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Mrs. Dash

Daily Promptcdd2c991-f5c4-4256-9ef3-cc4e09a0c738

     Suspicious? Yes, she is suspicious and had been for a while. There is that little twinkle in his eye when he smiles, and he smiles more checking a mirror constantly for food stuck in his teeth. The other day he said, “I’m thinking of whiting them.”

     She hears the outside door slam as he bounds up the steps to announce, “I’m home.”

     “I heard you coming.” She replies  and pulls the sheer window cover aside. A most attractive woman is standing in the rain. The young female, wearing  a spaghetti strap dress its fabric absorbing the sudden downpour, is twirling a large black umbrella. She has a Mona Lisa smile and dancer calf’s.

   “Come have a look, this woman has to be freezing and how can she walk in those heels?”

    “Only to make you happy. I have better things to do.” He says hanging  his jacket on a coat hook near the door.

     Together they peer out the water-speckled pane of glass his hands on her shoulders. “That’s Mrs. Dash.”

“Mrs. Dash, as in the salt replacement. You know her?”

“Yea, Mrs. Dash as in replace the salt. I don’t know if she owns the company, but she is your new neighbor.”

. . . . . Seriously Just saying


Vegetal Trump


What does it mean?

Vegetal implies something to do with vegetables, and or plants; as in big red tomato, or an oversized yam. Writers will interrupt the word, as either a verb or noun, although a dictionary defines vegetal as an adjective.

So why am I feeling mad at the mention of this word? I like vegetables and love plants.

A big red tomato, Donald Trump won!.

What the vegetal. I’m stunned and did not vote for him. However, I will root for him and hope the seeds planted grow into a hybrid unimagined by pundits, a plant with leaves of every color that capture the warmth and sun surrounding the universe and yield a bountiful harvest.

 . . . . Seriously Just Saying

Daily Prompt

Yippie Ki Yay Breakthrough


Photo By Nev P

Daily Prompt Breakthrough


Yippie Ki Yay!  A breakthrough, I am writing.

What happened? I had writers block, and touted this previously enjoyable pastime, tedious.

Well, Saturday evening between bites of bratwurst and sauerkraut, a friend commented that she missed my blog posts and enjoyed my writing.

Sunday morning I awoke to write something. I am ready to get back on my horse and go for a wild and crazy ride. You know what I am saying. I love to play with words, cut and paste incomplete sentences to make complete sentences and obsess over where to place the comma or maybe it should be a semicolon.  

My breakthrough . . . . listen to what I tell myself about a favorite activity, writing.

There is nothing more enjoyable than fixing a dangling participial.

. . . . Seriously just saying


Mommy’s Jumping Jelly Bean

thDaily Prompt; Write about your worst fear

A pounding heart filled this apprehension, trepidation and fear guides my outstretched fingers, almost touching but not reaching my daughter who is ever so near. She has climbed out a window, her chubby legs dangle enjoying the view. Her eyes twinkle and when she sees mommy, claps her hands repeatedly, as a two-year old will often do. I signal quiet with a finger to my lips as panic replaces subdue. Then shake and shiver petrified of any move. The drop is disastrous if not fatal, but not the only view.

Writing 101: Day 8 Death to Adverbs

Go to a public location and make a detailed report of what you see. The twist of the day? Write the post without adverbs.


Early Morning No Pay

A light rain mists the air, and moistens my skin as I step outside. The weatherman predicts heavy rain and flooding in southern parts of Florida. I hustle the block and a half to the beach. The cool air and overcast skies a relief from constant sunny skies. The waves are angry and slap the shore with determination leaving little space to walk.

There are other options, the hotel grounds, and lobby.

The bellman pulls the wood and glass door open and nods his head good morning. Inside the Mediterranean lobby is empty except for housekeeping.

It is early and an upright vacuum fueled by a long yellow cord sucks up the previous day’s activities. The staff member nods and shuts off the sweeper as I pass.

Someone else polishes the large floor to ceiling mirrors and tabletop glass.

The gift shop opens at 8:30 AM but on the coffee table is a generous pile of USA Newspapers for the taking.

My husband will feel lucky he does not have to pay.


. . . Seriously just saying

Writing 101 Day 5/ Before I Go

You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.

Today’s twist: Approach this post in as few words as possible.


Before I Go

Yesterday, I’m walking my dog, Fife, and Fife is pulling the leash way off the path going in circles, making me crazy, looking for just the right spot to do her you know what, and find an area that might make her happy, then starts scratching and pawing at the leaves only to uncover, an envelope addressed to Charles.

So after poop scooping Fife’s deposit, I examine the item.

The Charles, written in cursive with a black felt tip pen, has a romantic squiggle underneath. The seal is broken and a single page letter unfolds easily in my hands.

The letter reads:

Dear Charles,

        Before I go, I want you to know, and goes on to explain why she’s leaving.

Now I’m in a pickle, Charles would definitely want this letter back and Fife and I have a big decision to make.


Writing 101Day 4-Write about a loss

s2e084581-3bad-4f17-8a85-15cd7485eeacAuthor: Трахтенберг Михаил

(For today’s assignment I am taking Myra on a longer journey or series about loss of self. Myra appeared in Day 2 of Writing 101, the first two paragraphs are that post.)

A View of My Room

After dinner, Myra walks to the beach. Mahogany and apple green coleus, line the cement path along 16th road, and crêpe myrtle, provide shade. The sun is soft and will soon set. Low tide gives the shore width and Myra removes her sandals to feel the tepid water on her feet and walks.

The beach is empty and the waves peak white, then brush the water’s edge and provide an upbeat tempo that match her mood. This is as near to heaven as you can get, bad still exists.

Silly, it is silly to leave after all these years, but sillier to stay with who knows how many years left. He does not drink or womanize, pays the bills on time, and takes the garbage out in a timely fashion. Unlike Hillary Clinton, she could not boast, “He is the most fascinating man I know.” There was no reason to stand by her man.

An earlier disagreement over a wash bucket in the kitchen sink spurred her decision. A chartreuse green plastic bowl bought at the Dollar Store and his comment, “Why are you so stubborn?” Like a thorn in her side, needed removal.

When she cooked, he cleaned up and vice verse. Tonight, not saying a word he noisily shifted and tossed silverware, splashing water across the counter, his body language giving him away.

After water dribbled down a cabinet door, Myra said, “Sweetheart if the bowl is in your way, empty it, put it under the sink.” And repeated her previous explanation, “I like to use the bowl to hold water so I can rinse my hands or clean a sponge without running water, while cooking.”

His response, “Well, now I know,” as he emptied the bowl and set it on the counter with calculated force, wreaked of sarcasm.

On the counter, the textured bowl resembled a horn toed frog and Myra thought she heard a rib-bit sound, but did not. She put the bowl under the sink, and filled the void by saying, “Don’t be stubborn, if it annoys you don’t use it, please. . . just put it away.”

“You’re the one who’s stubborn, why do you insist on using it?” He said emphatically.

And so her decision was made.

Her mind is clear. She will leave tomorrow.


. . . Seriously just saying