brisk

you confuse me. all gregarity and flirtatiousness one moment, blustery cold and brisk the next... i feel like i'm friends with an entire carousel full of yous, never knowing which one of you will come round the corner next. some days i bet with myself. today will be boisterous you. truculent you. sly and boastful you. jubilant you. shy and surprisingly genuine you. if only i knew which to expect, i would know how to act. if only i knew which you to expect, i could fashion a me to match. a me who would say all the right things. one who would never hit conversational sour notes or have foolish slips of the tongue. a me you would think is witty and playful and pensive and reserved in all the right moments. a me you'd never tire of. a me you couldn't forget. a me you'd be drawn to cruelly, relentlessly, inexorably through each minute of each day. a me you'd miss desperately. inconsolably. without end.

scrunch

i like scrunch. because it reminds me of lunch. except i don't like lunch. cuz lunch makes me fat. and drowsy. and then i wake up, and the day has passed me by.

oh well. at least i have a cute puppy.

snowflake

Alright, alright. Huddle up, team. Here's the game plan. We'll start with some light freezing rain over Tahoe for a warmup, then step it up a notch with some scattered flurries over Seattle. Then we'll blow over into Canada and get down to business. We're scheduled to deliver at least 6 inches of snow in Vancouver and Toronto, and a small blizzard in Calgary.

Look, I know this is just a scrimmage, but I want you guys to train hard, the winter games are just a few months away, and we're gonna need all the practice we can get. Those Midwest Tempests have been intolerable since we let them walk away with the Championship last year.

I want Frostbite on lookout. Ice Cube, you're in charge of logistics. Make sure Snowshoe brings plenty of extra ammo. Speaking of which, where is Snowshoe? Snowshoe?

Oh for the love of- stop chasing those ski bunnies! How such a complete snow-flake managed to make the team, I'll never know.

scratch

Seriously? Seriously? I can't believe you already ruined your phone! I just got that for you! You've literally had it for less than 48 hours. I told you to be extra careful until the case came in. Do you have any idea how much that thing cost?

Baby. Baby! Relax! It's just a scratch, see? Just a little scratch.

Just a scratch? JUST A SCRATCH?!? I'll show you just a scratch, buster.

dripping

"Mind if I sit a while with you, Uncle?"

The old man squinted up at me from his seat against the cliff face, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. "Water?"

I dropped my dust-caked canteen into his lap, easing myself down next to him as he pulled off the cap and guzzled greedily. Water trickled out the corner of his mouth, coursing down his chin to splash on the scorched rock at our feet. I settled back against the cliff, letting the heat from the rock diffuse the knots in my shoulders. A gust of wind whistled down the dark, narrow crack in the cliff face next to us and chilled me to the bone in spite of the desert heat pressing upon me from all sides.

He stopped for air, and I could hear his shallow panting. "What are you doing out here, Uncle? This is no place for an old man."

"I am waiting. For her." He pointed out across the sand, and I turned, peering into the distance. A roiling grey-green cloud sat just above the heat haze along the horizon. "She is a thing of beauty, is she not? I am going to race her, one last time." He gestured toward the crack in the cliff.

I watched, aghast, as the leviathan raced toward us across the hot desert. I turned to look up the long, narrow chimney. "It's too late, old man. You'll never make it!" I yelled over the roar of the oncoming storm.

He cackled. "No! It is too soon! We wait! We wait until it starts dripping. Until the very edge of her is overhead." Fat droplets of water started to splat down about us as he spoke. "Here she comes! Climb for your life, boy!" Swinging into the crack, he braced himself against the smooth walls and started to scuttle up, faster than I could have imagined he would be.

I scrambled after him. "Wait! Uncle! Have you ever won before?"

A gleeful chortle ricocheted down the chute. "Never! Down she comes and washes me out, time after time. But not today! Today I will win her at last!"

soup

Now the most important step to making a really great soup is preparing the stock. Seaweed and some salt make a great, savory stock. We'll just bring some water to boil, and then stir in the seaweed, salting generously. Now set that on the back burner to simmer, while we prepare the vegetables. We'll need some sweet spring carrots, small golden potatoes, and, of course, celery, all cut into medium sized chunks. By now the stock should be just about ready, giving off a nice, fragrant steam. We'll add in the stew beef, and then the vegetables, and then cook on medium heat until the potatoes are just done. You can test this by sticking them with a butter knife. If the potato slips back off the knife, it is done. And there you have it, a hearty homemade beef and vegetable soup, great for winter days or convalescents!

"Sandy! Sandy! Time for din-- ugh, that's gross. How many times have I told you not to play with mud?! It's dirty!"

"I was making soup! For Mama!"

leotard

"Come along, Leo, we'll be late for Emmy's lesson!" Leo dragged his paws all the way to the car. Emmy was already in the back, bouncing up and down on the seat in her fluffy pink tutu. 

"Come on, Leo! Gonna be late! Gonna be late!" Emmy giggled, banging the window with her ballet slippers. Leo sneered at her and slunk into the front seat, frowning sullenly as their mother started the car and backed out into the street. He slouched even further when they passed a group of kids from school playing football on the sidewalk. They drove the two short blocks to the studio, with Emmy babbling and blowing bubbles against the windows the whole way.

Emmy's friend Rachel was at the front door with her mother and a cluster of ballet moms. Leo grumbled to himself as his mom stopped to talk, nodding to him to take his sister inside while she caught up on the latest gossip with the ladies. He walked Rachel in to her class, helping her slip on her ballet shoes before she bounced off to join the gaggle of little cubs in matching pink tutus. Turning to duck out the door, his eyes caught on a taller, slimmer figure in a demure wraparound skirt.

"Alright girls, warm ups, and then we'll try something a little fun, like this!" Leo's breath caught as she twirled on one hindpaw, her tail draped elegantly across one forepaw and her other leg extended in a graceful arabesque. His legs kept moving on their own, and next thing he knew, he'd tripped over the metal ballet barres next to the door, bringing them crashing down about him. The dancer came to an abrupt halt, peering toward him as the class burst out into giggles.

Emmy stuck her tongue out at him. "You're a Leo-tard!"

chomp

I am, apparently, the tastiest human being in Hong Kong. My grandma says it's because I wear shorts, but that's just the old-fashioned talking. Plenty of other people wear shorts, but I am still the only one sporting angry red mosquito bites all over my legs. (Twenty-five on my right leg, twelve on my left. I counted) And anyway, I can't wear jeans, I am already dying in shorts and a tank top, while the locals thronging around me in the streets walk by in jeans and cardigans like it's not 97 degrees out with 90 percent relative humidity.

The streets are so crowded my hand sometimes swings into someone else's, and I find myself accidentally holding hands with random people for just an instant as we brush past each other. I feel sticky everywhere, which just makes the itching even harder to bear. I long to stop and scratch, but it's too crowded, and I don't want people looking at me funny. It's no use anyway, people walking by give me the up and down, stopping short when they see my red polka dot legs. If only they knew, I am delicious. I am the one to chomp. Apparently.

snack

Hey Mike! Are you ready? Are you ready? 

So what are we doing today, Mike? Huh? What are we doing? Going on the hunt? Knocking some heads? Making some headlines? I can see it all now, we're gonna be a famous duo, like Batman and Robin. Two hunters on the prowl, Crazy Mike and his sidekick, Jumping Julius. CM and JJ, fighting crime and keeping it real.  Mike and Julius, the coolest cats in town. Big Mike and the J-ster, taking it back to the styles. It's gonna be awesome!

So what's the plan, Mike? Huh? What's the plan? 

I'm ready to go, I been training, I got ninja moves! 

Like watch this new move I made, Mike! I call it The Snack. 

Stands for sneak attack! Get it? Get it? 

Hey, where you going Mike? Huh? Where you going? Hey, wait up Mike! 

plastic

Wow, I can't believe you actually agreed to go on a date with me! So what movie do you feel like?

...

Thor? 

...

Fast Five? 

...

The new Pirates movie?

...

You don't say much, do you ?

...

That's okay, I dig the whole quiet, beautiful girl with a mystery thing. I'm actually kind of a strong silent type myself.

...

You, uh... really don't say much, huh? 

...

You're so beautiful. You're, like, perfect. Really, really perfect.

...

Uh, you haven't had any work done, have you?

...

What?!? You're all plastic? Like, everything? I mean, everything? I don't know if I'm okay with that.

...

porcupine

did you know? porcupines are chubby. they are too big to be cute, but not big enough to be scary. also they have lots of long spiky spines on their butts that make it hard to sit down.

sometimes, i wish i were a hedgehog.

charred

It's George!

What's he saying?

I can't quite make it out... it sounds like... charge?

What did you say?

Charge! 

Okay guys, that's the signal! CHARRRRRGE!!!

OH NO!!! DRAGON!! Retreat, retreat!!! 

WTH George! You could have warned us about the dragon!

I Did! I said I got charred!!!

fuzz

Jane crept down the sidewalk, mumbling a piece of coffee cake from the corner cafe. The little blonde girl who closed down at night always left her something nice on the back step. Sometimes it was day old pastries, or a broken cookie. Once she'd left an entire slice of chocolate raspberry cake. Jane had saved it, eating just a little piece of it each day, making it last as long as she could. And there was always a cup of coffee, still warm if she was lucky. It was her first stop of the night.

Sidling up to the window of a candy store two blocks down, Jane slipped between the bars of the gating and jiggled the window pane she'd worked to loosened over the past week. Setting the glass gently down on the concrete, she clambered over the sill and into the darkened shop beyond. She flitted between the shelves loaded with candy, moving toward the back shelf where streetlight glinted off beady glass eyes. There were solemn bears with incongruous hot pink bows, giraffes and ducks and myriads of kittens and puppies.  She greeted them each in turn. Which to rescue? Moving up and down along the shelf uncertainly, she stared into each furry face before finally settling on a staid old gentleman bear whose bowler hat was perched rakishly over one ear. 

Fingering the fuzz on his nose, Jane whispered to him of freedom from oppression, of the role that awaited him in the resistance, as she climbed out the window, pushing the glass pane back into place. Scuttling down the street, she ducked as a car swept by, hiding her face from the lights. A siren sounded in the distance, and she scurried faster, at last reaching the corner cafe and turning sharply into the alley behind it. Hurrying to the far corner of the blind alley, she crawled behind the dumpster into a narrowed out space between two buildings. With a happy chirp, she turned on the flashlight she'd hung from a bent nail sticking out of the wall, casting light onto the silent host of animals crowding every spare nook and corner of the tiny space.

"Everyone, this is Fuzz. He's very tired from the escape, but he's safe now with us. What's that Ellen? No, don't worry, there are militia everywhere, but I made sure we weren't followed. For now we should just lay low until they've given up for the night. We'll go on another recon tomorrow."

Chris tossed the last few dishes in the washer and swiped at the counter with the dishrag. "I'm out, Janie. Don't forget to lock up on your way out. And don't let Dot catch you leaving stuff out for that crazy or she'll fire you yesterday."

"I know. I just want don't want her to starve, you know?" Janie emptied the last pot of coffee into a cup and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the counter. Swinging the trash bags over her shoulder, she walked out the back and set the coffee and muffin on the step before locking the door. Her mother honked, waiting out front in their blue Datsun, and she dropped the bags into the dumpster on her way to the car. 

"How was work, baby?" 

"Long. How come you're driving daddy's car today?" Janie pulled Reginald into her lap, stroking his pink fuzzy nose as she rummaged through the glove compartment for a stick of gum. She frowned as a picture of a girl in a pink jumpsuit clutching a faded blue teddy bear fell out onto her lap. "Who's this?"

"Oh, that's your grandmother. Your dad's mother."

"I never knew I had another grandma! I thought it was just Gramma Amy."

"Well you've never met her. She was a photojournalist. She went missing somewhere in the Middle East when your dad was still young. I hear she used to collect stuffed animals too. You're named after her, actually."

crinkle

Katie grinned when she opened her pink plastic lunchbox. Grandma Kate's crinkle cookies were her favorite! She carefully set them to one side and unwrapped the tuna sandwich, kicking her feet happily as she munched on it. She squeezed the last few drops out of her juice box and reached for the baggy of cookies, pulled out just one and broke off a small piece. They were perfect, as usual, crispy, dusty outside and gooey on the inside. She popped the piece into her mouth and licked powdered sugar off her fingertips. 

"Hey, Crinkleface! Did you just eat one of my cookies?" She looked up just in time to see Mary's chubby paw snatching the baggy of cookies. 

"No, please! Give them back! I promise I'll give you the rest of my desserts for a whole week, just give back my crinkle cookies!" Katie reached for the baggy, dangling from Mary's hand as she stuffed two cookies into her mouth at once.

"Eeuck, these aren't even good!" Mary spat a mouthful of chewed cookie onto Katie's dress and dropped the rest on the floor, grinding them flat with her heel. She shoved Katie to the lunch room floor "Tomorrow's cookies had better be good, or else!"

Katie moped her way through the rest of the day, even through Math class, her favorite. She moped during recess and on the bus. She moped all the way home, too sad to notice the ambulance parked in front of the house, or that the front door was ajar, until she walked into the living room full of people. "Mommy? Are we having company? Where's Grandma?"

"Oh, honey," her mother picked her up. "Grandma Kate's gone." 

"Oh. When is she coming back? Mommy, why are you crying?

head cheese

Aaaaand, here we are live from Janesville, Wisconsin, where we are following what is now the last day of the Wisconsin Miss Piggy Pageant. There has been some fierce competition so far, and we can only expect tensions to rise as today goes on. Who do you have your money on, Rick? 

Well, Amelia, I have to say, there have been some upsets! Of course Miss Wisconsin is the favorite. She has the home team advantage, having grown up pitching hay and mucking out pigsties on her daddy's farm right here in Janesville. I would have thought Minnesota and Iowa would have lasted further than the second day, but it was not a shocker to see New York drop out during the hogtie in the first round. 

You're right, Rick, I don't know if I was more embarrassed for her when she face-planted in the manure, or when that piglet ran up her skirt! But I have to say, the real surprise has been Miss Hawaii. She looks so dainty and yet she handled the hogtie, the sty cleaning, and even the butchering like a pro.

Well, Amy, can I call you Amy? With only three contestants left in the running, it all comes down to the final surprise event today. And here is last year's winner of the Miss Piggy Pageant, Miss Judy Boar from Idaho, to unveil the final event, and it looks like... Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the final event of this year's Miss Piggy Pageant is preparing head cheese!

Now what exactly is head cheese, Rick? I've seen it at the deli and always been afraid to try it, but- ugh, what is that they're bringing out? Pig's heads?!

That's right Amy, head cheese is not a cheese! It is actually a meat jelly made from boiling a pig's head and then combining the resulting congealed gelatin with the flesh from the pig's head. 

That is... I think I'm going to be sick just from the description! 

Aaand, they're off! Miss Wisconsin is taking the lead, cutting the flesh from the pig's face. Miss Hawaii is a close second, and oh! It looks like Miss Virginia is unable to continue. Medics are leading her off the stage before she vomits on the meat. We are down to our two final contestants. Miss Hawaii is pulling ahead, already done pulling the brains and eyeballs out and cutting off the ears, she is now boiling water to prepare the jelly. Miss Wisconsin is slowing down, it looks like she's gotten the brains cleared out but is stalling on the eyeballs, and... oh no! Miss Wisconsin has backed away from the table! It seems she just can't bring herself to rip out the eyes. And it looks like we have a winner! Miss Hawaii is Miss Piggy 2011!!!

 Rick? Rick? Are you... oh, that is just great. Seriously? You just had to throw up on my Louboutins. 

seriously though. i want a pair of louboutins.

Desert survival tip #41
A lampshade makes a good visor.

lamp shade?

Genie? I'm ready for my third wish!
It's no use Al, there're no wishes left in this lamp - it's a shade of the lamp it used to be.

lampshade

“Hey, Luke! This is the last- eww!” A family of silverfish skittered away from the overturned box, disappearing beneath the scattered contents and settling dust. Andy attacked the bugs with a handful of kleenex, turning over a stale packet of menthol lights and a worn leather wallet.

She shook a squirming thing out of the pages of a notepad, knocking over the miniature lamp still sitting in the box. She paused, tracing the well-worn inscription engraved along the base of the lamp. The letters were illegible, blurred through the years, but she’d long since memorized them. For you, kiddo. ~S.

“Baby, come on, yard sales are for getting rid of crap, not keeping it.” Luke frowned at the mess on the floor as he walked in from the garage.

“Just give me a se…minute.” She tried to shove him out the door, holding the lamp behind her.

“You still have that? Seriously, Andy, it’s time to forget about him. Our entire families are flying in for a wedding. Ours. Next week.”

“I know, I know, I just forgot I had it. Honest! See?” The lamp slipped from her fingers and smashed into the linoleum. “All gone.” She grinned at him.

“Cheeky to the end.” He shook his head and walked back out.

 Andy made a face and muttered under her breath as she bent to sweep up the lamp shards. “Meh meh meh! Look at me! I’m Luke!”  She snagged the lampshade to catch the debris and stopped, eyes widening, as something scrawled just inside the rim caught the sunlight slanting in through the blinds.

* * *

“Uh, hey is this for sale?” Luke glanced at the mismatched chess set. “Let me check real quick. Andy? Are we selling this?” … “Hang on a sec.” He walked back into the house. “Andy?” He frowned as he scanned the room. Closet, mess, broken lamp, note on the desk, no Andy. No Andy? He read the note. Sorry Luke, it has to be Sam after all. Don’t hate me. ~Andy. He blinked. The scribbled words in the upturned lampshade winked up at him from the floor. Love you, maybe. ~S.

Team Luke!

Team Sam!

pizza

greasy cheesy pizza
i didn't even want you
i wish i were an octopus
so i could undo eating you

stupid john lee. stop buying pizza!

coffee

i like coffee. i like watching dark streamlets of espresso dribbling into a waiting shot glass, to be tipped into a steaming cup of frothy white milk. i like wrapping my hands around it and letting its heat suffuse into my fingers through the thin paper sleeve. i like letting the first humid whiff of it curl up to engulf my face and fill my lungs with its sweet, seductive aroma. and as i walk away, i like the thump of the handle against the counter as someone knocks the used grounds  into the trash.

how do you explain what coffee smells like?!