Politics: What’s Words With Friends Got To Do With It?

The 2016 election was a soul sucker. It was like carrying a baby for nine months and after 36 hours of labor having the doctor announce, “Congratulations, it’s a full grown rattlesnake!” 

On the one hand, you’re glad it’s all over, while on the other hand you wonder how long it’ll be before your baby delivers the lethal bite. Ah! Good times. 


Thank goodness for diversions like Words With Friends. Currently I have 21 games in progress, and any time there’s a lull in the action I start another one. Right now, I don’t even care if I win or lose. It’s the distraction from current events that counts.

The president-elect names a white supremacist as his chief strategist and senior counselor? I find a way to play a word containing both z and v.

A woman who doesn’t support public schools is named Secretary of Education? No worries, I play “teazles” for 182 points, and I don’t care that I have no idea what it means!*

I hear that Trump is refusing to take security briefings? Ok, I cried, but then I went on to play “equinoxes” and temporarily forgot that we have elected a lightweight to the highest office in the free world.

Reality bites right now. I think I’ll go start another game.

*verb archaic: 

teazle 

1. raise a nap on (cloth) with or as if with teasels.

The Sewing Circle

The Sewing Circle
by Leslie Noyes

Friends of a feather
Gathered closely together
Nimble fingers poised


A work in progress
Stitches in red, white, and blue
Most, perfectly spaced


“Janis, there’s a hitch
In the shape of your last stitch.”

“No, that clump is trump.”


My Accomplishments

Sometimes one must toot one’s own horn lest it go untooted:

1) I pulled together an incredible Thanksgiving Day meal.

2) Neither Studly Doright nor I have developed any signs of food poisoning.

3) I took the best nap of my entire life. Thanks L-Tryptophan!

4) I have single handedly consumed an entire bottle of wine today and am sober as a judge.

Now I sit with Studly watching the Dallas Cowboys play the evil Washington Redskins as I contemplate my plans for tomorrow. Should I venture out into Black Friday crowds? Only fools venture where angels fear to tread. But, I’m no angel, and there’s always more wine.

Peace, people.

 

A Tragedy in One Ridiculously Short Act

Characters:
Rob Moore: husband/father
Shelley Moore: wife/mother
Randy and Jill Moore: Offspring of the above
Gate Attendant
Mr. O’Rourke, supervisor

Setting: Dublin airport. Chicago departure gate, summer 2018.

Scene: The Moore family hurries through the Dublin airport to catch a flight home after two weeks vacationing in Ireland. They’re an ordinary middle class family exhausted after the adventure of a lifetime.

Rob (yawns): C’mon everyone. Here are your passports. Randy, got your stuffed leprechaun?

Randy: Yup! Hey can we rent a movie?
Rob (rumpling his son’s hair): We’ll see. I’m betting you sleep the whole way!

Shelley: Honey, check the kids in. I need to grab some ibuprofen before we board. I’ll be right behind you.

Rob: Make it quick, hon. Jill, stop sulking, put your phone in your bag and get in line.

Jill (dragging her feet): I don’t want to go!

Rob (smiling indulgently): That’s what you said when we left Chicago. 

The family, minus Shelley, boards the plane. Shelley finds the closest kiosk and purchases a mild pain reliever. She returns to the boarding line.

Gate Attendant: Passport and boarding pass, please.

Shelley (smiling): Here you go.

Gate Attendant (frown): Mrs. Moore, can I get you to step aside?

Shelley: Um, sure, but my family is already on the plane….

Gate Attendant (motions to a supervisor): Mr. O’Rourke, could you check Mrs. Moore’s identification?

Mr. O’Rourke (smiling): Certainly. Come with me, please, Mrs. Moore. 

Shelley: But….

Mr. O’Rourke: Just a matter of clarification. Let me look up your information. (Punches information into computer) 

Mr. O’Rourke: Oh.

Shelley: Oh, what?

Mr. O’Rourke: You’ve been flagged as a possible terrorist. 

Shelley (looks down at her mom jeans and Coexist tshirt.): Honestly? Do I LOOK like a terrorist?

Mr. O’Rourke: Well, to be honest Mrs. Moore you look perfectly reputable to me, but have you by any chance registered as a Muslim in the past year or so.

Shelley: I did. I’m a Christian, but I wanted to stand up to Trump and his crazy Islamaphobia. 

Mr. O’Rourke: Ah. I see. Could you step behind the screen here for just a minute?

Shelley (following request): Sure, but…Wait!

Muffled Bang

Mr. O’Rourke (Coming out from behind the screen): Shame about all those Americans.

Gate Attendant: Indeed. But the Trump Foundation is paying such a good bounty on each head. 

On board the plane the remainder of the Moore family has gotten settled into their seats and immediately fallen asleep for the long flight to Chicago. 

THE END

Cooking for Studly: Thanksgiving for Two

Those of you who are new to my blog might not realize that I have a life outside of bashing our president-elect, but I do! I live with my husband, Studly Doright, and our two feline supervisors, Scout and Patches, in our own little piece of paradise that I like to call Doright Manor.

We have two perfect children and five absolutely superior grandchildren (funny how that works, seeing as how Studly and I just barely peek over the average range), but they live far away from our home outside of Tallahassee, Florida.

Studly and I were high school sweethearts in Texas, and in forty years of marriage we’ve moved 14 times, lived in five different states, and I’ve lost count of the number of homes we’ve shared. We aren’t retired yet, but it’s number one on our bucket list.

Studly married me thinking I’d turn out to be a great cook like his mom (Saint Helen) or my mom, (Gingymama), but I had neither the aptitude nor the attitude to develop into much more than a mediocre heater upper. Poor, poor Studly.

Twice a year, though, I focus all of my energies into cooking a kick ass holiday meal. I plan and prepare and check ingredients off of lists and shop and preheat–all the necessary stuff. Sometimes, it all turns out perfectly. Other times we pretend. Wine helps.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day here in the US. So today I’m baking a pecan pie, hard boiling eggs, and making cornbread. Doright Manor smells amazing. I’ll arise early tomorrow to prep and roast a turkey, make cornbread dressing, a fruit salad, and deviled eggs, along with Studly’s favorite green bean casserole (ugh!) and cranberry sauce. With any luck neither of us will need to pretend that it tastes great. Again, wine helps.

It’s just going to be the two of us for dinner, well and the cats, but I’m thankful that we are healthy and have each other. I’m most thankful that at Christmas we’ll get to see our kids, grandkids, and Saint Helen, when we congregate in Nashville, Tennessee, for a family holiday extravaganza.

Now, the smoke alarm hasn’t sounded even once this morning, so all is well at Doright Manor. I’d best go, though, and open a bottle of wine. Just in case.

Peace, and Happy Thanksgiving, people.

A “Must Read” Award

Every now and then I’m nominated for an award on WordPress. The first time this happened I was all aglow. What an honor! And truly, it’s always an honor for someone to consider my humble little blog worth a mention.

But the awards come with rules:

Nominate 5 or 8 or 135 bloggers and link to them.

Answer a dozen questions.

Thank people.

Stand on your head and wiggle your toes while whistling “Yankee Doodle.”

And while I might’ve made that last one up, the sad truth is I’m a lousy rule follower, and the last few times I’ve found myself a nominee I have politely excused myself from the game.

 So I thought, what if I just  made up my own award? With no rules, only a suggestion. Ta da! It’s the “Must Read” award. I’m awarding it to Mike Steeden, one of the most imaginative writers I follow. He is a quirky genius with a flair for the absurd, writing a mixture of prose and poetry that I find delightful. I highly suggest you read Mike’s blog:

https://mikesteeden.wordpress.com/2016/11/20/the-collector-of-memories/#like-4919
The only suggestion attached to this award is that Mike might give out his own “Must Read” Award to anyone (other than me) that he absolutely thinks others will enjoy. Since I faithfully follow Mike’s blog perhaps I’ll pick up a new author to follow, as well. 

So go on now. Read Mike’s blog. Thank me later. 

Disclaimer: I’m sorry if there’s already a must read award out there. My lack of originality is appalling in that case.