Friday has snuck up on me once again. I think that starting next week, I'll go back (way, way back) to posting on Saturday since that seems to be what I'm doing in any case. For tonight, I'll put Mr. Linky and next week's words up and post my exercises tomorrow (hopefully).
SATURDAY, 5:30 pm: Done. This was a touch batch of words. I think next week's may be worse. Time will tell, I guess.
Words for this week's 10-word challenge: wonderful, open to interpretation, war and peace, grow, glowing embers, hummingbirds, a loaf of bread, careful, snoop And for the mini: signals, spelling, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, snow storm, grace
Grace Torgenson carefully removed the freshly baked loaf of bread from the wood fired oven, savoring the smell of the bread and the warmth of kitchen in the chilly house. She added a couple of additional logs to the glowing embers and watched them slowly blaze into flame. Despite the cold and inconvenience, she was secretly thrilled to be trapped in this old estate by the unexpected blizzard. Negotiations with the two embassadors had not been going well and they each had threatened to bolt at least once over the course of the previous two days. She was hoping that they would take discussions of war and peace more seriously without the distractions of electricity and telephones. She felt a bit like it was divine intervention that even the cell phone signals had been blocked - at least for the moment - by the massive snow storm. Snooping through the cabinets in the kitchen, she found a set of china plates decorated with hummingbirds and placing the sliced up loaf of bread on one of them, carried it out to the next room where she found the politicians and their staffs gathered. "Good morning, gentlemen. A little sustenance to see us through. There's more in the kitchen, including an effort at coffee, which I can't promise will be palatable. But I tried. Here is the situation. On the down side, we are trapped here for the unforseeable future. On the up side, there is nothing to distract you from making an effort to come to some agreement. We have choices. We can see this as a dreadful inconvenience or as a wonderful opportunity for you to grow closer to an agreement. I opt for the latter, myself. Let's put another log on the fire, break bread together and begin spelling out what each of you truly needs to come to some kind of agreement for the good of your own people and the rest of the world. What I'm going to say next may be open to interpretation (or not), but you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. My staff have taken custody of all the wood and food in the house.and I have the keys to the kitchen, so from now on, you can either work together or get hungry and cold together. My staff and I will be warm and well fed whatever you gentlemen decide. If you think I am kidding, you are mistaken. Enjoy your breakfast." Telling the story years later, she admitted that it had been an enormous gamble on her part and that she was stunned by her own temerity. It was something about the house she said and her sense that the storm had been a divine intervention. In any case, whether she had been right or wrong, it had worked out and the resulting treaty was so much better than anyone had expected, that even the ambassadors had forgiven her.
Grace Spelling looked out at the after math of last night's snow storm and was happy to see her handsome neighbor, shovel in hand, waving from across the street. She had a terrible crush on him, but was never sure whether he felt anything in return. To say that he gave mixed signals was to put it mildly indeed. Bounding across to her door, he beamed happily at her. "Would you like me to clear your snow for you, Grace? Glad to do it for you on a 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," basis. I shovel show and you make me some hot cocoa and a hearty breakfast. Do we have a deal?" "Sounds like a double win for me, George" she smiled, her heart beating a little faster. "I get my snow shoveled and good company to share a meal with." "Okee Dokee," he responded, with not a hint of flirtation in his voice. Sighing she turned back into the house and began to prepare a meal that she hoped might open his heart as well as satisfy his stomach.
Sitting in front of the glowing embers of last night's fire, Grace Spelling - well it was Grace Anderson now -could not believe how wonderful her life had become. Pulling the curtains aside to snoop bit on the world outside, she was elated to see three hummingbirds feasting on the bougainvillea flowers. For such a long time George's every sentence had seemed alternately warm and open, careful or confusingly open to interpretation. She had felt like he was interested in her - he made it a point to always seek her out and talk to her and to do things to help her, but somehow he managed to do so in a way made her want to tear her hair out with frustration. Then, the morning of the big snowstorm last winter, he had shoveled her snow and come for breakfast, something had changed. Over coffee and bacon and eggs, they had talked politics, war and peace, economics, the environment and continuing over lunch and then dinner had moved on to politics. He had gone back across the street briefly to get some ingredients for dinner and had walked in carrying two bottles of wine, while reciting the words that would glow in her heart forever: "A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou..." from the Rubaiyat of Omar Kayyam. Once he had opened up to her, George Anderson proved to be possibly the most romantic man on earth. Their love had continued to grow after that snowy morning and six weeks later he had asked her to marry him. Six months later, here they were on their honeymoon, awash in the poetry of love and beautiful surroundings. She loved that there were hummingbirds outside the window. Native Americans thought of hummingbirds as bringers of joy. Looking over at her new husband as he slept peacefully in their bed, she thought she was awash in joy already, but still, she thought, there can never be too much joy. She would name their first child joy, she thought, placing her hand on her belly. She was sure, somehow that last night they had made more than just love. Nine months later, she was proven to be right.
Words for next week's 10-word challenge: perplexed, imagination, chandelier, ball of yarn, carpenter, crocodile tears, shape, drop, pouring, the last straw
And for the mini: gambol, scarf, red peppers, puzzle, praise
Thanks you for playing. Newcomers can check here for some guidelines to make the game more fun. There are no rules, just some general guidelines and tricks.