Sep 3, 2011
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
This is another Writer’s Digest Community Writing Prompt from last year.
SONGS: Take two of your favorite songs, and match up a line from the chorus of one with a line from the chorus of the other. Then, write a scene that starts with the first lyric, and ends with the second.
“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” he asked with a smile; his smile.
“It’s too early to think about that right now.” I tried hard not to fall under his spell. I was certain, however, that my clumsy efforts to avoid his gaze made me look like a fish out of water. A giant, washed-ashore, debilitated, practically dying, fish out of water.
He chuckled as if I were a cute toddler learning to walk. Emotionally, he wasn’t too far off. But I was planets away from letting him discover my reserves. And so I played it off by opening my datebook for evidence.
Datebook. How much more oxymoronic could it be. It was a personal jab, how these bound leather-jacketed pages screamed to be opened to reveal nothing of what they promised. Grocery lists. Doctor appointments. Work assignments. Contact information. Anything and everything. Except dates.
“Here,” I poked. “See? Today’s only – ”
He refused to let me finish. He gently wrapped his strong manhand around my accusatory finger. I’m pretty sure we lit the place up all by ourselves. It was painfully enjoyable.
He sat across from me, playing with my hand atop the café table. Gently pushing and pulling information. So easily, I didn’t even realize I was giving up bits and pieces. So earnestly, I forgot to lie.
“Wait,” I breathed, gripping the table for stability. Wait, I commanded myself.
“What’s wrong?” he leaned forward in his concern.
“You’re making it worse!” I edged my chair back.
“What?” he mock-gasped; knowing full well what I meant. I looked anywhere but at him. If I let go of the table, I would certainly float beyond the neon stars above us in my bliss.
He took my hand again, tethering me to himself. I would not fly away.
“Let’s walk.” It was a gentle command; for he was already rising from his seat, taking his coat and coffee with him. I followed numbly, playing his grown-up game of Simon Says.
He led me over the concrete path, through the intermittent crowds, under the trees raining color upon us. I shivered from the all-consuming experience and he quickly pulled me to the side of the path. Under a dim yellow lamppost, he brought his coat behind me and pulled it around me. I was surrounded by the scent of him. His warm hands soothed the collar around my neck and I shivered all the more, embarrassed that such gentlemanly care could turn me to Jell-O. I knew better than to try to speak.
A red-golden leaf fell between us, startling us both into chuckles. My pent-up, heightened awareness took advantage of my fallen guard; and my body convulsed into a loud symphony of laughter, letting go of all that was in me.
He joined with me, his baritone sound in harmony with my soprano.
A tear of relief sprang to life on my cold cheeks. Still laughing, still holding me close by the collar of his own coat, he raised one hand to tenderly thumb it away. I closed my eyes to avoid showing him inside me; but I felt his presence, his touch. He was not going anywhere.
“Hey.” He whispered. I hesitantly opened my lids to see his breath on the air. He placed a gentle kiss on my lips, and the warmth flooded me, staying even after he withdrew to look at me again.
His smile was new. It was mine. “So, what does your datebook say about tonight?”
I smiled back. “It’s Autumn.” With all it’s joyously colorful experiences. “Autumn in New York.”
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Sep 2, 2011
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
I’m the first to admit, whenever I hear “Ratatouille” I think of Remy the Rat and Alfredo Linguini from the Disney movie. That is, in fact, what inspired my first attempt at making this dish.
This dish is super easy, super cheap, and super delicious. It can be eaten as a main dish with bread sticks, or tossed onto pasta. I add the cooked veggies onto crust and sauce for a homemade pizza. It freezes great, and reheats in the microwave. However you choose, enjoy!
VEGETABLE INGREDIENTS:
1 medium eggplant
2 medium zucchini
2 cups cut mushrooms
5 Roma tomatoes
1 medium onion
1 green bell pepper
1 red or yellow bell pepper
OIL INGREDIENTS:
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 to 4 fresh pressed garlic cloves (depending on size and how much garlic you like)
1 TBSP dried Italian seasoning mix (I prefer Pampered Chef or McCormick)
Chop all vegetables and set half of each aside. Layer the first half of each in the crock pot in this order: Eggplant, zucchini, mushroom, tomato, onion, bell peppers.
In a small bowl, combine olive oil, pressed garlic, and Italian seasonings. Mix well. Drizzle half over the layered vegetables.
Repeat the layers of vegetables, drizzle with remaining oil mix.
Cover, and let sit on medium low for 5 or more hours, or on high for 2 hours. Stir halfway to blend juices, vegetables, and oil.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 31, 2011
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
When I get to New York
It will be in the fall
When the leaves turn red and gold and yellow
And drop precariously all around.
When the crisp air carries
A promise of change
I will arrive on a train
Through Grand Central Station
And before I even enter the City
I will shop
And eat
And people-watch.
I will take a yellow taxi cab
To Central Park
And run along the paths
Before I buy a bag of roasted nuts
And sit on a green bench
To enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells.
I will think of the movies
And the songs
And the stories
That have filled my head and heart
With such wanderlust
That brings me there.
I will wait until the sun sets
And make my way
To Broadway
Where I will stand on the sidewalk
With arms open wide
And voice lifted high
And people will stare at me
But most will smile and applaud
In understanding.
I will quiet myself as I enter
The theatre
And hum quietly along
As I take it all in
And vicariously live a musical.
I will find a street vendor
For exhaust-flavored hot dogs and coffee
And stroll through the streets
Through the night
Until I find myself
Like Holly Golightly
Looking through early morning windows
At Tiffany’s
And their beautiful blue boxes.
I’ll lay my head on a pillow
At the Plaza
And wake to look over
The City that Never Sleeps.
I’ll walk underground
And ride the metal beasts
Of the Subway
From one end to the other.
I’ll go to Yankee Stadium
And cheer out loud
For my team.
I’ll ride the ferry
To Ellis Island
And remember how this Great Country
Was, is, and will be.
I’ll tread lightly at the Library
And smell pages and pages
Of History
Fantasy, Reality, and Life.
I’ll stroll through the Village
And eat treats unheard of
And pretend I belong in Soho
If just for the day.
I’ll skate at Rockefeller Center
And laugh when I fall down.
When the lights come to life
I’ll find myself exiting
The elevator on top
Of the Empire State Building
And again I’ll sing songs
While holding my breath
As I look over the expanse
And make more dreams
Than I knew I could hold inside me.
I’ll awake with my muses
Flying rapidly about
Onto paper and thoughts
And take myself to the MoMA
To let it all in
And let myself out.
I’ll sit on a bench
And instead of writing
I’ll look around
Until
I’ll close my eyes and see it all
I’ll open my ears and hear whispers
I’ll speak later, when I find my words.
I’ll walk in a daze
Down 34th Street
And find myself
In the miracles of Macy’s
And all it has to offer.
I’ll listen to street musicians
And tap my tennis shoes to the beat
Until my dancing feet
Take me
To Times Square
Where
In the midst of possibly everything
I will finally just stop
And stand there
In awe
Of neon lights
And honking horns
And tourists
Just like me.
I will buy me a keychain
And a statue of the Statue.
Then I will make my way
Home
And write it all out
As bits and pieces
Come back to me
Until
I
Come back
To it.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
