Linda G. Hill

Life in progress


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One-Liner Wednesday – It’s a Con-undrum

If I can’t come up with a one-liner for my own prompt, will I go to jail? More importantly, how will I be sentenced?

 


If you would like to participate in this prompt, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a pingback, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post, and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.

NOTE: Pingbacks only work from WordPress sites. If you’re self-hosted or are participating from another host, like Blogger, please leave a link to your post in the comments below.

As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a pingback from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.

Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”

The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:

1. Make it one sentence.

2. Try to make it either funny or inspirational.

3. Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.

4. Add our lovely new badge to your post for extra exposure!

5. Have fun!

#1linerWeds badge by Cheryl, at dreamingreality646941880.wordpress.com/


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#SoCS – Smoothie

I have an earworm. The song “Smooth” by Santana and Rob Thomas came on the radio yesterday, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. My neighbours might have it in their heads too, since I had it turned up when I pulled into the driveway.  It’s so random how some songs get stuck in my head and others are just meh. Whatever.

So summer’s coming, and that means it’s going to be time once again to be tempted by smoothies. The ones at Tim Horton’s with yogurt in them are sinfully delicious. I’d probably consume far more of them if they didn’t give me brain freeze. You know that feeling, right? When the cold goes through your soft palate and takes a grip on your grey matter like it’s being squeezed by a terrifying version of a snowman? Like the one in that movie with Michael Keaton … Jack Frost. Yeah, that’s the one. Scary. Zombie snowmen who hide in smoothies and eat brains. Wow, stream of consciousness … If I start adding food colouring and yummy fruity flavours to my snowmen next year, get me the hell out of there, would you?

Yeah, I’ll stick to Tim’s coffee from now on. Thanks.

I’ve totally forgotten the prompt at this point. Ah well. Or should I say baa humbug?

This off-topic, almost-entirely sidelined post is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Check it out, and gobble up some of the fun at the following link! https://lindaghill.com/2018/05/11/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-12-18/


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#SoCS – Whoa!

Okay, bear with me. I’m going to tell you what I was thinking about the other day. It was one of those “whoa!!” moments you get, you know? Like when something comes into your head that’s so mind-blowing, you have to think back and try to remember if you’ve just smoked a joint? (For the record, I haven’t, in, like, many many years.) (Too many years to count.) (Like, really, a long time ago.) (I love stream of consciousness writing because it’s like you can’t take it back. It’s just … there.) (Like, whoa.) (Time to go back and see where I was heading with this. Just a sec.)

Oh yeah. The other day. So I was sitting in front of the computer, naturally, and I was reading, and it occurred to me that I was reading.

That’s it! That was my “whoa!!” moment. I was reading!! My eyes were deciphering these lines and squiggles on the screen and making sense of them instantaneously!! I was learning something at the rate it took my eyes to scan from one side of the page to the next. Isn’t that amazing!?!? How fast our brains are to not only recognize letters, but see them in an order that makes words make sense to us?!? It’s crazy, man!!

And now? What’s even better? My fingers are putting these letters on the screen as fast as I can think words (and spell them correctly) so that I can convey to you, (you readers!!) what I was thinking the other day.

It’s, like, WHOA!!

This totally, completely stream of consciousness post that I’m almost afraid to read before I publish because I’m not allowed to edit it (my rules) and I’ll probably delete if I do read it, is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Read (whoa) the rules at the following link and join in! https://lindaghill.com/2018/05/04/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-5-18/

P.S. This post was written under the influence of pasta. No drugs (except caffeine) were consumed prior to the typing (whoa) of the above words. But I may open a bottle of wine now …


23 Comments

Zoned

I love being “in the zone.” Totally concentrated on what I’m doing. Especially when I’m writing. People talk to me and I know somewhere on the edge of consciousness they’re asking me a question. Once, twice, and then maybe the third time they ask, I’ll answer with a completely inappropriate word.

Son: Have you fed the dog?

Me: Cupboard.

Son: Mom?

Me: Uh … the food’s in the cupboard.

Son: I know where it is. Has he eaten yet?

Me: Okay, thanks.

That sort of thing. And they think I’m zoned out, but I’m zoned in, man. Like, totally zoned IN. (Sorry, Cheech and Chong were on Stephen Colbert last week and I seem to be channeling Tommy Chong.) It’s all a matter of perspective. I’m guessing nobody would want to be in my zone with me anyhow. At least not farther into my zone than the filtered version that my writing offers. This zone’s deep and scary, man. Deep and scary.


19 Comments

Xylophone

I have nothing to say about xylophones except that I remember wanting one as a child. To me, they were like pianos you could bash with a hammer. Which was probably why when I got one, it broke. It had keys (do you call them keys? let me look it up … oooh, I learned something new) bars made of rainbow-coloured pieces of metal that eventually sounded less melodic than if I’d had a series of tin cans lined up.

What did I learn? I learned a xylophone has wooden keys and the ones with metal keys are glockenspiels. So there you go: I’ve never owned a xylophone.

I feel like my whole childhood was a lie now. Thanks Wikipedia.


25 Comments

Well, I Never!

Has the cashier in a grocery store ever commented on your purchases? It happens to me once in a while. It happened today, in fact. I had two loaves of bread and a can of salmon on the conveyor. As the cashier scanned them, she said, “Salmon sandwiches.”

“Yeah,” I replied. But then I got to thinking.

What if I’d been buying, say, mouthwash: might she have asked, “Did you forget the garlic bread”?

What about beans: “Better be sleeping alone tonight!”

Toilet paper? “I love this one! So soft.”

Condoms? “Someone’s getting lucky!”

A cucumber? …okay, never mind. You get the picture. Whether you want it or not.

So yeah, it’s probably just my imagination running away with me as usual, but having the cashier comment on my food kinda weirds me out.


38 Comments

Ugly Very Smoke

My illegal following of the A to Z Challenge went off the rails yesterday when I missed the letter “U.” May as well handcuff me and drag me off to blogger jail, because I’m back with “U” and “V” combined today. And I’m a bit of a grumpy camper, so make sure those cuffs are good and tight.

And could we PLEEAASE make blogger jail my room? Where my bed is? ‘Coz I’m sleep-deprived.

You see, last night at (hang on, what does it say on my Fitbit?) 1:29am, my eldest son came into my room and told me I had to get up. Confused, I dragged myself down the stairs trying to make sense of why he was saying he wanted to call 911. Turns out he’d preheated the oven not realizing that he’d spilled butter in it the last time he used it.

There was smoke. There was so much smoke that even with three windows and a door open in the kitchen, my eyes were still watering and my throat still hurt. The oven was off but smoke still billowed out of the vent while it cooled down.

According to my trusty Fitbit, I didn’t get back to bed until 2:11. Where I lay and contemplated the fact that my son woke me up, not my fire alarm.

My best friend, John, came over this morning and changed the batteries in the three (count ’em–THREE) alarms that didn’t work last night, but I haven’t started up the oven to check and see if they’re any better at detecting smoke …

My throat hasn’t recovered yet.

I should probably do that tomorrow. When I HOPE the word of the day won’t be “water.”