"May, we're going to be late!" She grabs my arm and starts in the opposite direction.
"Hold on," I say, "I just need to get my history binder in my backpack and-" I hear the buses start to leave.
"Run!" I slam my locker and try to keep up with Laylah , but she's desperately trying not to miss the bus. She has swim practice every afternoon, right after school, and the girl does NOT like to be late.
By the time we get to the bus loop, the last bus is already pulling out, meaning we already missed ours.
"Look what you did, May. I'll never get to swim on time now." She frowns, and hunches her shoulders in defeat.
I hear a car start, and it stops in front of us. When I look up from the ground, I see that Laylah had waved to the driver. "Excuse me!" She waves harder, and he rolls his window down. The guy has light brown, chesnut colored hair, bright green eyes, and tan skin. I've never seen him at school, but I don't know many of the seniors yet, since I just got in the upperclassmen hallway this year.
"Yes?" He says, looking a bit annoyed.
"I really need to get to swim practice, and we missed the bus, so do you think you could take me there and then drop my sister off at home?"
He stares for a moment. "What's in it for me?" he asks.
"Ummm, twenty bucks?" She takes a bill out of her back pocket and holds it up.
"So what's your name?" He stares and Laylah jumps as if she forgot I was there. "I mean, for safety reasons, obviously. We can't take a ride from a total stranger." I blink, feeling my pale face getting red.
"Cole." he says. "What about you? I know your sister here is Laylah, the most outgoing of all the freshmen this year, but I've never seen you around."
"May" I start to say at the same time Laylah says, "Hey!"
Cole laughs, and Laylah glares at me.
"Well, Cole, I guess we should get going then, so that Laylah's not late."
"Works for me." He says, while taking the twenty out of Laylah's hand. "Climb in." I sit in the back, while Laylah takes the front.
After dropping Laylah off at swim, I get in the front, to make the ride less awkward. He starts driving once I'm buckled.
"So, how about that sister of yours, huh? You two are very different."
"Different how? Not that I care, just asking." Great save, May. Just great.
He chuckles. "She is way more talkative, but also more confident than you are. You fidget and don't talk a whole lot."
I can feel my face go red, and I'm sure he notices.
"But I mean, you're chill. I like chill."
What do I say to that?
"Thanks, I guess." I text my best friend, Anne, to avoid more conversation.
What are you doing?
She replies back instantly.
what do you think?
waiting for my best friend to tell me why her sister just sent me a picture of you in
the front seat of cole mackenzie's car.
It's not a big deal, Anne. He's just giving me a ride home because May and I
missed the bus.
ok, but i get all the details at school tomorrow.
Alright, see you then.
"So who are you texting about me?" Cole asks me, snapping me out of my trance.
My face gets hot. "No one, just talking to my friend about school tomorrow." He definitely isn't buying it.
"You don't have to hide it. It's not like I'm going to be mad, or ask what about."
We pull into my driveway, and neither of my parents are home, judging by the lack of cars.
"It wouldn't be any of your business anyways." I say, trying to sound sassy, but actually just giving myself away. I blush even harder, something I dodn't think was possible.
"You're right. But is this?" He leans in, and right when I think he's going to kiss me, he pulls a note out of the side of the binder I'm holding.
"What is that?" I snap, reaching for it.
He pulls it out of my reach and opens it. "Make sure you kiss her before you leave. -May. The little rascal. I'm going to get her at school, and she'll never see it coming."
I laugh halfheartedly, trying to find the words I'm going to say to her later. "Sorry about her. Anyways, thanks for the ride, it was very nice of you."
"No problem." he says, grinning.
And I walk into my house like any other day.
The Spell of Mexico
The heat of the blazing sun beats down upon the sands
On the beaches along the coast of Mexico’s Cancun.
Lazy days, drinks in hand, it’s where life has no demands;
Summers like these are few and never come too soon.
Sailboats drifting swiftly across the crystal blue waters
While a multitude of peddlers sell homemade wares.
There’s nothing as wonderful as this side of the border
Where the people are so kind and beyond compare.
Nights under the stars with the soft sound of waves,
Colors of music drifting to fill the hearts of all.
It’s something for which my soul will always crave
And with the utmost fondness shall always recall.
The lush heat and beauty of Mexico’s coast compels
And beckons to me in summer, weaving me in its spell.
Cooking with millstones
this season is all about refreshing , low-silicate sedimentary rocks, and nothing is more welcome on the dinnertable then a beautufully rounded millstone.
some allow for using basalts in their kitchens, and i even heard of people using granites, but a real millstone is made with critenous, or dolemite in mind. if in doubt, ask your quarrymonger to drizzle some sulfuric acid, to test the calcium. dont bevshy. this is your right! remember the old timy rule: if it fizzle-let it sizzle, if no spume - sandstone assume.
now, i've said it once and i've said it again. the personal relation you develop with your local stonemonger really goes a long way to define your table in the end. they are all too eager to give you a piece of pumice with a hole cut in the middle in the middle (not even that always..) and call it a day.
no! if you show what you're about, and demand to see wearsigns, and axle notches then they know not to mess around. the next time you come they not only won't dare monkey business, they'll even give you some good suggestions at what minerals you can buy, and which formations to shunn. i usually serve a millstone with quickly tossed shale, or some flint. maybe saureed alabaster. but its really up to you. just avoid the temptation to use obsidian!!!
preperation is relatively easy. you marinate the millstone in some high-density petroleum tar, disslove it in a preheated oven, and slather richly. save the leftover sauce for later!!
let it sit in the tar for at least four hours.
using a diamond tipped myter saw, cut 3-5inch notches into the meat in a diagonal crosshatch and rub into the cuts some nice freshly grown parsley, rosmary and flintpowder. its messy, i know but use your fingers. a spoon doesnt reach all the parts.
let the stone sit for another hour, mean time you can start heating up the grill and tossing up the shale (my secret is to rub the shale slates with some creosote and THEN the vinigrette, but to each his own...
once the fire is nice and the coals are red, gently put the millstone on the grill. it's going to be a bit of a challenge turning it over again and again without breaking, so be very careful. if you must, use some skewers to reinforce the meat.
BEFORE you turn over, base the top part with the leftover petrokeum tar. you wont get another chance to do this later. spread the tar generously, the smell is just insane.
once you turned the millstone over time is of the essencee. the calcium wants to oxydise and if you let it, you just plaster. of course i love me some plaster, but its not healthy to overdue. pkus you lose much of the deeper flavor. basing it all in petroleum really helps with sealing the crabonatious chondrite in.
once the millstone is properly cooked just scrape it off the grill and serve.
W O R D S
Flowing from our mouths,
Like crystal water that resembles blue skies on a warm day,
We talk but do we speak?
Or repeat someone else's sentences,
The message cannot be conveyed without the right words,
It's the smallest nuances we take for granted,
Words should have meaning,
Like sounds have exclamations,
The power in syllables,
Can bring sound to the deaf,
And a picture to the blind,
Word it right,
And you'll never have to lie.
Perfection Is Parasitic
Striving for unrealistic goals,
Because my determination won't let them go
Forgetting I'm a human that needs rest,
Working is so addictive,
Aiming to be the best,
It's like an amoeba that's eats your mind slowly,
The magic lies in being happy,
Not chasing reckless dreams,
Balance is the key it seems
A wooden door inside of myself I still need to unlock,
The one where I can stop being a perfectionist.
Start of a Smile
It all started with a smile
I tentatively approached you as if I had just run a mile
Trudging through surreptitiously and hoping you’d catch a clue
I wanted to talk to you
But I didn’t know what to do!
So instead of saying hi, I tiptoed by
Then I finally cracked a smile
A grin so wry
And I held out a hand and made a proposition
”I think there’s something you should try!”
I bit back a sigh as you began to muse
Then your face morphed from puzzled to enthused
”Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
Thus began the ceaseless running gag
Whose consistency could rival Sisyphus’s routine
It just never ends
And I hope it’ll live on and on
Thanks for being my friend
And I wish you the best
Until we meet again
Cooking with Lignite
remember the film 'Zorba the greek' its all about mining lignite. those mediterrenian peculiaritues are just what i lool for..
i know what you're going to say: 'no one cooks lignite.' and it's true to some extent. bituminuos or anthracite have a better showing on the dinnertable when you need to whip up something for a family.
but i have a guilty secret: i never buy that expensive stuff and no one knows the difference.
you see, the secret to making use of a few choice slabs is reduction and liquidication. sure the solubility ratio is different, sure you get a different viscocity, but lignite is MUCH richer in magnesium and phosphorus, and the crystalline aftertaste leavs hints of pottasium and zinc.
i was first introduced to lignite by my nana. she always cooked lignite. she came from different times, when any mineral that you were lucky to dig out would go into the pot. some melted non-ferrous metals, or freshly mined silicates. but you make do with what you got , and sometimes this is what you need to get a culinary masterpiece.
in a preheated furnace (900°c ) add a straight flow of oxydizing retardents (arsenic works best, but don't overdue it. ) add the lignite. do not let it oxydise yet!!
now, as gass convection kicks in, add the plutonium. don't go overboard with the enrichment level. its all good and no one can tell the difference. now, reduce the temperature and wisk in flakes of rhodite, and manganese. the manganese should alloy well with the plutonium so give it time.
now, in a separste pot mix sulfuric and fluoric scid in equal proportions. add the eggs, and the celery and whisk. let the reaction cool.
once the lignite begins to leech out some of of the famous calcite deposits add salt, galium and cesium (i know, cesium is pasé, but you just cant do lignite witout good cesium).
the raise the temperature a bit, and add the boron.
let the mix cook for about two hours. then pour onto a teflon coverrd mold. be sure to scrspe the bottom of the pot, and as you do add in the acid and egg mix, the instant heating will cause the residue to bond with the scarping, and you'll get a gravy that is not too rich , but definitely adds a refreshing taste as you drizzle over the lignite,
once it cooled. test to see if the mix is not too hard, and serve with some potatos and a nice salad (one of those guilty plessures i was talking about, is to drizzle some of that gravy on the greens.
so to answer the question, yes. we need another moon. one is just not enough. can you imagine having a garden dinner, serving the lignite with only the light of one moon?!?!
The Mind Is A Symphony
Procrastinating is the processing of the next project,
It's not being lazy or waiting for rejects,
The mind is trying to get every musician and instrument,
Into the right position, it's preparation not amusement
On the outside you are nothing but a thinker,
But inside you are the conductor,
The one who takes a sheet of notes and turns them into a refined melody akin to a bee who turns nectar into sweet
It's a sacred routine that very few understand easily,
Creativity is a symphony, people love the harmony
But never stop to observe the chaos that created that same beauty.
Cumulus colorless clouds cover crabs cloyly cooing climatic communication coveting cohesion chiefly clubbing catfish crimson.