Look Back In Anger – And Nostalgia

The weirdest things formerly taught in schools

Part one:

In another day and age, girls in public school might be separated to learn sewing and cooking in home economics class, while boys went to shop class to learn carpentry and mechanics skills. Dead languages were taught to understand live ones. Learning how to take proper notes, develop neat handwriting, read sweep-hand clocks and how to actually spell words are among the other weird things formerly taught in schools.

Latin

Schools for the most part no longer veni, vidi, vici the classical languages, Latin and Ancient Greek. True, you can’t use them in your day-to-day conversation but their loss is also our loss. Studying Latin helps us better understand the grammar and vocabulary of other languages, such as English. And many professions have vocabulary steeped in Latin, including law and medicine.

Handwriting

In the era of keyboard, cursive writing classes are on the way out or gone at many schools.  But not all educators are happy about this.

There’s a myth that in the era of computers we don’t need handwriting. That’s not what our research is showing,” says a University of Washington professor who has co-authored studies on the topic and followed the same children every year for five years to track their development. “What we found was that children until about grade six were writing more words, writing faster and expressing more ideas if they could use handwriting—printing or cursive—than if they used the keyboard.”

Home economics

In times past, it was common for boys to take shop classes and for girls to do home economics, where they would learn to cook, fold sheets and so on, so they could become proficient homemakers. Well, presumptions about gender roles have changed and home economics is fast becoming a creaky relic of the past. That said, teaching both girls and boys practical life skills, like how to boil an egg or do their own laundry, might be a good thing.

Shop class

No, shop class wasn’t learning how to become a more proficient shopper. It taught, boys mostly, basic carpentry and mechanics skills. Liability issues, using machines that can lop off digits or ruin eyes, may be one reason that shop and the industrial arts are increasingly falling off the school map.

But a school in North Carolina makes the case: “Shop classes offer students with their hands. They let students test their inclinations toward possible careers in engineering, carpentry, or architecture.”

Typing

As with handwriting, typing is being whited out in schools, with the belief that kids today are born with keyboards in their hands and screens before their eyes. So, gone are the days where students have their fingers poised over typewriter keyboards, with the teacher intoning, “D-d-d, space.” However, even though self-taught youngsters may be reasonably proficient, they would have a great work advantage if they learned to keyboard at full speed.

Dewey Decimal System

The Dewey Decimal System, first introduced in the 1800s, is a numerical system used by libraries to classify their book holdings into subjects and subcategories. Kids needed to get lessons from librarians to learn how to use it, thumbing their way through card catalogues, so they could research school papers and other projects. With the internet, Dewey Decimal is now skipping class. Even librarians are questioning the need to teach it.

Dodgeball

Dodgeball used to be a standard gym class activity, with two teams lining up facing each other and then hurling balls at each other in a contest of elimination. Because some kids have better throwing arms—and accuracy—than others, injuries happened and now schools are increasingly banning the game.

Using slide rules

Before using calculators in math class, we had slide rules to make basic calculations, especially multiplication and division. The rulers, with a central sliding slip marked with logarithmic scales date back to the 17th century. They fell out of use in the 1970s when mass-produced pocket calculators became widely available. The last slide rule was manufactured on July 11, 1976.

Reading Analog Clocks

Elementary school students used to be taught that when the small hand was at three and the big hand at six that it was 3:30 and perhaps time to go home. A new generation raised on digital readouts, have trouble dealing with analog time-telling. So much so that some schools have actually removed analog clocks because mystified kids were turning up late for classes and exams.

Etiquette

Etiquette hasn’t been part of school curricula for a long time. However, some experts believe it would do kids good to get lessons in class to supplement what they are learning, or not learning, at home. How to do a proper handshake, tie a tie, and address your elders, are good things to know.

We’ll have some more nostalgia later.

The Year In Photos

Inspiration strikes – when Inspiration strikes.  This ‘Year,’ will begin and end on March 1.  Hang onto your seats!  Here we go.  The theme will be Chaos And Confusion.  I’ll be Chaos, if you’ll handle the confusion.

March 1/21 – the monthly Costco visit

COVID masks, COVID masks
COVID all the way
(To the tune of Jingle Bells)

March 8 –

We washed the son’s work jacket…. And his 10 year old flip-phone.
Might be the origin of the term “Clean and Jerk

March 15 –

The wife’s last visit to a Physiotherapist, for a pulled back muscle.
My last cold wait outside – here.

March 22

The neighbors’ version of Groundhog Day.  Canadian weather changes quickly in the spring.

March 29

It’s Ours!  It’s Ours!  It’s Ours!
Paid off a 25-year mortgage in just over 17 years.  Can’t decide how to celebrate – McDonalds for a sundae strains the entertainment budget.

April 5

Here we go round the Mulberry bush
Hardly a bush, this young tree was 6’ – as tall as the Grandson – when we planted it five years ago.  The winter’s snows have all disappeared.  Soon I will have to mow my back yard again.

Week of April 12

The daughter and I got some COVID freedom and fresh air when I drove her to a dental appointment.  During the wait, I rewarded myself with a visit to the second-best French fries outlet – on the other side of town.  Finally open for the season at Easter, in a freestanding ex-Dairy Queen building.

W/O April 19

With a great-grandson on the way, the wife went into nesting mode.  She knitted a 36” X 48” crib blanket.  The checkerboard pattern is ‘Wee Bean,’ for our oncoming wee bean.

W/O April 26

Step on a crack – Break your Mother’s back
I’ll set you straight.
A visit to our Chiropractor.  Just another on the long list of our medical specialists.

W/O May 3

Our magnolia bush.  Its blossoms only last a couple of days, but it’s gorgeous while it lasts.  Usually it is completely covered in blooms, but a late-April freeze and snowstorm delayed/killed about half the flowers.

W/O May 10

A shopping trip past the new Google building, erected on the bones of my old auto-parts plant.

W/O May 17

Took the wife and daughter to Podiatrist, in a renovated Century-house.
At least the COVID wait outside was getting warmer.

W/O May 24

A visit to the daughter, held up by the new LRT Street Railway.  It sure holds up a lot of non-PC, car traffic, while it transports a half-dozen eco-friendly hipsters.

W/O May 31

When I finally get past that damned street railroad, this is the daughter’s single-level, handicap townhouse apartment.

W/O June 7

She doesn’t rub me the wrong way.
The ‘Happy Ending’ at our massage therapist is loosened computer-shoulders.
Dolly Parton once said that it cost a lot of money, to look that cheap.
It is fortunate that it’s my retirement benefits package which pays so much, to keep us in good physical shape.

W/O June 14

A free, origami Lotus blossom, picked up at our Multicultural festival, before COVID struck.  It represents peace and tranquility – I need all I can get.

W/O June 21

A trip to our out-of-town Vet, past 1920s Commemorative ‘Pioneer Tower,’ to recall the 1820s arrival of Pennsylvania Dutch/ German immigrants

W/O June 28

The best French fry wagon in town.  Sure looks permanent, for a trailer.  Hello delicious.  Goodbye diet – and I found a new little knife.  See Look Sharp

W/O July 1

To celebrate Canada Day on July 1, the son adopted an immigrant.  It crawled over the remains of Trump’s wall, shouting, “To Hell with Dia de los Muertos, I’m here for the Maple syrup.”

W/O July 8

The replacement building at the nearby Farmers’ Market for the wooden structure that burned, five years ago.

W/O July 15

The nearby branch of the city library.  With up to 5000 total books per day located, moved and curbside delivered, these folks were local heroes, getting me and many others through the lockdown.

W/O July 22

My 1952 print dictionary, which I am giving up for digital.  2000 pages for $20.00 – purchased at a country schoolyard flea-market in 1972, in Mar Ontario – population 4.

July 25

The wife and I finally got our second COVID vaccination.  That’s one infection you don’t need to worry about contracting from me.

W/O Aug. 5

 

Ex-Public Utilities Commission building which handled the 20th Century electrification of Kitchener, and eventually   became the Grandson’s Starbucks.

W/O Aug. 12
*

A lovely, hand-made glass flower that the daughter gave us.  I stuck it in a planter on the back deck.  Storm winds turned it slightly.  The neighbors worried that we’d installed a security camera – facing them.

W/O Aug. 19

I helped the grandson pick up a new chair for his mother, and almost stepped on this cat.
(It was a carved stone cat which we both thought was real  The photo may be added later…. if I can just find it.)  😛

W/O Aug. 26

Perhaps the most boring week of my life – not that I’m complaining.  At my age, boring is good.  The most exciting thing that happened was my newspaper got delivered.

W/O Sept 14


I discovered that my Lilac bush was growing crab-apples, which I could make crab-apple jelly with.

W/O Sept 21

I did it! I lasted long enough to celebrate my 77th birthday.  We voted in a Federal election the day before.  I did not get the present of a new Prime Minister – one who wasn’t a spoiled trust-fund baby.

W/O Oct 11

Canadian Thanksgiving.  COVID restrictions on group size had been relaxed, and all of us had had two vaccine shots.  We were all able to gather for a family meal, with the GREAT-grandson (above) as the honored guest.

W/O Nov. 8

COVID19 is going down for the count.  The Americans let vaccinated Canadians into the country – but the Canadian bureaucrats insisted on a $200 test to get back into Canada. Soon, Galleria and Boulevard Mall, soon.

W/O Nov. 15

Spring has sprung – Fall has fell – and there’s 6 inches of Partly Cloudy on my Canadian deck.  I published this photo a few years ago, but it’s become ritual with this home-owner.  This year’s version is indistinguishable.

W/O Nov. 22

Those who do not learn from the mistakes of history, are doomed to repeat them.
George Santayana

Dec. 2

The relaxation of COVID19 restaurant restrictions allowed us to go to Red Lobster to celebrate our 54th wedding anniversary.

W/O Dec. 5

And the lion shall lie down with the lamb
With our three cats and two dogs, our Vet wonders if they get along with each other.

W/O Dec. 12

Two weeks ago, I took two quarters from a pay phone slot.  Last week I found a dime in a change-counter machine overflow.  This week I found 61 pennies, because the machines are now set to eject them.  15 of them were American – which went in our We’ll get to Detroit for a weekend shopping after COVID, fund.

W/O Dec. 25

At a COVID-permitted family Christmas gathering, I found some strange man holding my GREAT-grandson Rowan back, to keep him from lunging at the camera.

W/O Jan. 3

Well, here’s another fine year we’ve got ourselves into. (Laurel and Hardy – here’s another fine mess) Survive, or submit, it’s up to us to make the best of it.

W/O Jan. 10

We don’t have enough knives in this house, so we adopted yet another, which came back to the son’s plant in an ‘empty’ shipping container.

W/O Jan. 17

To get our third COVID (booster) shot, we had to go downtown, to the recently-ex Regional Municipal Building.  Are more COVID and booster shots still in the future??  Will this never end?

Jan. 31

I think I can.  I think I can.
I thought I could.  I thought I could.
Slow and steady wins the race.
After ten+ years, I published 1500 posts.

W/O Feb. 19

COVID restrictions relaxed – again, just in time to book a reservation to celebrate the wife’s 73rd birthday.  Dining was at half capacity.  Our timing was perfect.  Everyone else found out about it, and the NEXT DAY you couldn’t get a table at gunpoint.  😯

March 1/22

*

So we end the year right where we began it – at Costco – only a little closer to free food samples again.

Thanx for strolling through a year in my life – lotsa good readin’, if ya like pitchers.  I will be purveying prose on Friday.  C U then.  😀

Anatomy Of Insomnia

If there’s no rest for the wicked, I must be evil, Evil, EVIL!  😈  If it isn’t one thing – it’s everything.

The wife normally goes to bed several hours before my dead-tired deadline.  She has sleep apnea, a CPAP machine, and a full-face mask.  Usually, it is whisper quiet, producing a soft, slight susurration of white noise that helps to quickly transport me to slumber-land.  Then, there are nights like….

4:55 am
I enter the bedroom, dispossess the cat sleeping at her feet, call the two Scotty dogs into the bedroom and up on the bed, and close the door to keep the cat out, and the dogs from getting into trouble.  I manage to wedge myself between the dogs, and finally doze off.

6:00 AM
The wife moves in her sleep, breaking the seal on her facemask, which begins to do an imitation of an tenor sax.
I burrow back into the pillow, determined to fall back to sleep.
Whether because of the instrumental, or the cat in the hall, one of the dogs uses my leg as a starting block, and leaps to the floor and whines.
My bladder insists that we’re getting up.

I stumble into the bathroom.  In the illumination of a small nightlight, I find a puddle of toilet paper on the floor.  The evicted cat likes to play with the rolls.  We have small plastic clips that prevent this, but the wife, in a semi-conscious state, apparently forgot to put it on.
I turn on the light to see, so that I can rewind it.
I’m now awake enough to realize I have twenty words that I want to add to a blog.
I step into the computer room and turn on the light.
As I’m typing, the cat marches back and forth in front of the monitor, leaps on my shoulder, and yells in my ear.  I add a prompt to a different blog draft.

With all this going on, the dogs leak out of the bedroom, and insist that they need to go outside for another leak.  I trudge downstairs, put them out, wait, and bring them in.
With the orchestra tuning up, there’s no sense going back upstairs.  Maybe I can doze off on the couch.  I toss a throw over me and get comfy…. And two dogs lick my face to find out why I’m not in bed.

A different cat who’s always looking for warmth, jumps up on me, and snuggles behind my knees.  Warm and somnolent again, we both try to go to sleep.
The computer-room cat walks across my chest and yells in my ear, to explain that he was trying to tell me upstairs, that he wanted to be fed.  Off the couch and to the cat food.

It’s now after 7:00 AM.  Perhaps I could lie back in the recliner.  Two dogs jump up and settle between my legs.  Warm and drowsy, I can feel sleep approaching.
The cold cat is now at the top of the stairs, complaining.  The dogs again use me as starting blocks to go find out why, rocking the recliner.
Soon, one dog returns, along with the cat, which cuddles into my crotch.  My mind is now racing with a theme for a 100-word Flash Fiction.

8:05 AM  The son arrives home from work.  Two humans, two dogs, and three cats create a combination of a three-ring circus, and a four-alarm fire.
Always bad, my memory is worse when I’m tired.  I had a great idea for the upcoming A 2021 Challenge, but have already forgotten it.  By 9:00 AM I have most of this post composed, but I have to have the wife to a 1:00 PM appointment.  We’ll be back up by eleven.  If you see a zombie shuffling past, it’s not looking for brains.  It’s just me, looking for mine, and hoping for my (early/extended) afternoon nap.

Grumpy Old Dude One-Liners

New show, The Walking Dad….
….It’s just me, wandering around the house, turning off lights, muttering, “I’m not made of money.”

I ate an entire clock yesterday….
….It was very time-consuming.

What do you do when you see a spaceman?….
….Park your car, man.

I am not addicted to reading….
….I can quit – as soon as I finish this chapter.

I made a pencil with two erasers….
….It was pointless

I slept like a log last night….
….Woke up in the fireplace.

I finally found a good use for a stress ball….
….I throw it at anyone who makes me upset or anxious.

Dad, are we pyromaniacs?….
….We arson.

Nothing is really lost….
….Until Mom can’t find it.

I thought I was losing weight….
….Turns out my sweatpants came untied.

I may be crazy….
….But crazy is better than stupid.

Autobiographies are now known as….
….Literary selfies.

Condoms should be used….
….at every conceivable occasion.

I got a friends request from Quasimodo….
….I don’t think I know him, but the name rings a bell.

I used to work as a circus trapeze artist….
….Till they let me go.

I have OCD….
….Old, Cranky, and Demented.

Before the invention of the wheel….
….Everything was a total drag.

Why can’t humans hear a dog whistle?….
….Because dogs can’t whistle.

Insomniacs are sick human beings!….
….How do they sleep at night?

My wife woke up with a huge smile on her face today….
….I love felt-tip pens.

My son kept giving us shocks from static electricity….
….So I grounded him.

I have a goal of losing 20 pounds this year….
….Only 30 more to go.

’21 A To Z Challenge – L

 

So, there I was, languidly lolling about.  I was afflicted with a bout of lethargic lassitude.  An A To Z Challenge post for the letter

was due, and I was lounging around, instead of writing.  I don’t want to say that my composition regimen was lax, but nothing was landing on the page.

The quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog.

I don’t give a shit!
Perhaps you should take a laxative.

I don’t want to have to admit that I am lazy.  (Among other reasons) That’s why I don’t have a web-cam on my monitor.  The French have a couple of softer, kinder phrases that I can use, and if it’s good enough for the French, I’m laissez-faire, and laissez-ća ā Georges enough to hide behind them.

Laissez-faire just means “let it happen,” a sort of Gallic shrug equivalent to Que sera, sera – yeah, whatever, man.  Laissez-ća ā Georges means, “Let George do it.”  That sounded like a likely solution to my lack of finished blog-post.  I gave George a call, but he was busy leading an LGBTQ+ parade in Luxemburg.

At long last I accepted responsibility for putting letters on the page.  It was the least I could do – and this I what you get when I give my least.  It was an L of a struggle.  Wednesday’s post will have a little more meat to it – curried beef, I believe – but there will also be some tofu dishes for my Vegan readers.  😉  😀

Flash Fiction #262

PHOTO PROMPT© Ted Strutz

CANON LAW

…. But the Contessa’s brother is left-handed – I showed that in chapter III, when I had him defend Uncle Auggie from that footpad.

She can’t approach the Duke, because I had her in Milan when the robbery occurred.

I could have Rodrigo, the valet, carry the message, but I’ve already showed that Duke Milburn refuses to converse with other noble’s servants.

Could my cook tell his cook?

Writing this historical fiction isn’t as easy as it seemed.  I should have put up that story-board when Bob suggested it.

Where’s a really good Deus ex Machina, when I truly need one?

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Money In The Bank

Another heaping helping of OCD??
No thanx!  I’ve got enough already.

The first 15 blogs that I posted, I typed directly into WordPress, and published immediately, subject to random fits of creativity.

THEN I GOT SMART!

I found out about opening a Word file, composing whenever the Muse and I had a one-night-stand, and posting on an established schedule.  Soon I had a dozen posts ‘in the bank,’ ready to go as needed.  Over several years, that number continued to climb – first to 15 – then 20.

I take this blogging thing as seriously as I used to regard any of my jobs.  It is a self-imposed penance.  Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  It has been nine days since I have written a word.
Say five Hail Marys my son, and create three amusing posts.
  (Just not about The Church, my son.  His Holiness has heard about you, and has sent me an email.)  😈

I can’t be trusted to produce a steady output.  Whenever I have a flash of genius, or just steal a post-theme from another blogger, I bank it in my ‘Blog Notes’ file.  I schedule to publish three posts a week.  I would write three in a day, or five in three days – then not produce a thing for a week.  Once I banked thirteen posts in eight days, and produced nothing more for over two weeks.

Of course, four of those were comedy posts.  I trawl for acceptable jokes, and drop them into the same file.  Control-C/Control-V them into their own posts, and I can build four of them at a time, in an hour.  Slowly but surely, the bank gained interest.  Soon I was up to 25…. and then 30 waiting posts.  Add a few – publish a few – I only worried when the total fell below 20.

Finally, I reached 35 in the bank, and then, a particularly productive week came upon me.  Even with publishing three, the sediment deposit piled up to 39 – and I was so proud of myself.  A tour through blog-post land quickly let the hot air out of my balloon.

One female’s blog-theme was, “Am I The Only One With 57 Unpublished Posts In A Word File??!”
57??  Who does she think she is – Heinz?  It only got worse from there.  One reader stated that she had 113.  Another lady claimed that she had 125.

I need someone to squeeze my head like a lemon rind, to get a few more drops of snark out of me, and onto the page.  The online conversation continued, and finally, my heart palpitations calmed down.  Not one of them had that many unpublished “posts.”  What every one of them had was – an idea here, a theme there, an interesting concept, an opening sentence, a paragraph or two of prose.

The best thing about my posts is – They’re finished.  Interesting or boring, educational or mind-numbingly banal, peaceable or confrontational – they’re done – ready to publish.  There were 41 titles on my unpublished list, but this was one of three that weren’t actually complete yet, so I’m still only at 39.  If I can just get those other two completed by Friday, I’ll set a new personal best record.  How about you??  Do you bank posts?

***

Between the time this post was originally composed – and now, I accepted the 2022 BEDA Challenge – Blog Every Day in April.  Besides my regularly scheduled 13 posts, I will need another 17.  I have composed a warning post, to be published in late-March, and nine of the seventeen others.

With COVID closing the Canada/US border, Erato, my Muse, has not been able to get to Daytona Beach to take part in Girls Gone Wild videos.  She’s been snuggling up to me, and whispering in my ear more than usual.  My unpublished list has reached 55 twice, and now hovers nearer to 50, than 40.  😀  😎

Patient One-Liners

I had my patience tested….
….I’m negative.

Is there rehab for gossiping?….
….I don’t need it, but I’ll tell you does.

The sign on the brothel door said….
….Beat it, we’re closed.

If at first you don’t succeed….
….We have a lot in common.

I f***ing love asterisks….
….I swear by them.

I’m writing a book about hurricanes and tornadoes….
….So far it’s just a draft.
….That first draft really blew me away.

How did the preacher get people to have faith in his words?….
….He became a scientist.

I hope Elon Musk never gets into a scandal….
….Elon-gate is too drawn-out.

A fine is a tax for doing wrong….
….A tax is a fine for doing well

My friend Jack claims that he can talk to vegetables….
….Jack and the beans talk.

Those who get too big for their britches….
….Will be exposed in the end.

Why do bagpipers walk while they play?….
….To get away from the noise.

Nobody thought that Mel Gibson could play a Scot, but look at him now….
….Alcoholic, and a racist.

The three worst blogging mistakes….
….1: Overpromising
….2: Underdelivering

Banks should do a better job of keeping their ATMs filled….
….I went to five today, and they all said Insufficient Funds.

Misspell one word, and the whole text is….
….Urined.

My psychiatrist said that I was immature, so I said I wanted a second opinion….
….He said that I was also delusional.

I have the memory of an elephant….
….I saw it at the zoo.

You know what always catches my eye?….
….Short people with umbrellas.

Lazy person fact #4348791….
….You’re too lazy to read that number.

Pluto just had a party….
….He didn’t even planet.

A man with schizophrenia walked into a bar….
….He bumped into nothing, because the bar is not real.

How do you walk a dog with no legs?….
….Hit him with the first pitch.

’21 A To Z Challenge – D

 

It was the dark of the moon on the 6th of June, in a Kenworth, haulin’ logs.
Actually, it wasn’t.  I only put that in because I just watched a YouTube video of C.W.McCall doing that old CB truckers’ song, Convoy.

It was dark and early Monday morning, two weeks ago.  The sun had not begun to complain about having to rise, to start another work-week for those lucky enough to still have jobs.  I had just published a ‘21 A To Z Challenge post for the letter C.

Remember, you need another post for D in two weeks, and you don’t have anything started.  You have a

DEADLINE

Deadline, schmedline….  That’s 14 days away.  I’ll come up with something.
Tuesday passed in a glorious flash of a Netflix movie and a bowl of popcorn, with a couple of books for a chaser.
Wednesday, I published a post with some words about words.
Deadline threw me a withering glance, like a woman scorned.
You do remember I’m here, don’t you??  You never do anything with me anymore!

I just had a look at Rochelle’s 100-word picture prompt.  I can’t do a thing with it.  I’ll have to figure something to post on Friday.  We’ll go dancing tomorrow, okay?

Thursday slipped into Friday, as I readied and published a back-patting, self-congratulatory post about reviewing another blogger’s book. I basked in the glow of admiration from thousands hundreds maybe 10 or 12 viewers, while Deadline paced back and forth, muttering about suing for alienation of affection.

THERE’S ALWAYS THE WEEKEND….  With 11 years of practice at being retired, the only way I even knew it was late-Sunday/early-Monday again, was that neighbors put out garbage.  I put ours out, and then published a comedy post.
Deadline built a voodoo doll, and was reading a book of incantations.

You know that there’s only one week left, right?  Get off your ass, and get on the keyboard.
That was the last pre-fabricated comedy post I had in reserve.  I’ll assemble 4 more from my Blog Notes stash of jokes tomorrow; then I’ll get right at that D post.

Tuesday – I had an inspiration, and started writing a post about polarization in American politics and religion.
Deadline – tick, tick, tick!!

Wednesday – I published a post with more words, about more words, and started another one to replace it.
DeadlineCan Archon come out and play?
I’m sorry.  He’s had one COVID shot, but apparently he’s suffering a bad case of procrastination.  I smacked him with a calendar, but he just sits there, looking even more stunned than usual.  Maybe tomorrow.

BANG, BANG BANG!!
Open up right now!  This is Deadline, and I have a warrant to search for any sign of a theme, or creative writing.
Thursday already??!  Why the Hell didn’t somebody tell me that I need a post ready by Sunday night?  None of the D words in my file seem appetizing.  I guess I’ll have to do another of those, “If you can’t fix it – Feature it” posts.  I could do one about meeting a deadline.

DeadlineBless you my son.  Say five Robert Heinleins, and have a bottle of sacramental wine while you compose.  You’re still a lazy ass – just not all the time.   😉   😳

Flash Fiction #254

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

DREAMS UP IN SMOKE

Cheryl offered to help him with his writing.  A couple who worked at the newspaper dropped by each Friday, and they often discussed the craft.  “Join us.”

The husband said the first thing they did, was smoke dope.  “It frees the creativity.”  He silently demurred, not for moral or legal reasons, but from skepticism.  He’d be the abstaining benchmark.  “I’ll get a beer and catch up.”

A Cheech and Chong blunt got passed around…. around…. and around.  Potatoes, motorcycles, redhead in sales, socks with sandals…. Bright topics bubbled into the conversation – and were immediately forgotten.

There was no creativity here.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.