How the Cookie Crumbles

An irreverant view of life after SIXTY-FIVE


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100-Word Challenge for Jacqui

Behave Yourselves

 

Thank you Google.

Thank you Google.

My fickle pen rushes…

Morgan paced like a panther. “You know me. I do what I like.”

“You-know-me-I-do-what-I-like.” Wally’s sour mouth puckered.

Hey stop.

“You dare use that tone with me?”

“Slam-the-door-she-heard-me.”

You’re fighting? Behave yourselves.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve had a dreadful day. Georges-is-unreasonable.”

“Sweetheart? You haven’t called me that in…we’re in agreement then. My choice of destination.”

What? Isn’t this sudden? You can’t change directions whenever you please.

“Destination? I-thought-I’d-explained-I-can’t…”

“Can’t or won’t? You work for me, remember?”

“But the project—”

Enough. I need a break from you two. My wrist’s shot and I have to pee anyway.


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Flash in the Pan – Waitress

Sam marched into the boardroom dressed for battle: pressed suit, starched collar, and muted tie. He dropped a folder on the conference table, sinking into his usual chair. Members dribbled in.

Microsoft Clipart

Microsoft Clipart

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hi, George.”

“Morning, Lewis.”

Chairs scraped, water glasses clinked, papers shushed when shuffled.

A leggy brunette in a pinstripe suit and red heels materialized. The men rubbernecked as one.

“Coffee wagon?” Sam growled. “We need to get started.”

She stopped dead and crossed her arms. “Do I look like a waitress?”

“On your way dearie.”

“The name is Morgan Walkerton, your new C.E.O. I called this meeting.”

~ * ~

The word limit for Waitress is 100 words. I used all 100. Check out http://mommasmoneymatters.com/flash-fiction/ for the rules and join us.


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How’s Yours?

For Christmas, my daughter surprised me with a Keurig (coffee brewing system), which gives me a choice of three cup sizes. My old coffee maker works fine, I wanted to blurt.

A sample box of a dozen pre-measured, prefilled cups came with it—Italian (dark) Roast—too strong for my taste. Since Keurig carry so many brands, I would have preferred a box of assorted coffee instead. In my notebook, I made notes about two dozen varieties I had to purchase. These are a few:

  1. Timothy’s Original Donut Blend  – a somewhat watered down taste of coffee, with overtones of molasses.
  2. Brown Gold 100% Peruvian Medium –  full-bodied coffee, with rich overtones of peaches. Yum.
  3. 100% Costa Rican Brown Gold, Mild – beautiful cup of coffee. No added notes but a ‘feel good cup of coffee’.
  4. Breakfast In Bed Woolfgang Puck, Medium – a full bodied coffee. Nice aroma, but with a slight aftertaste; still, not bad. This one proved disappointing. I had high expectations because of the brand. Nothing outstanding here. No notes or overtones.

Not that I’m a wine connoisseur by any stretch, but it struck me odd that I should make comparisons to wine when I wrote these notes. When I went back to the coffee supply store, what a surprise to see all the coffees had similar descriptions as above. Woohoo.

Thank you Microsoft

Thank you Microsoft

Why I’m not crazy about the new-fangled coffee machines is so many customers are now buying premeasured plastic pucks and cups. Throwing this plastic in the garbage drives me nuts. I found out if you rip the cups apart and remove the paper or fibre filter, they are recyclable. A bit of a bother, I know, but let’s face it we’re already too lazy.

Keurig also make a reusable cup you can fill yourself. I believe they sell separate paper  filters for these, but am  not sure. You fill these with any kind of coffee you like, perhaps a favourite you already enjoy. My problem is the machine makes only one cup at a time. You need to dig out the compacted grounds, rinse, dry and refill for next one. Somewhat of a pain if you have a friend over for coffee. For best results you must use ultra-fine grind coffee in the refillable cups or the end result I found disappointing.

Did I need a new coffee machine? No. Was I over the moon when I opened my gift? No. Once a cup is made I must drink it up or it will get cold. I hate cold coffee. It so happens that Kuerig coffees are delicious black and cold, but I still prefer mine hot.

I’m content with my old drip coffeemaker. I can pour a third or a half-cup at a time, and I get to drink it hot. My cat jumped up on the counter last week and knocked the coffee pot off because I set it, clean and empty, next to the drip coffee unit. It smashed on the floor. Instead of buying acomplete new unit, I replaced the pot for $2.99 at a second-hand store. Now my coffee is always hot again because my cheap little coffee maker has a burner, and keeps my pot hot.

The Keurig is nice, but too expensive for every day use. I like lots of black coffee each day.

What’s your story? How is your coffee?


54 Comments

Curious Meets Crazy

I hate cold coffee and am forever reheating a cup in the microwave. Why does the mug handle end up in the back even when I place it facing out, or, no matter how long it spins to reheat?

My old washing machine ate socks; I became used to losing them and expected the loss. What changed? The new machine hasn’t gobbled any—even once—in four years. What gives?

When are you officially a senior? 50? 55? 60? 65? Businesses used to offer discounts on a wide range of products and services for customers age fifty and over. Once the demographic reports on baby boomers came out, perks dwindled, an inch at a time. Too many seniors are approaching age sixty-five. Why is this information a surprise?

McDonald’s offers seniors a coffee discount—size small only. Some ‘franchises’ don’t offer any reduction at all. Others give you the same price cut whether you order a small or a large cup. Why the differences?

Why do meteors fall through the atmosphere but don’t hit anything? I’m pleased not to hear of catastrophic damages, but why is it they never hit any cities or tall buildings? Why are burned remnants always found in remote areas? How lucky are we?

Why do I always want to do something else when I’m in the middle of any particular project? Even when I’m half-way into an absorbing book, another one catches my eye; I’m impatient to get into the new one no matter how exciting the current one I’m reading.

Why is my cat driving me crazy? I threw drop-sheets on my sofa to discourage her from playing Tarzan. She found an opening no matter how I draped, tucked or arranged the sheets to drag on the floor. She discovered a new game called ‘run under the drop-sheets and hang on the sofa underneath’. Alright! W-e-e-e-e. Will my sofa last until next Monday morning and her manicure appointment?


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Swoon No More

Does anyone in this whole wide world dislike hate fruit flies like I do?

Fruit flies were everywhere yesterday, following me around it seemed. No fruits or vegetables anywhere. Why did they descend on me? Sure I ‘m apt to find a few in the kitchen during the warm summer weather now and again, as in past years, except last fall, we had hordes. I don’t expect a following to my favourite spot on the sofa, though, nor around my computer (which happens to be in my bedroom). No fruit or food in here either.

I smashed at least a dozen of the flying pests certain only one existed. As soon as I clapped one dead another one materialized. I couldn’t get any work done. And, one flew at my face. What? This made it personal. Did I mention I’m not dead yet and I can prove it? I’m like a frog—I’m so fast—but I don’t use a weird tongue to do the job. Who else is so talented to kill and applaud at the same time?

I half-filled a mug with sugar water and placed it on a side table by my desk. No captives to report in the past twenty-four hours. No race resulted, either,  to determine who craved my glass of wine first. I’m almost disappointed;  this is most unusual. You won’t believe it—I couldn’t either—a fruit fly in my COFFEE swam its last dead fly float! Have the fruit flies of the world joined AA?

Not so long ago, I remember house flies bu-z-z-z-z-ed. Of late, I notice they annoy the hell out of me but are mute. Fruit flies hung around my kitchen until last night but swoon over sugar water and wine no more. What’s happening? I thought technology was going to confuse me first not the silly bug world.

Tonight, a lone fruit fly came to visit. It had the nerve to land on the back of my wrist—bold as brass. Yes, I looked at it—for a millisecond, and let him have it. Later, a cousin or a spouse flew in.

How I hate washing my hands every five minutes but no trouble shall I have sleeping the good sleep yet again tonight.


54 Comments

Whose Money is it by the Way?

I don’t recall if I’ve had a good rant this year. You can’t expect a body to remember everything she’s done over a six- month period, or is it in the last half-year? I can’t remember where I put my glasses two minutes ago…or is it three…whatever. If I don’t get to the point soon I’m going to lose my train of thought. Where was I?

Let’s talk groceries; my favourite subject. The packaging is getting smaller. Who’s noticed? Let’s look at pasta. Wait a minute. Is pasta measured in grams or litres? I might venture one is for dry goods and the other is for wet. Never mind. I know a way that’s a lot easier to visualize without the confusion.  To put this strange measuring into prespective, think a one litre bottle (L)  vs a 750- millilitre (ml) bottle of wine. The difference is something like 250 ml. Sometimes I think I make this stuff up because I was slow in grade school. You may think I’m a cheap wino but I know how to subtract. Pay attention to smaller sizes and higher prices. I know you get the picture so stop smirking.

The first time I recall making a whole box of pasta (375 grams or was it more at some point?), I had so much I couldn’t give it away. One package doesn’t go as far nowadays. I do save the leftovers but I don’t have much after four servings. Whole wheat and whole grain pasta is being promoted as heart healthy (but in a 300 gram-size) and the price has—you guessed it—steadily crept up as the content has shrunk. I’m positive the 375-gram box is smaller thanI remember, but I wasn’t paying attention when I should have been; I wasn’t retired yet. Everybody is downsizing one way or another except for my tush, it seems.

Tuna is a favourite pantry item I keep on hand and am always afraid I’ll forget to restock. I make a mean tuna salad with white kidney beans and chopped celery I adore. (Let me know and I’ll post the recipe.) You know those days when lunchtime munchies won’t leave you alone? Most days I’m satisfied with a big tossed salad, especially in summertime, or homemade soup out of my freezer. Today it’s tuna salad straight up (sometimes I go nuts and mix tuna and a tossed salad together).  Not long ago those little tins of tuna cost only 77₵. The past few months the price has been sneaking up ten cents each time I go shopping. This week they’re up to $1.07.

Nobody likes to talk about—I can’t understand why—papier toilettes. (Sounds better in French, doesn’t it?) You thought I’m not aware of your sensitivities, maybe? I’ll ignore the insult.

Let’s get back to the subject at hand—oops. Stop being so squeamish and let me finish. This time the packaging is getting BIGGER. Yep, I said bigger- looking. Instead of buying eight or twelve (single) rolls, somebody thought fifteen DOUBLE rolls is better—double rolls, count ‘em, equal to thirty regular rolls. Wow! What a bargain. Think again. They’re not wound as tight as they once were. Take note a roll doesn’t go as far as it did once. Am I right?

In the end, what will a dollar buy in the future–a quarter-cup of cereal? Remember not long ago old folks said a cup of coffee used to cost a dime? How much is it now?


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Old Bird, New Tricks. . .

Generally speaking, I’m a tough old bird. I have no allergies that I know of, except for sunscreen. I can’t wear it. A breakout of tiny, angry water blisters, which itch like the plague and break if I scratch, and itch more when they break, invade my pitiful sun-screened skin.

A couple of months ago, I made a new discovery. (I’m way too easy, you see.) It’s time, I decided, to stop using Dove soap on my face after eons of use. I haven’t had any problems: no extra lines or flaky skin, but a change would be good, I thought.

Enter Nivea Visage Replenishing Cleansing Cream Lotion (Mature Skin). I also splurged on Nivea Visage Rich Moisturizing Day Care with SPF 15. This was not a big investment; the price was right, the total  under twenty dollars. Oh, what a feeling; what a r-u-s-h a new jar of cream will bring! I felt like a new woman for several weeks. My face looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Until, the diaper rash!

I believe I have some Rosacea as do many women after a certain age. What I saw was something more. When my cheeks and chin broke out in pimples—with pin-sized yellow heads—my attention sprang into front row.  Mornings I looked great, no redness and no pimples—until I washed my face and applied the moisturizing day cream—hmm, curious.

My head has been someplace else lately. I noticed sort of, but didn’t put the  details together. Something made me stop the day cream and switch back to a long-time old faithful moisture cream. No change. Yikes. (I blush easily, which makes my face a deeper crimson and the added heat irritates this new condition.) Now the breakouts were becoming more of a problem because makeup didn’t hide them and everyone could see what was going on. Blush. Blush.

I stopped the cleansing lotion and went back to good old Dove soap. No immediate magic, but three days later, no more yellow heads—only angry red lines. I’d also been drinking buckets of coffee lately and have been a bit more stressed out than usual. Generally, not good.

So far, I’m pleased with my skin’s improvement. Why do I always need to chase the next best product when the current one is doing its job? What can I say? I’m vain to hope—hope there is still magic to be had. Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I don’t like to look my best and feel like a new woman once in a while. I’m sure vanity never goes away. Am I right? Sure I am.

First of all, I knew I had an allergic reaction to sunscreen? What is SPF 15, after all? But I forgot. So my head has been buried in the sand but no more. I hope I don’t have to give up coffee—or wine. Both of these aggravate Rosacea as does stress, but the big bad problem seems to be going away. . .

This feels like a service announcement. What? This is about ME. It is NOT an infomercial. Please.

~ * ~

For information on Rosacea:  http://www.symptomfind.com/diseases-conditions/rosacea/

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