Yesterday, I went to the store with the intention of buying three specific items. I took a list. This is a tool people my age use when they can’t remember what they had for breakfast. Just for the record, I had sausage, or ham, or maybe bacon. With egg and cheese on an English muffin, or a biscuit, or was it toast? Who cares? The point is, I had a list!
A list may sound confining, but mine was filled with freedom. I could add up to eight more items and still qualify for the Express Lane. Naturally, I took advantage of this by adding a few non-essentials like cookies, potato chips, and beer. After a two-hour ordeal in the Express Lane, I finally made it home with my purchases.
“Where are the three items I asked you to pick up?” said Connie, after rummaging through the Fast & Friendly bags. “I thought you had a list.” ~ OY!
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our expert on 100 Word memory joggers is Alexis Trebek Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
I began growing dumber the moment our children turned 13. This rapid declined continued until I achieved the status, “Dumber than a rock.”
When dealing with rocks, I’ve discovered they are extremely stubborn. I tried praise and encouragement. The rock refused to budge. When that didn’t work, I resorted to screaming, cursing and name-calling.
After pondering the intellect of rocks, I came to the conclusion they are not stupid, just strong-willed.
Teenagers may think they have all the answers, but they’ll find it’s like banging their head against a stone wall when they try to match wits with a rock.
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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