tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post6975686580300981838..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Sunday October 4th, 2009Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-18159376121281595872009-10-06T05:28:06.098-07:002009-10-06T05:28:06.098-07:00I assure you, Marc, that was pure fiction. The Hus...I assure you, Marc, that was pure fiction. The Husband is bald, and was when I met him. Not to mention we're an old married couple and food comes first!Monica Manninghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15261586665831377609noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-35018501185048364492009-10-05T17:45:17.602-07:002009-10-05T17:45:17.602-07:00Greg - that's a fine idea, actually. I think I...Greg - that's a fine idea, actually. I think I'll give it a whirl on Wednesday and see what happens.<br /><br />That's some yummy sounding comfort food you have there. I really liked your first stanza.<br /><br />Monica - that's a wonderfully vivid and intimate scene. Thank you for sharing it with us :)Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-76080746141306588522009-10-05T06:54:45.667-07:002009-10-05T06:54:45.667-07:00The sun penetrates through the blinds; bright stri...The sun penetrates through the blinds; bright stripes dance across our sleeping bodies. The smell of brewing coffee nudges me awake and I send a silent thank you to the gods for inventing automatic coffee makers. <br /><br />A grunt behind me lets me know that my love is also waking. He turns towards me and wraps a possessive arm around me, drags me closer to nuzzle into my neck. I turn to face him and push his hair from his eyes. He needs a haircut. But we’re newlyweds, and we have better things to do. <br /><br />I hear the grumble of his stomach—an angry demand for fuel. He opens an eye and I raise an eyebrow in question. We both laugh. I sit up and ask what he wants for breakfast. <br /><br /><i>I can make pancakes,</i> I offer, <i>or how about French toast with some bacon? Or I could make an omelette with sausage and fried potatoes. Or how about …</i><br /><br />He just stares at me and a grin slowly begins to spread across his face. I know that look. I’ve been seeing that look quite a bit lately. But before I can stop him, he wraps an arm around my waist and traps me between him and the bed.<br /><br /><i>Alright,</i> I concede. <i>Breakfast can wait.</i>Monica Manninghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15261586665831377609noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-69530260287404476002009-10-05T00:49:36.427-07:002009-10-05T00:49:36.427-07:00I'm in two minds about whether or not to see J...I'm in two minds about whether or not to see Julia and Julia. I know I'd enjoying the cooking aspect of it, but I'm not much of a Meryl Streep fan either. I may mull it over a while longer.<br /><br />The soup and veggies sound much better than the food in your poem -- I wonder if you're channeling Aunt Gretchen from two days ago again?<br /><br />By the way, if you fancy a prompt any day this week, why not try taking up the Round III challenge from the Poetry Tournament and writing without using visual description? I'm sure you can do just as good a job as any of the competitors ;-)<br /><br />And... comfort food. Oddly enough I was listening to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVT8t0oHdWY" rel="nofollow">Heavy Fuel</a> on my to work this morning; not quite the same thing, but close enough!<br /><br />Comfort food<br /><br />Another empty plate laid before me,<br />Smears of egg and ketchup left to tempt me,<br />Into the sink<br />Before I can think<br />That I'm standing here feeling sad and lonely.<br /><br />But after my shift comes to its end,<br />I seat myself and feel my mood mend,<br />Eggs, sausage, bacon,<br />Beans and toast are makin'<br />Comfort food, food that is my friend.Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com