up. When cars appeared in your driveway, the Reilly’s were never far behind.
Joe Reilly was the neighborhood Peter Pan. He took the kids fishing, coached street hockey and always had his hand in his pocket when the jingle of the ice cream man drew all the kids out of their houses. About the time someone graduated from middle school they graduated from Joe.
Not that Joe wasn’t a good guy. He’d run his snow blower around the neighborhood, be available for plumbing or electrical problems or to take you to the emergency room when the lawnmower kicked that sharp rock up and sliced your big toe. And he wouldn’t even comment on why you were mowing your lawn wearing flip flops.
And then there was Marlene Reilly. Also nice; always good for local gossip; always had something in her freezer that she could contribute.
Overall, the Reilly’s were a nice enough couple. But they were always “around”. It put everyone on edge; had them looking over their shoulders, sneaking between houses to avoid Joe and Marlene. If you stopped at the Clares to see how Rose's mother was doing after knee surgery, Marlene would be two steps behind you with a half addressed card, asking “what’s your mom’s zip code? I just wanted to send her…”. If you got home from work at the same time as Hank Reedy who was a stock broker, and you were shooting the bull about the state of the Dow Jones, sure enough one of the Reilly’s would appear “just wondering if you could give me some ideas about my annuity…”
They seemed to live just inside their front door, always ready to leap out at the first sign of any activity.
 
So, when the Asciones decided to have a few people over for an early summer dinner party, everyone wondered if the Reillys would be there. But Sal and Millie Ascione always gave such nice parties. Maybe this time the Reillys would be away or really inside their house.
The Millers scurried up the driveway, heads down as if fascinated by the cracks in the pavement. Max and his partner came through the Reedy’s yard, with Hank and Mia close behind. Neighbors snuck between hedges to get into the yard. Only Winnie marched up to the front door with her peach crumble under yards of Reynolds wrap, banging on the metal frame of the screen door before someone rushed in from the back to hush her, take the cake and send her out to the patio.
A few drinks into the evening everyone started to relax. The sun was hanging low and the late summer air was cooling. Sal Ascione was getting ready to light the firepit. Millie was lighting candles and going to plug in the twinkly lights strung up in the pine trees. Then, and only then, the gate flew open with a crash and the Reillys blew in, the trombone section of the parade that followed the reeds; heavy metal injected into Ella Fitzgerald.
Millie Ascione put on her “Oh, shit, the Reillys are here” smile, pointed them to the beer cooler and lit the party lights.
Adriana~ Dancer4dreams
A tale of flowers from a Free Spirited Child
 
There was once a fairy” Sweet pea said in her lovely voice
To the three little Crocuses growing next to her
Faeries don’t count, Violet interrupted
While looking at her reflection in the nearby puddle the rain left behind.
“Quiet, you don’t want to make the fairies mad,” Sunflower chimed in, while turning her head away from the Sun
“Why?” A child Crocus asked
“Why?”The red tulips mimicked the child crocus’ voice
“Why?” The other two crocuses now wanted to know
“Well,” said a beautiful Peony in a singing voice,
“Without faeries there would be no gardens
They use their paintbrushes to give us our colors
Make yummy soups when we are only seeds
Sing lovely songs that help us grow stronger
Tell us good jokes to make our spirits soar
But, Peony’s whispered in a very low voice
If you made a fairy mad
You will lose your colors and will only wear black…”
The three crocuses shuddered
They vowed to not listen to Violet’s words
As the year went by, they befriended the fairies and lived a long life
Susan Clare
I do declare Mr. Thompson is entertaining the entire room with his most generous personality. Why I believe he’s so kindly brought us all up to date on the happenings in the world. He’s made sure we all know what’s right and not some silly half truths we may have heard or come up with on our own. And there’s Miss Bailey moving so lightly through the dining room, her as her feet barely touch the floor. As she turns sideways, the sunset fully pours into the room and she almost disappears. She must be feeling poorly as of late, poor dear. Her white complexion looks beautifully matched to the starched table linens gracing our hostesses table. Moving about the table settings is Mrs. Belvedere, the owner of this fine manor. Her beautifully quaffed hair appears to be reaching towards the heavens with peaks as pretty as pink cotton candy. She must be pure sweetness to be able to entertain this lovely group of phenomenally monotonous conversationalists. Bless their hearts; they are keeping up their appearances mostly well.
Anne
A is for Ardvark who surely won't Arrive
B is for the Butler who will Bumble the Bees hive
C is for Caliber of the Conversation among Critters
D for DInner party and the forest is all a fritter...
E for the Elegant Emerald Eel jacket
F for Finneas Frog donning it and making quite a Frackus
G is for Gauche Galumphing Ground dwelling hog
H is for Hairy, as he rudely Hauled his own log
I for the Introduction of the Indigo Impala
J is for Jammed up, as I am with this Alpha...
K for Keep Krawling with Suess as I kalumph
L for the Land where this dinner shall triumph...
 
Hark, hear the sound of the Dilumpher's Bell
THe event of the spleason
they all know it well...
King Onceasneeze invites the kingdom to dine
on the fineries of Willowsmall,
slurped down with green wine.
The culinarians they sniff with pink snouts all a fizzled
Will there be dill in their Krill or a Nox serving Ox with a swizzle?
They arrive via slither, slime and skydiving....
Minoozers from Minneumpheleeze and
Philamelphians from Yon
There are Snark-toothers, Snithers and Snimsnammers
All donned,
In their feathey, leathery, sometimes sitckified finery
As they strut and eyeball their costumes towards the winery...
Swirl, sniff and slurp down viscuous green sludge,
Find your place card and pray
your slithey neigbors
won't snatch your cherished snail fudge
morphing your dinner to vapors...
The talk is as small as the ManiniWeenies pinkie
You wish to be home reading Wee Willie Winkie
With your chicklettes all tucked up in moss and fuzz
Waiting a nite nite slurp from the mommy they love.
Posted by: Anne

Some More Interesting Writing Blogs

    1. Authors’ Blogs: This isn’t just one blog, but a collection of numerous aspiring writers sites, so you can take your pick of reading material.
    2. Plot Monkeys: These four bloggers talk about everything from their everyday lives to the books they love.
    3. Maternal Spark: Moms who love to write or create on the side

       
      The Muse is IN • 3142 1st Ave • San Diego, CA 92103
      Subscribe | Unsubscribe | Send to a Friend | Preferences | Report Spam
      Powered by MyNewsletterBuilder