Saturday, March 30, 2013

Run Aground

Poor Silver.

Irrelevant in today’s world. Riding stormy seas is so 18th century.

Put out to pasture.

New status?  Landlubber.  Fish out of water. 

The ancient pirate finds solace at the car wash.




Trifextra:  This weekend we're asking for exactly 33 words including an idiom somewhere within.

Image credit.

Friday, March 29, 2013

Bell Bottom Trousers

Where would sailors be without them? 

(Out of uniform, that’s where!)


70's Disco Glam

Yikes, stripes!!  These aren’t the bell bottoms that I associate with sailors!

Still, I think my newest little bag might be more at home during the disco age, than sailing the seven seas.

Remember that shocking barkcloth?

This is what I came up with…



  Bell bottom trousers optional.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Write at the Merge Week 13: We’ll Meet Again

On a sun blessed morning in early spring, she is leaning on her shovel, surveying her sleeping garden and picturing the promised wonder of days to come.  Spiking red and yellow hollyhock, exotically reminiscent of hibiscus.  Wisteria, twisting and sagging under the weight of fragrant heliotrope blooms.  Hyacinth flowers, perfectly arranged like pyramids of miniature grapes, and the blushing faces of pink coneflower-such a delightful contrast to the amusingly ferocious faces of the orange snapdragon.

Plunging the tip of the spade sharply into the soil, near the base of an awakening peony whose tender new leaves are just beginning to peek out between last season’s dead stalks-she carves the plant, roots and all, from the earth. Her sobs are mixed with apology.  “I’m sorry,” she sniffles.  “But lettuce, tomatoes, peas-they are what matter now.”

She pulls a flower festooned handkerchief from the back pocket of her overalls, blows her nose a little too loudly, and laughs lightly at her cacophonous honking and snorting.  “Perhaps my nose ought to be classified as a secret weapon!”  Someday though, she promises herself-someday, when this war is over, she will sow the seeds that she gathered last summer, an archive of what was, and must only be remembered for now.  She notes the blossoms on her sodden hankie, and the significance does not escape her.



writing prompt

This piece of fiction was inspired by the prompt WONDER.

Photo credit.

Monday, March 25, 2013


File:Betty Compson.jpg
Cold scissors.

They brush the nape of my neck, and I flinch.

“Hold still!”

Jane’s voice attempts to reprimand me, but the giddiness in her tone gives her away, and we are both barely able to keep our giggles contained. I still can’t believe I have talked her into doing this.  Our secret.  For now.

She smoothes her chemise, takes a deep breath and pushes my head forward.  My chin touches the hollow of my throat.

“If you don’t hold still, I can’t cut straight.”

At the word cut, second thoughts take shape.  A bit too late, though.  Already, wet, brown curls litter the floor.

“I’m almost finished, Bernice.  Sit up straight, and I’ll check to see if the two sides are even.  Oh, it looks keen!  Lucky you with your naturally curly hair-you look just like Betty Compson in Prisoners of Love!”

I imagine I hear envy, though, tainting the admiration in her voice.  For me. The daring sister.  And what I’ve done.

She rakes a comb through the length of my hair.  A much shorter distance than before. 

“Did you shingle it in the back?” I ask.

“I don’t know how.  You need to go to a barber to have that done.  Maybe after mother and father get over their initial shock, mother will let you.”

“Jane, what about you?” I am teasing her now.  “Do you want me to bob your hair too?” I know what she’ll say.  

She answers with an  impish grin as she steps around to face me,  pulling off the wide brimmed hat I assumed was keeping her long hair in check. She reveals golden strands that  end at her jaw line.

Jane. The timid one. Never daring

For once, I am at a loss for words.  I feel like a mountain climber, drunk on victory, only to be told that someone else has reached the summit first.

Jane is grinning, waiting for me to say something. Scissors held indifferently in her hand.

Cold, I imagine.



On to the weekly Trifecta prompt. Pay attention to the third definition, as always. Good lucky!
LUCKY (adjective)
1: having good luck
2: happening by chance : fortuitous
3: producing or resulting in good by chance : favorable
Please remember:

  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. 
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. 
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response. 
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 
  • Only one entry per writer. 
  • If your post doesn't meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz. 
  • Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us. 
Good luck!

This week's word is lucky.  


Picture of Betty Compson sourced from net, but is now in public domain.

Risky Behavior









70's barkcloth

Found yesterday.  Shockingly electric 1970’s barkcloth.

Stay tuned…


Dolores in shades

Oh really, Dolores! 

Do you have to be so dramatic?

Saturday, March 23, 2013



This thief I can’t see. 

Stealing moments, looting memory, until I can’t remember.

I want to fight back, start a rebellion.

But time is relentless, robbing me blind. 

Devastating my life.

Like rain on a parade.


The Trifextra challenge: This weekend, we are revisiting a prompt we've done before. We are giving you three words and asking that you add another 33 to them to make a complete 36-word response. You may use the words in any order you choose.
Our three words are:
Now you give us yours.


I came up with two responses this week, and I couldn't decide which one to post.  This is my “tongue in cheek” version:


Inclement Weather

The rebellion was going well, as I recall. No shortage of clashing swords, guttural screams. But then the rain came. Spirits sagged, and besides. All those umbrellas blocked my view. I really can’t remember who won.

Friday, March 22, 2013

At Home By the Sea


I’m back from our long weekend at the Oregon Coast, and I have so much to tell you!  Once again, my inlaws generously allowed us the use of their new home in Depoe Bay-home to the world’s smallest harbor.

File:Depoe Bay entrance sign P1905.jpeg

(Photo sourced from internet)

We visited nearby Beverly Beach several times-for long walks and beachcombing.  I found the rock formations to be incredibly interesting as well!



I saw a tiki face in this particular formation-and Amy saw a skull with part of the skeleton attached…



Amy had fun jumping from one rock to another, and Willow did too-until she landed in a deep puddle and had to be hauled out, soaked and shivering.  I spared her the humiliation of having her picture taken…



I loved this photo of Amy and her reflection.  This beautiful child of mine has the most uncanny knack for dressing in harmony with her surroundings.   Her jacket matched the water and sky so well I sometimes mistook her for part of the lovely scenery!



This formation reminded both of us of a huge crab claw.



And these rocks have a definite volcanic look to them. Studying the geological history of this beach would be extremely interesting.



At first glance I thought this must be a manmade arrangement of stones, but once again it turned out to be the handiwork of Mother Nature.  I’m simply at a loss for words!



It’s been two years since the devastating tsunami struck Japan, and debris from that catastrophe is still washing ashore all along west coast beaches.  Stuart found this green bottle with Japanese writing on it, and I decided it would make an interesting addition to my outdoor “bottle garden”.  Debris like this can have a negative impact on local marine life because of the highly invasive non native species of plants and animals that have hitched a ride clear across the Pacific.   You can see some small creatures attached near the bottle cap. 

The rock containing shell fragments is one I picked up because I admired the contrast of colors and textures.



I bought this trio of glass fishing floats at a souvenir shop.  They are for decoration only, but every once in a while the real thing-highly collectible and worth a bit of money-washes up on the beach. I hung my floats on the front porch where I’m reminded of the sea every time I look at them.

glass floats


Some other shells, pieces of beach glass, and agates that the three of us found.  I put them in an old fish bowl.



During this visit we were lucky to see a variety of wildlife, such as groups of seals, whale spouts from migrating wales as they swam far out at sea, and these birds-clinging to the rock face just yards above the pounding surf. 



And then there was Kona.  With a tennis ball to play with, and a stretch of nice wet sand, she was completely at home on the beach. 


I think we need to go back.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Arnold said it best…

I will be back, dear readers-on Thursday!  We are off to the Oregon Coast again! 

Have a great week!! 

Valerie xx

Friday, March 15, 2013

Time and Physics

Jeux de miroir @Bordeaux

Bathed in rain, caressed by sun, the pavement steams below my feet. Releasing the countless memories of those who have trodden here before, it creates an atmosphere where new ones will be made.



This weekends Trifextra's prompt:  33 words inspired by the above photo.

Photo credit: BĂ©renger ZYLA / / CC BY-NC-ND

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Happy Hour

The 1950’s saw a revival in Polynesian pop culture…


The 1960’s brought us avocado green and harvest gold…

avocado and gold


And I got out my trusty sewing machine, mixed the two decades together, and came up with this little bag



I had so much fun whipping up this “fabric cocktail” I think my blender was jealous… 

Cheers, my dear readers!

Monday, March 11, 2013

99 Problems

Did I accidentally set my clock back this weekend?  Way, way back?  Because while I’m out walking this morning, he suddenly appears,  materializing from a side street and now a few steps ahead of me.  Long feathered hair-teased into a voluminous gravity defying gray nest.  Tight faded jeans, cropped leather jacket and white high tops.  My smirk is as obvious as a pair of leopard spandex pants at a bridal show. Hey buddy, didn’t anyone tell you?  The 80’s are over! 

I slow my pace a bit so that I can maintain a comfortable distance behind him, and the more I observe him, the more I am actually starting to admire him.  He moves with carefree intention, and that magnificently maned head of his is held high.  If there are 99 problems staring him in the face, his demeanor says otherwise.

Still, for a split second I panic. What if the 1980’s really are happening all over again

They aren’t.  At least not for me.  But for this guy-comfortably distanced ahead of me, and confidently attired in the past-rewinding time 30 years just might make him superman.  And that gives dress for success a whole new meaning.


I want to thank the mysterious fellow this morning who inspired this post, and I’d also like to add that my coffee sure would taste good in this mug…

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 9.53.00 PM

Surprise! It’s our 900th post, and we want to celebrate with you. We know you’re busy. We know you’ve got to-do lists longer than War and Peace, but we hope you’ll play the surprise prompt game with us today.

Listen to Hugo talk about his 99 Problems and link up a response. Let the song or the idea of 99 problems inspire you.

As an added incentive to play along, a random linker will receive a Write on Edge coffee mug, the perfect way to perk up your mornings or keep you company while you’re working into the night.

Friday, March 8, 2013

On Deaf Ears

Amber colored agates.  Seashells.  A salt water washed stone.  Lined up on the kitchen sill, they sit indifferently, while she talks about her day.  That she expects nothing more from them is gratifying.



On to the Trifextra challenge.  This weekend, we want you to give us a thirty-three response using the word stone as one of your thirty-three words.  You can use any definition of the word that you'd like.

It Must Be Fried-day?

eggs 2

I’m taking an unofficial poll today, dear readers  How do you like your eggs cooked?

Over easy?

Hard boiled?



Soft boiled?

Sunny side up?

Or scrabbled?


I know, I know.  Bad yoke, er, I mean joke!

Have a great weekend!

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Golden Anniversary

With singular grace that belies her age, she wraps around her weathered body, a grass skirt. After five decades, the emerald strands of raffia have faded to pale green. Still, the ties have not brittled, and her fingers, without too much difficulty, manage to knot them together.  The coconut top though, is another matter, and she is thankful to be donning it without the audience of a mirror.  She laughs at the thought of what her late husband would say to her-if he could only see.  It takes some doing, but at length, she is able to maneuver the shellacked brown half shells into their proper places.

Now that she is aptly attired, she directs an admiring gaze towards her potted palm. Visually measuring it’s height against the 10 foot ceilings of the parlor, she marvels that the tree must be nearly 8 feet tall, and again she is thankful for this house and it’s soaring rooms.  All those years ago. She is remembering her Honolulu honeymoon. Hawaii.  A land of exotic beauty unlike any she had ever seen.  Among the souvenirs she’d desired to have as mementoes of her visit-the hula ensemble, a carved wooden tiki, and a moderately expensive bottle of plumeria perfume-she’d also chosen the palm.  Barely bigger, at the time, than the coconut from which it grew, it was a piece of the Islands she could take home with her.  A fitting exchange for the piece of her heart she was leaving behind.

50 years ago.

Fifty years of longing for a place she was destined never to see again.

Her Victrola begins to serenade her with the first sweet strains of Aloha Oe, and she surrenders.   Assuming a position in front of her beloved palm, she is lost in old memories of paradise.  No longer does she feel the need to juggle past and present.  Closing her eyes, still as blue as the Pacific Ocean, she starts to sway.


writing prompt

This week we’re honoring the genius of Dr. Suess, who was born on March 2, 1904.  Our two Seussical offerings are an image and a line from one of his books. Happy writing!

“I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees for the trees have no tongues.”

Dr. Seuss, from The Lorax


JUGGLE (transitive verb)
1a : to practice deceit or trickery on : beguile
  b : to manipulate or rearrange especially in order to achieve a desired end
2a : to toss in the manner of a juggler
  b : to hold or balance precariously
3: to handle or deal with usually several things (as obligations) at one time so as to satisfy often competing requirements <juggle the responsibilities of family life and full-time job — Jane S. Gould>

Monday, March 4, 2013

I’ve Got Your Number

Last week, after a two week interruption in our routine, Paula and I finally resumed our Friday rounds to St. Vincent de Paul and Goodwill.  (The clerk at Goodwill even demanded to know where we’d been!)  Both stores were absolutely bursting at the seams with other bargain hunters.  I’m guessing the ninety-nine cent clothing sale at St. Vincent’s, and the 50% off all donated items at Goodwill may have had something to do with it.  Browsing was, to say the least, a little challenging-and while I didn’t find anything I wanted at Goodwill, I did find this at St. Vinnies-


It’s an early 1960’s Rolodex.  I paid 75 cents for it.  Not bad, considering that I did some checking online and found the exact same Rolodex for 30 dollars.  I’m not sure why, but I’ve always wanted a vintage Rolodex-I guess I like the idea of flipping through the little cards in search of a phone number, while cradling the handset to an old black telephone under my chin.  It just seems so charmingly old fashioned.  Or maybe I envision myself as the head of my own detective agency, hunting down missing husbands.

There were a few names and addresses still written on some of the cards-and Paula, who’s lived in Ellensburg most of her life even knew who some of the people were.  We both got a kick out of the notation next to the name on the card above. 

She married early Oct ‘97. 

That might be a useful bit of information-should I choose to become a private eye.

In the meantime, a couple weeks ago I uncovered another remnant (no pun intended!) of the early 1960’s-this stunning avocado green Hawaiian barkcloth, which I plan to pair with the vintage tiki inspired button that I found last summer in a second hand store a few miles away. 

barkcloth and button

Stay tuned…

Friday, March 1, 2013


I know this.

The dog sleeps at the bottom of the stairs.

Has, every night, for years.

Still, my tip toed descents in search of late night sustenance always end the same.



This is my first submission for a Trifecta writing challenge. For the weekend challenge we're asking for exactly thirty-three words written in first person narrative.



And The Winner Is…


Dolores?  Dolores?

That mannequin of mine.  I hate it when she ignores me.

Dolores!  I’m talking to you!  Guess what?  Today’s the day one of my lovely readers wins my contest.  Would you like to help me?  I just saw a couple of cute sailors carrying sea bags full of entries.  Did you see them too?  I thought it would be fun to put all of the names into my dad’s old sailor hat, and have you choose the winner!

Sailors_Seabags crop

No?  You’re brooding again? 

Well can I at least take a picture of you modeling my dad’s hat?


Oh, Dolores.

I asked my husband to do the honors.  Pick the name, that is, though I bet he’d have gladly modeled my dad’s hat, too. And he may have even smiled.  But I didn’t want to push my luck.

So now, I’d like to announce the winner!!

Congratulations to someone familiar to a lot of us-Renae from Simple Sequins!  I’ll be in touch, my friend!

Thanks, everyone, for entering-and good job on correctly guessing what I found odd about that jar.  (Even Dolores should smile over that!)

Have a great weekend, my darlings!