What you’re about to read is a fifteen minute stream of consciousness. From my mind. Scary, huh? Timer set. Okay, go!
I’ve been listening to Adele’s “21” endlessly tonight, which has inspired a great scene for my next novel. I’m getting so anxious to get back to work on it, but I really feel I need the discipline of sticking with this short story writing for now. I have a feeling I may be putting together the most eclectic collection ever.
I was thinking about the word craze today, as in trend, fad, or as my mother would say “all the go”. What set it off was seeing someone’s smile today … or rather being blinded by someone’s smile. What is this craze for unnaturally white teeth? I don’t get it.
Of course, I’ve been craze guilty myself. Not so much lately, but I certainly remember my Twiggy-look for a while in high school. For a brief time between Twiggy and Flower Child, I had a fling with Preppie, but only because I was trying to fit in. LOL … as if.
I gave the crockpot a try today. Followed a recipe and everything, which is not like me at all, but after eight hours, the roast wasn’t done. We ended up having breakfast for dinner. Two hours later (the upper time limit) the roast still wasn’t done. Left it in for another hour, and we’ll have it for dinner tonight. Crockpots hate me.
I’ve made the decision to try the Kindle Select program for The Brevity of Roses digital version. That means, in part, that I’ll soon be offering the ebook FREE for two days, so stay tuned. I’ll need your help.
Oops, timer went off.
9 thoughts on “A fifteen minute craze … or maybe just crazy?”
You sound like me. And I so hate crockpots. I’ve tried them countless times, but you know, give me my big old fashioned cast iron “ishfrik” from my grandmother and a couple hours in the oven and I’m good to go.
You know they say, crockpots are good for putting stuff in in the morning and then leaving it go all day, but how can you actually feel comfortable with leaving the house and leaving something plugged in like that? I always think fire. Maybe that’s just me.
I could go on here, but I won’t.
The crockpot usually sits on my shelf taunting me, Anne. It offers a challenge. I keep telling myself it’s just a matter of finding the correct recipe. 🙂 However, since I’m usually home all day anyway, I don’t really have the fire concern. Though I wonder, if I used it overnight would I wake up repeatedly with that fear?
Never heard the term ishfrik. I’m off to look it up.
Sadly, I was today’s woman, yesterday. Twiggy didn’t have shoulders and I had Shoulders. If I had been in any doubt, on my way to a party in my lovely orange sleeveless box pleat dress made by my mother, my dad nodded approvingly then said ‘Who’s my little prop forward, then?’. That, in case you’re not familiar with rugby, is the bloke who looks like any one of an American football team only not wearing armour. I turned back and put on a cardigan 😦
Crockpots? The clue is in the name: of archaeological interest only and probably bonkers. if you can’t do it in a pan in half an hour, it’s a waste of good prevaricating time!
I don’t think you’ll ever find “ishfrik” in any kind of dictionary. It’s just a word we’ve used for this huge cast iron pot my mother inherited from my grandmother. Makes unbelievable roasts.
And also, that’s the phonetic spelling. I have no idea what language it even comes from.
Maybe it’s derived from the original ‘Ish frickin’ fantastic’ as uttered by an impressed diner who had also consumed a quantity of moonshine?
You’re on a roll this weekend, Suzanne. 🙂
Right, Anne, I didn’t find it. Thanks for explaining.
Regarding the crockpot – it had to be the instructions, not the cook. Not unless it was accidentally set on “warm”, which I’ve done before.
Having breakfast for dinner isn’t so bad.
Nope, it wasn’t set on warm, David. And yes, we’ve had breakfast for dinner many times. In fact, I rarely eat a big breakfast because it takes my stomach a long time to wake up in the morning. Unfortunately, my husband wakes starved.