Four Twenty: Word Counters

  

 

 

Counting my words again. 

Today my fellow Word Counters and I are sharing our monthly group post. Each month one group member picks  a number between 12 and 50. All participating bloggers are then challenged to write something (or a few somethings, as the case may be) using that exact number of words. Today we all share what we came up with.

 

This month's number is 42. 

It was chosen by Diane of On the Border.

 

 

 

~ This month, I'm talking about today's number. Sort of. But switching it up adding a zero, to be exact. Inspired by the number Diane chose, I'd like to discuss 420. No, not blackbirds, that's four and twenty. I love pie, but blackbirdless.

~ And I'm not talking about my anniversary, (though it is 4/20) nor how I celebrate (although spoiler alert: I don't bake bird pies and I only once spent it searching for pot, and found it, but, that's a story for another day).

 

~ You may have guessed, what I'm talking about is 420 in the context of World Weed Day. I was set on this path by two diametrically opposite political attitudes. First, Biden commuted the sentences of 75 Americans convicted of nonviolent drug crimes.

~ The other is Nebraska's governor attempting to sue Colorado over Colorado's marijuana legalization. Talk about sticking your nose in your neighbor's business. Nebraska's Ricketts has (yes, fairly recently) said that cannabis is a gateway drug, and legalization "is gonna kill your kids." 

 

 

~All of this is easily paralleled to the Covid situation. Ignorance should not trump (yes, pun intended) science, and yet it does. In both instances. There are also parallels to prohibition, which didn't end alcohol use, just made the distilling unregulated, unsafe.

 

~Fun 4/20 story: Back in the 1970s a group of California high school kids (called themselves "the Waldos") used to meet after school at 4:20 to smoke pot together. Later, according to urban legend, they'd search for a rumored deserted marijuana patch.

~ The Waldos never found it (ha, Waldo humor), but 420 became their secret code. Not for long (after all, there are no secrets in high school). AND, the brother of one of the kids in the group was friends with a musician.

~ That musician's band? The Grateful Dead. The boys shared with the band, their secret code for getting high (I can imagine the conversation, over heart shaped munchies, I'm sure). The band began using it and sharing it, and the rest is history.

 

 

 

 

Peppermint Heart Meringues

 

 

~ Like alcohol, marijuana is here to stay. The schedule one status is obsolescent, the punishment associated with it, abusively severe. Legalizing it, acknowledging this drug's therapeutic value ensures its properties can be appropriately studied, dosages scientifically developed, and medical use sales regulated.

 

~ I don't advocate everyone smoke pot. I believe that pot, including recreational, should be legal. But let's at least start with compassion, for those with chronic pain, glaucoma, anxiety . . . we cannot continue to allow an archaic unscientific stance to usurp their relief.

 

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

Peppermint Heart Meringues

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients: 

3 egg whites

1/4 tsp cream of tartar

1/8 tsp salt

1/2 tsp peppermint extract

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup finely crushed candy canes or starlight mint candies

3 TBSP multicolored nonpareils

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper.

*Beat the egg whites, on high speed until they get foamy. Add the cream of tartar and salt, and continue to beat until soft peaks form. 

*Add the peppermint extract and, 1/4 cup at a time, at about 30 second intervals, add the sugar and the finely crushed mints. Continue to bear at high speed until stiff peaks hold.

*Using a pencil, draw 15 hearts on the parchment paper, about 3 inches tall each. Turn the parchment paper over. This is important, do not pipe your hearts onto the side with the pencil on it.

*Spoon about half of the meringue into a piping bag or a gallon sized plastic bag with the tip cut off. Following the lines on the other side of the parchment paper, pipe the outline of the hearts.

*Using a knife, scoop the remaining meringue into the hearts and spread to fill them. Sprinkle with the nonpareils.

*Bake for 15 minutes. Turn the oven off, leaving the meringues inside for another 20 minutes. Remove from the oven, allow to sit for 10 minutes, then and carefully peel off of the parchment paper.

Long Lonesome Detour: Use Your Words

 

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. All of the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s  participating knows who got their words and in what direction the recipient will take them. Until now. 

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.

I'm using:  lost ~ highway ~ dark ~ metallic ~ rosy ~ laughter
They were submitted by Jenniy of Climaxed.

 

 

                          
"On a long lonesome highway, east of Omaha." 

Wait. Lost, not long? 

OK. Lost on a long lonesome highway, east of Omaha.

Bob Seger "Turn the Page" earworm aside, I gotta tell you, if you're looking for a long lonesome highway, west of Omaha is the way to go.

East of Omaha, well, way, way east, is "Boston you're my home."

For those of you not in the know, that's a quote from one of Boston's iconic songs.

There are a few songs well known as being associated with Boston. Not exactly complimentary, but . . . One of them is Dirty Water," sung by the Standells. It's about the not so clean Charles River: 

"Down by the river,

down by the banks of the river Charles."
"That's where you'll find me,

along with lovers, muggers and thieves."
"Well, I love that dirty water,

Oh, oh, Boston you're my home."

Yeah, we're super proud of that one.

And then there's "Charlie on the M.T.A." (the Metropolitan Transit Authority, Boston's subway system) sung by The Kingston Trio. It's actually a really fun, funny, and political song about a man who got onto the M.T.A. and due to price increases could not get off:

"Charlie handed in his dime at the Kendall Square station,

and he changed for Jamaica Plain,

when he got there the conductor told him "one more nickel," 

Charlie couldn't get off of that train."

"Did he ever return?

No, he never returned, and is fate is still unlearned, poor old Charlie.

He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston,

he's the man who never returned."

Boston may be a place of beloved dirty water and never ending M.T.A. rides, but it is decidedly not a place where you'd find long lonesome highways. Unless it's first thing in the morning on New Year's day. Which is where I found myself many years ago.

I don't remember the exact year, certainly long before cell phones, which would have impacted my situation greatly. I think that I was home from college for winter break, and staying at my dad's house. He and his wife were going on vacation, they were leaving at dark o'clock in the morning of New Year's day, and guess who was elected to drive them to the airport.

If you know Boston traffic (or can even imagine it), you'll understand why, on the way back, I'd mistakenly think that my 30 minute drive would be a breeze. Everything was rosy, I had the highway to myself! No traffic congestion, no one merging at the expense of the life of others (me), no one weaving in and out of traffic. The revelers from the night before had made their way wherever, and no one in their right mind was awake yet. 

But what about someone not necessarily in their right mind?

 

 

 

I had just started out,was cruising along in dad's big metallic land boat, radio turned up high, when a car pulled up beside me. OK, there was one other person on the road. But he looked at me, then he pulled behind me. And stayed there. 

I was concerned. So concerned that I was watching him more than the road, and missed the turnoff to the other highway that would take me home. By the time I figured that out, I was, well, who knows where.

I was lost. I needed to get off that highway, but was afraid to take just any exit, I didn't want to end up on any route where I may have to stop at a light, not with this guy behind me.

 

So I needed to get off that highway, and I needed to not get off that highway.

At one point he came up beside me again and was waving at me to pull over. Nope. Maybe he was a nice guy, wanting to buy me a cup of coffee. Maybe his plans included me sleeping with the fish in the dirty water of the Charles River (insert maniacal laughter here). I wasn't about to find out, after all, I had kids to make, sweets to bake, pies in which to partake . . . 

 

 

Caramel Oreo Pie

 

 

I kept driving, he kept following, and I started singing snippets of those 3 songs still jumbling around in my head.

 

(singing): Will she ever return, no she'll never return, and her fate is still unlearned . . . 

I'm happy to report that I neither ended up taking a long nap in the Charles River, nor suffered Charlie of the MTA's fate (but it was close). 

  

 (singing): "Charlie's wife goes down to the Scolly Square station,

every day, at quarter past two,

and through the open window she hands Charlie a sandwich,

as the train comes rumbling through!"

The guy followed me for a while, tried again to get me to pull over, followed me some more. At some point he took an exit. I, of course was still lost. And nothing was open.

(singing): "And you don't feel much like ridin', you just wish the trip was though." 

 

Now I could get off . . . but where? 

My strategy turned out to be taking any route with a number I recognized, till I got to another route with a number I recognized, heading in a direction I thought I needed to go, until I eventually (miraculously) made it to my home town.

(singing): "You pretend it doesn't bother you but you just want to explode."

Although it had been a while since I'd seen the guy, I was spooked. I didn't want to go to dad's empty house, down a long lonesome driveway, (with woods on one side and backing up to the reservoir), so I went to Mom's. I parked the car in her driveway, ran into the house and locked the door. My 30 minute drive had only taken 3 hours.

Mom: Hi, I'm surprised to see you here.

Me: I'm just coming back from the airport.

Mom: Now? Their flight was hours ago.

Me: I took a little detour.

Mom: Oh, where?
Me: I kinda came home via Cape Cod.

Mom: Cape Cod???

Me: Don't ask. 

Mom: {{blink, blink}}.

Me: Got any pie?

 

 

 

 

Here are links to all the other Use Your Words posts:

 

Climaxed

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 

On the Border 

 

Caramel Oreo Pie         

                                                                         ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 (9 inch) Oreo pie crust

3 egg yolks

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk

1/3 cup caramel sauce

1/2 tsp vanilla

6 Oreo cookies, crushed 

 

OPT: chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and/or whipped cream for serving

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*Whisk together the egg yolks, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, and caramel sauce.
*Mix in the crushed cookies. Pour into the crust and bake for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven carefully, the pie will be browned but the center will not have set yet.

*Allow to cool to room temperature before refrigerating. Once pie is cold, slice and serve topped with chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and/or whipped cream for serving, if desired. Keep leftovers covered and refrigerated.

The Case for Stuffed: Poetry Monday

 

 

 

Poetry Monday's once a week.

I bet you know which day.

I don't participate every time,

But today I've come out to play.

My friends assign each week a theme,

Stuffed Animals, what they chose.

Now it's up to all of us,

to put our thoughts into prose.

 

 

 

 

 

The Case for Stuffed

Pets are known to bring us

neverending joy.

I know we like to play with them,

yet they think that we're the toy.

Whenever we're sad or upset,

they'll be by our side.

Lovingly lick our face,

till those tears have dried.

They're our loyal companions,

so alone we never feel,

(and I'm sure it's not just that

they're looking for their next meal).

But oh, how we spoil them, 

seems they're always in the mood,

to allow us share with them

all of our favorite food.

 

 

 

Maple Bacon Bread

 

 

 

But . . .

 

 

 

 

When it comes to stuffed animals,

here's the honest scoop:

there's no tripping over leashes,

wrapped around you in a loop. 

No danger of them fighting,

get along in any group,

and never will you find yourself

picking up . . . you know . . . their poop.

 

 

 

 

Wait!

Read more poetry, 

you're not through.

Some talented writers

are in this crew:

 

On the Border

Messymimi's Meanderings 

Mother Owl 

 

Maple Bacon Bread        

                                                                                 ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
2 1/2 cups flour plus 1 tsp

1 TBSP baking powder

1 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1 cup milk

1/2 cup oil

3/4 cup dark maple syrup

1 egg

3/4 cup cream cheese baking chips (can substitute cinnamon baking chips)

5 slices thick cut bacon, cooked and chopped

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a loaf pan.

*Whisk 2 1/2 cups of the flour with the baking powder, salt, and cinnamon.

*Whisk in the milk, oil, maple syrup, and egg.

*Toss the baking chips with the remaining 1 tsp of flour. Mix into the dough, along with the chopped bacon.

*Pour evenly into the prepared pan. Bake for 45 - 55 minutes, until the center of the top springs back to the touch.

*Cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the edges and remove from the loaf pan.