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Weekly Contest #370
1800 Hours I hate politicians. My ol’ man said they were the devil. I have to agree now. Pa was an asshole, but there were a few things I learned from him. I became a great farmer, then I excelled in the slaughterhouse business. We made enough money to give Ma a wool coat and me a tractor. I was glad for that. No one wants to be like me because I guess I am like my father now. Like Father, like son, I guess. I don’t think my younger sisters enjoyed the noises or the smells of that butcher barn. We were a small enterprise, and our neighbors k...
Weekly Contest #288
Giostra Farm is just as glorious in winter as it is in the spring. But for the Ponderosa rail fencing that surrounds the farm, you wouldn’t know anything lived under the deep snow. The horses were in their stables in the comfort of blankets and carrots. Their accommodations are four star, according to the top Trio, Truman, Mary and King, Father’s warrior babies. “I love my MacLeod Tartan blanket. It matches the sunset with the yellows!” Said Truman. “Truman, chill, when Hymn comes in don’t show off your silliness!” said Mary. “Let me tell yo...
Weekly Contest #275
The witching hour is every minute for that worrisome rabbit. Upon dusk he worries about the carrots being stolen out of their beds , even if he is the primary culprit. The eggs from Miss Lily’s henhouse tend to disappear when Crow stops over with the pair of raccoons as they sit idle until after sunset. The farm dogs are consistently in heat nightly at all the wrong times of the hour and seasons. They are so stupid. Crow laughs. He is only seeking the friendship of his friend Warren, a brownish grey fluff of cuteness wolf pup. He really does...
I love old estates, the history, the famous people and of course the possibility of ghosts. I did a little research before going to my silent retreat. You never know, even an estate turned religious retreat center, ghosts may find happiness in the nooks and crannies of these historical places! Maybe something happened before it was donated to the Sisters of the Servants of Immaculate Heart of Mary. My research showed that the Neo-French Renaissance estate, was designed in 1927 for Victor Emanuel, a financier and industrialist; it was then p...
Weekly Contest #225
After a long, grueling day, I was looking forward to grabbing a cocktail with some friends. It didn’t turn out that way. He was AOL as usual, and the rest were already off from the job hours ago, and they were too hammered to stay and wait for me. Screw it. I’ll Uber Eats and raise the heat. My backpack, the quirky cork one from Laflore Paris, has my housekey at the ready. This brownstone FBI chose for me is a bit stark, mostly painted white, white appliances, but not sexy white with cool accessories like that my Park Slope neighbors proba...
Weekly Contest #218
We finally found parking on the grass behind the cornfield. Freshly cut grass with a hint of scarecrow. I felt fresh and feisty as the wind carried the scent of the husks over my face and through my hair. We grabbed our sweatshirts as that wind was feeling chilly with the sun saying goodbye to our skin; no need for sunglasses either. As we walked towards the scene that appeared stellar, the Carnival Barker was enticing the evening audience to come by and hear the conjoined sisters sing with their luscious voices in synch with the songs of s...
Weekly Contest #217
I was seventeen when I signed up for the lobster fishing mentorship. I went to the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Vocational High School in Bristol, Maine, past the Lincoln Academy that was set on a hill looking down at us voc-cattle as they called us. We called our school the Longfellow voc school. Funny to name the school after a poet when it’s really a career & tech school with both cosmetology and animal husbandry. I was late for orientation and viewed the sign-up sheets. All mentors were filled except Captain Underpants, or that’s what the...
Weekly Contest #212
To my Dearest Sweet Pancetta, I know how you feel. I was there too, but I tend to like myself, well, actually when you are quiet, like even when my weight is lowered by two pounds, and if I just feel okay about ourselves. So, stop thinking you’re Big, Fat & Ugly-or a Big Fat Pig, think of the Who’s Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy album from 1971. You used to say that when you felt okay not being skinny, because you were sexy & adorable back then, and well even now. Enough Sweetie, enough. Time is not waiting for another pound, or a bathing suit ...
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