Sometimes you just want breakfast for dinner


I have said this before and I’m sure I’ll say it many times again before they pry my cold, dead fingers from my laptop – I love to cook.  I find great pleasure in mixing flavors and trying new things (sans recipe – my dad would be proud).  Some of those things work and some don’t.  And since I referred to my dad, I will tell you that although he was a fabulous “do it yourself” cook, some recipes just didn’t have the desired effect once on the plate.  For those of you who have ever entertained the idea of scrambled eggs made with eggnog – Don’t Do It!!

I have worked in many restaurants from breakfast diners to fine dining restaurants and I had the foresight to pay attention to how each Chef took the time with their presentation. From swirls of Balsamic Reduction to the height they could achieve on a plate, every little nuance, every detail on that plate, made that dish even more special by enhancing the flavor.  It was food for the eyes as well as the palette.  The term “Amuse Bouche” delighted me.   When a single, delectable morsel became the new trend at the beginning of a meal, I was taken with its modesty in size but explosion of flavor.

eggs in nests

(image credit)

I do my best to amuse my bouche every time I create my feasts, whether it is for company or simply for myself.   But sometimes, on those rare nights you just want to curl up under a blanket with an intriguing book, there is nothing better than a good breakfast for dinner.  Those recognizable morning food items are the epitome of comfort food.  Sizzling homemade pork sausage patties and the perfect fried egg were the perfect end to my day, especially since the eggs were nestled in a bed of potato pancakes.  Simple, delicious and just what the bookworm in me required for the perfect night.  My bouche is amused and it is time to find out who Darwin really is!!

When a wish really comes true


My last post seemed to send an abundant amount of energy into the ethers.  I awoke with a very sore throat and headache the morning following the post about Newton’s laws and found my health steadily declining throughout the morning.  My energy was sapped, I was, in fact, lethargic, and my legs felt like lead as they slowly carried me to my car after I was told to go home and have a nap.

I crawled into bed at just before 2:00 pm with an alarm set to call in to work to let them know how I was.  My physical situation at 4:30 pm was no better so I was told to stay home and rest.  I don’t think any of us had a clue what that really meant.  My exhaustion was so far advanced that I actually slept for 24 hours!

Newton was correct in his theory that an object at rest tends to remain at rest.  There were a few times I became partially conscious, only to realize my dog was three inches from my face.  She was undoubtedly checking to see if I was still breathing and, once she ascertained my level of cognizance, asked me to let her out.  With a few breaks during that 24-hour period for bathroom trips for myself and my dog, I finally really awoke at 2:40 pm the next day.


Had I known the power of a wish in the Blogosphere could be granted so quickly, I may have rethought my wish for a lottery win instead of a 24-hour mini-coma.  At least I feel much more rested….and there is always a wish for the next lottery draw if anyone up there is still listening!!





Sailing into a storm

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I felt it.

Like the prickling of goosebumps,

I sensed the energy was different yesterday.

There were no warnings,

there was no black cloud in the sky,

but the winds of my day shifted

and my boat pitched on the stormy sea of Sunday.

Waves threatened to pull me into the angry water

but I held fast to my rudder

trying to steer myself to the calmness in the distance.

 Energy that surrounded me

knocked the hull of my sanctity

sending me further off my course.

When I finally reached the safe shore of my home,

the voyage of my day settled.

The wind no longer pushed me away from myself

and my calm found me again,

settled in for the night

and lulled me back into happiness.


I’ll show you a full moon!


Yesterday was an interesting day.  The energy in my work space was charged with an unknown element and the entire day felt like I was living in an alternate universe.  People were doing inane things, the simplest conversation turned into a painful thirty minute ordeal and the tension could have been cut by nothing less than a chainsaw.  My rhetorical question was to ask, “is it a full moon?” and the response was an embellished “yes”.

Although there is no direct correlation between the phases of the moon and human behavior, the full moon gives human beings a fantastic excuse for acting like idiots.  The blame is put solely on the celestial orb, taking the onus from the one acting completely out of character but, when the sky is dark, strange behavior is accepted as exactly that with no other plausible justification.

full moon

 (image credit)

Many of our references to luck, or the lack thereof, are written in the stars.  We wish on a falling star.  Our horoscopes are creatively tied to constellations in the sky.  And we blame a magical orb of light for any unfavorable happenings during the phase in which it finds its truest beauty.

On those days that society deems the moon to be the cause of all of its woes,  the child who still resides in my mind hopes that the fantasy man who inhabits that enchanting sphere is truly giving us the full moon.

Starting the morning on the right four feet


I wake up the same way each morning.  In the lighter moments of my sleep, when dawn pours its light into my curtain-free windows to caress my eyelids, four paws stealthily creep up to the side of my bed.  A long furry nose rests itself on the bed and two large brown stare at me until I crack open one eye to acknowledge her presence.   The tail wags and the rest of the body jumps up onto the bed to assume her spot in the window.


She is intelligent enough to know that seeing only one eyeball means there are still snooze buttons to be utilized and she will participate in the morning naps as well.  This morning she curled into a ball at the end of the bed and, like a good dog, quickly fell into slumber.

I awoke to the sound of her tail hitting the bed.  I opened that single eyelid again, for fear of beginning our morning too early, to find that she was still sound asleep and apparently having a very happy dream.  I am a morning person and usually begin my day in a good mood.  It’s nice to know my puppy does the same thing.


Yes Charlie Brown, happiness really is a warm blanket


Our friends are like blankets.   They can be an endless string of material woven together with such strength that they completely envelope us or they can be an array of tattered old pieces of what once was a blanket, holding desperately to the strength they once had but unable to fully cover us when we really need it.  Regardless of whether the blanket is old or new, the heart of the fiber is still created from the same cloth and still retains the ability to protect a portion, if not all, of us.


Over time, it is inevitable that some cloth becomes distorted from its original plush appearance, but if you delve into memories of that blanket, you can hold on to the soothing feelings you once got from it and realize that it did everything in its power to keep you warm and protected.  It can evoke a feeling as strong as a childhood sense of urgency to hold on to a security blanket.


(image credit)

Some blankets are indestructible.   Although time may march over that blanket a thousand times, its resolve to stay in its original shape is overwhelming.  It is always consoling when you need to seek comfort, it is never in a place you cannot find it and it will always be big enough to cover all of you.  On very rare occasions, a blanket can be unintentionally neglected but when you rediscover that unique blend of interlaced textiles, you cherish the true strength of those fabrics and know they will never unravel.  Once you wrap yourself in that blanket again it is like coming home but after never really having been away.


I am thankful for all of my blankets – the old, the new and the recently rediscovered.  Every fiber of material that makes up those blankets has offered me comfort at some point in my life and I hope my blanket has done the same for them.  I can always take solace in the fact that the material they are made of is genuine and it is readily available whenever I need to feel soothed on those stormy nights.

Of Mice and Men in the attic – fiction



After hearing the word mispronounced, with the emphasis on the wrong syllable, she had an idea of what to do with the wretched people who would not allow her solace.  Fanatic – indeed they were.  They camped out in her driveway, followed her everywhere but, one by one, they became smaller in numbers.  Her “fan-attic”, mind you, was becoming rather full.  She hoped the smell would dissipate.


66 Word Micro-Fiction written for the Chimera Challenge at Grammar Ghoul Press.  This week’s challenge is to write a piece using the word ‘Fanatic’ – noun – a person with an extreme and uncritical enthusiasm or zeal.  (image credit)