fluid

Lemonade hits the spot on a hot summer's day. Some people drink iced tea. I don't care for tea. The leafy, herbal flavor tastes bitter on my tongue. The sweet and sour of the yellow citrus beverage brings shivers with each sip. It's what I drink when I want something a bit stronger than plain water. I don't drink soda, either.

Gin and Tonic with a wedge of lime tastes good, too. I'm not opposed to an alcoholic drink. No prohibition bullshit for me. Some people can't handle their liquor, but I'm not like them, so I'm going to have a drink when I feel like. A Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon was best during Winter. They were heavier, warmer.

Milk went best with spaghetti. My mother's spaghetti. She wasn't Italian. She was German. Her spaghetti sauce was brown because it was mostly ground beef with lots of browned onions. The tomato sauce was just a condiment. There's be lots of left over spaghetti noodles. Those would be turned into a breakfast treat. She brown plain bread crumbs in butter, add the cooked noodles and top them with white sugar. Milk was a must with this dish, too.

Both of these noodle dishes are my favorite meals. They are my comfort foods. Literally. Both will put me into a carbohydrate stupor more effective than any calming drug. I need a lot of calming. Too much activity, too many questions, any excessive behavior must be squashed. Don't wiggle, jiggle or giggle. Have a cookie and be quiet.

Water is the best drink, though. Cold. I drink water all day. I prefer seltzer. The bubbles wake up my tongue. I don't know why the bubbles are good, but they make the water more yummy. I like the brand Vintage for my seltzer water and my tonic water. That brand has the best flavor for both.

I should have perfect skin and be the picture of health with all of the water I drink. I bet I'm more water than most people. Tests have shown that the average is 60% for the average male and 50% for the average female. Apparently, age, health, weight and sex all affect how much water is in a person's body. I think I must be at least 75% water. I'm an overachiever.

Oh, I almost forgot coffee. I don't really like coffee. I need it. First thing in the morning, I must have brewed coffee, black. A nice dark roast. I require two cups before anyone is even allowed to look at me. You'd be jeopardizing your life by talking to me before I've had three. Another two cups and I begin to function like a normal human being. I don't drink any coffee after eleven in the morning. I'd be up all night, the agitation creeping through my flesh and keeping my mind spinning. I don't like the taste of the stuff. It's bitter, but the idea of milk and sugar in it makes me queasy. The only way to have sweetened creamy coffee is as ice cream.

mind dump or drunk writing on a sunday night

One prompt for today suggested I write a list; a list of anything. This is not tickling my fancy. What is making me do a happy dance - while sitting in my cushy chair with my feet up - is this lovely little G & T. It’s not really little but it sure is lovely. Ice cold gin is a joy, a gift from the gods. And with the tonic, I will forever be protected from malaria which is a clear and present danger in New Jersey. I wouldn’t lie to you. I would and you’d enjoy it.

I didn’t write first thing this morning. I was at my daughter’s house and I didn’t get my coffee in a timely fashion and I didn’t have a table to set up my iPad. All of this is bullshit because I could have worked around it all but I didn’t. So shoot me. I am writing now. It’s scintillating and well worth the wait.  

The drive to her house or back to mine takes about one and a half hours. She lives in the Lancaster, Pennsylvania area. I live in New Jersey across the Delaware River from North East Philadelphia. I always want to fall asleep if I’m on a drive of more than a half hour. I’m prone to daydreaming, too, which makes me sleepy. The sky was full of big poofy clouds. I wanted to crawl up into them and cuddle and snuggle like in my grandmother’s feather beds. We used to sleep with the windows wide open in winter; it made sleeping under the down comforters comforting. I felt safe and warm.

It’s Sunday afternoon. Weekends are never long enough. Sometimes they are too long. Have you ever noticed how life is so full of noise. There’s no quiet anywhere. The only sounds that calm me down are either rain on the windows or a breeze in the trees. These sounds are a soothing white noise that help me feel at peace. They’re like someone petting my brain. I can see the sparking along my synapses dampening like a gas burner being turned down. The heat never goes away completely but it becomes manageable.

I’ve made it a whole week, seven days of writing every day. All I have to do is keep doing it. So easy, yet so hard. Mostly its the voices, those voices that badger me with thoughts of “why bother?” The voices peck at me like black birds ignoring a scare crow. Whose fooled by this bull shit? Not me because I want to give up every single moment of every single day. I really, this dream I have is laughable. Believe me, no one laughs hard than I do. And then I have a panic attack. Time is running out. I can’t die without doing this. I just can’t. I hyperventilate. I can’t see straight. The voices peck me raw and yet I can’t allow myself to die without making the attempt. I just fucking can’t.

flash 55 - cleanliness

~click to make biggerer~

How neat and clean are your home and house?

Have you rid yourself of every villainous louse?

If someone has infected your heart with a germ,

leaving your soul sick and your mind infirm;

if your days are rife with unending strife:

you must purge anything evil and demonic

with an immeasurable gin and tonic.

Don't forget to play with The G-Man each week.