Point of view, Story, The Street

 It was a fine sunny morning in Washington, the smell of late breakfasts and exhaust all around me. My commuters on their way when it stands out to me a pair of black Shayswas pass over me. I know these leather soul shoes and they always mean trouble.
Ah, I see there over on the sidewalk another agent as they pass a brief case in an obvious manner. Who trains these fellas now? Did all the good ones quite when administration change?
Hey you, no running red lights!
Whats this hes just going to open it there on the bench? What a fool. With his smug sticky fingers on that nice key board, at least its neat to have a glance. Oh, a bird. This might be interesting. I hope it  poops on his head. Or yeah, that can happen too... ....look what you've done now rookie. There is a Pigeon terrorizing my commuters! AHHH, OWW! I don't appreciate screeching tires and broken glass on my hard dark skin. How dare you! Why on earth does that brief case have lazers anyway? Now you're just gonna try and reason with it in the middle of me aren't ya? ... I didn't expect that to work. What ever you do with that lame excuse of a breakfast don't leave it here. I'll flag the authority's for littering... wait... you're CIA aren't you? I wonder if they can do anything about this...

Food Writing, French Toast

My Dad and I's French Toast.

Here's what you're going to need:

1 Tsp. Real Vanilla
1 Tbsp. Sugar
4 slices of Texas Toast
4 Eggs
1/4 cup of 2% Milk
Someone you love to share it with

            Yes, french toast may be simple, and just about everyone can make it, but the simple-sweet way we make it., is my favorite. This is just one of the breakfast foods we've perfected. I love being able to show off how good I can make breakfast too. This of course is not meant in a puny way, it's just that I love breakfast. Those draggy mornings trying to get out of bed for college and work before five, just keep flying by. It's so much better when I get to share the morning with my father. Just those 30mins or more of us chatting, cooking, over a pot of coffee are the best. I wouldn't trade these days with him for all the riches in the world.
            We'd start by saying good morning in the half light living area. He'd be sitting in his chair checking his email. I'd be across the island pouring my cup of hot Colombian coffee I had preset the night before. Then either there'd be the question of what we make for breakfast or the suggestion and no argument ever in the matter. He'd climb out of his chair pause in the kitchen to stretch and yawn. Lucy our black cat rubbing against his leg and then staring up at him with those eyes of  "Don't forget my breakfast too." she may even mew at him as he looks to her. He'd smile and laugh and say something small to her like "Oh yeah?" or "You too?" . Toshiba our other grey dilute calico would chime in out of no where with a sort of rolling meow similar to a bird sound. "We won't forget ya." he'd say as he heads to the cabinet we keep the frying pans in. 
         Then we become a team, know each step and working together to speed the process. I'd have a shallow bowl as he turns the stove on to heat up to med-high. He'd be collecting the eggs and milk, as I got out the sugar and vanilla. Sometimes we alternate jobs, its just whatever one can do to help. More than half the time though I'd be watching him. He'd crack the eggs open one by one, and stack the shells and toss them in the compost. Rinse his hands off then pour in the milk. We don't really even measure just whatever looks about right. I'd dribble in the vanilla, then thickly dash over the sugar into the batter. We always whisk it with a fork, not that we don't have whisks it's just the old style we like, or something, I never asked. Then I'd usually take over, bring the bowl over to the Texas Toast that sits next to our stove.

...To be continued

Sky

Things aren't always what they seem... 

I often wonder what things around me might just be an illusion.
What matters and what doesn't.
The working of the mind in dreams.
I wonder why in my dreams some details do not appear, like there is a person standing adjacent to me who is a friend. I don't know if they are male or female or even the color of there hair I just know I'm near a friend.
I wonder what creates these illusions at night.
Are they just spontaneous brain compulsions as I sleep?
I find it fascinating the simple things that can inspire a dream.

As I look at this image I directly relate it to the one I saw before it stating "That the sky is the limit." Maybe it's but an illusion and your fate could be much closer or further than you think.

Senses Paragraph, Place I'd rather be.

I'd rather be dressed for an interview job-hunting, right now.

Smooth and cool to the touch polyester shirt, black pencil skirt, felt peek-toe shoes, a silver dragon fly necklace to add an edge... dressed to kill. I'd be sitting in my car, the smell and taste of spring air whipping past me toying with my curls draped over my shoulders. I'd stop at the four-way in town. I could hear the birds cheering me on, other cars passing by and the smell of my warm Colombian coffee with sweet-vanilla creamer taunting me from my cup holder. I'd take a moment to steal a sip bringing the mug to my lips and taking a second to saver, before it's my turn to go. I'd feel my grip tighten on the worn steering wheel as I climb gears. The roar of my engine as I head to one of my destinations. I'd be mindlessly playing with that little piece of worn leather fabric pealing away on the back side of the steering wheel, listening to the alternative melody from my radio.

I'd park, and get out of the car. I could be holding my resume feeling the warm paper and freshly dried ink beneath my fingers walking up to the door with grace and power. I'd have the light cologne scented perfume on my chest, the fresh smell of fabric softener in my clothes, soft lotion-ed hands, ready with my I-pad ready to show them my portfolio. Of course, after I've first asked them questions on who they are. I've already been suck in the family owned no chance of a management position for awhile now. I'm ready to move forward. Sigh, I want more in my career field and that seems to always be on my mind, but yet. I've been thinking. Why am I applying? To get a new boss and go through the usual routine. I could have my own business, be my own boss.

Place I'd rather be...

I'd rather be dressed for an interview and job hunting right now. 

Polyester shirt, black pencil skirt, peek-toe shoes, silver dragon fly necklace ready to kill. I'd be holding my resume and I-pad ready to show them my portfolio. Sigh, I want more in the career field and that seems to always be on the back of my mind, but yet. I've been thinking. Why am I applying? To get a new boss and go through the usual routine. I could have my own business make my own hours...


See
I'd be sitting in the front seat of my car to-go mug in the cup holder, purse in the passenger seat. It'd be a nice day, like this past spring-break. My windows would be rolled down, hair rolling around my shoulders, sunglasses on.

Smell
I'd smell the fresh cool spring air, the Colombian coffee I make with vanilla creamer beside me. My freshly washed and styled hair, the light smell of fabric softener in my clothes. My purfume on my chest, loation on my hands even the leather of my car.

Touch
I'd feel my grip tighten on the worn searing wheel, that little piece of fabric pealing on the back side of it i play with mindlessly. The warm metal of my to-go mug, and the silicone case of my phone checking for any news. I'd feel the warm paper of my resume as I walk up to the company door.

Hear
I'd hear the roar of my cars engine as she climbs gears. I'd hear the wind along side the sound of alternative music coming from my stereo. I'd probably be singing a few verses along with it. I could hear the birds of the town cheering me on, other cars passing by. Then finally that familiar I-phone ring phone call.

Taste
I could taste my chap stick under my pale lipstick and lip-liner. I could taste the fresh air, like water and grass. I sipped my coffee and first could taste the metal of the mug touch my lips and tilt back the warm coffee. There would be that first impression  of cream vanilla then the medium-roast of Colombian coffee. 


Story
I was there this spring break.
Finally a day where my friends are busy and I'm not in class or at work. I could start my chase. I'm tired of being locked into one position. There will be no management promotions in a family owned company.  I'm ready to advance and it's long over due. I've only spoke with four other company's so far and applied. I fear this will be a long journey. I hope that I will find a new position by Summer so I can work full-time as an internship. I want to stay local. I know where home is, but I'm to make this career work for me I'm going to have to make sacrifices that maybe I'm not ready for...

Description, image on the screen.

Deep red like waves of felt or candy bars stacked and sliding from a pile.
Lines across them, maybe to symbolize the Hispanic cultural origin.
There are three lizards circled around a blue feather. Odd the blue freather is a symbol of marraige in the japaneese culture. Maybe that has something to do with the three lizards. A love afair?

Although the colors say party the lines say confusion.

Hells and Heavens

My hells and heavens are moments in every day. 

My hells come mainly from me. Fear of being late, worry of not being good enough, worry of messing up a good thing.

My heavens are times where I feel pride, welcomed, needed and desired.

It all seems to derive from emotion.

The heavenly moment of a knock on the door of your lonely home near dinner time. Then the dramatic warm and comforting hug after a long day of work.

A hell of pressure at work when your adviser leaves you a set priority list then gets mad because you didn't get around to the thing on the very bottom of the list.

I suppose I see heaven and hell every day.
Yet, I believe in neither.
They are just thoughts, sparatic nerve movement in the brain.

Story of our odd words.

Hey, like, Jimmy John and I were taking the back road the other day. The road, like went on relentlessly then I saw a cat. I awwed, but had no idea where it derived, it looked like Spartacus, that wonky cat of Jacobs. I tried to be indicative to my driver, but, like booty hole he hit him! I screamed ratchet-jargon at him till I was completely knackered. All he let out was a "geesh."