"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked.

He looked down at the ground

knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would
only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted
was to leave her?
“Ingredients for life,” said the backside of the truck. They mean food, but really food is
only 1 ingredient of life. Life has so many more ingredients such as pain, happiness,
laughter, joy, tears, and smiles. Life also has hard work, easy play, sleepless nights,
and sunbathing by the ocean. Love, hatred, envy, self-assurance, and fear could be just
down aisle 3 ready to be bought when needed. How I wish I could pull ingredients like
these off shelves in a store.
I'm meant to be writing at this moment. What I mean is, I'm meant to be writing
something else at this moment. The document I'm meant to be writing is, of course,
open in another program on my computer and is patiently awaiting my attention. Yet
here I am plonking down senseless sentiments in this paragraph because it's easier to
do than to work on anything particularly meaningful. I am grateful for the distraction.
He wandered down the stairs and into the basement. The damp, musty smell of unuse
hung in the air. A single, small window let in a glimmer of light, but this simply made the
shadows in the basement deeper. He inhaled deeply and looked around at a mess that
had been accumulating for over 25 years. He was positive that this was the place he
wanted to live.
Sometimes it's the first moment of the day that catches you off guard. That's what
Wendy was thinking. She opened her window to see fire engines screeching down the
street. While this wasn't something completely unheard of, it also wasn't normal. It was
a sure sign of what was going to happen that day. She could feel it in her bones and it
wasn't the way she wanted the day to begin.
She wondered if the note had reached him. She scolded herself for not handing it to him
in person. She trusted her friend, but so much could happen. She waited impatiently for
word.
The boxed moved. That was a problem. Peter had packed the box three hours before
and there was nothing inside that should make it move. The question now was whether
or not Peter was going to open it up and look inside to see why it had moved. The
answer to that question was obvious. Peter dropped the package into the mailbox so he
would never have to see it again.
Wandering down the path to the pond had become a daily routine. Even when the
weather wasn't cooperating like today with the wind and rain, Jerry still took the morning
stroll down the path until he reached the pond. Although there didn't seem to be a
particular reason Jerry did this to anyone looking in from the outside, those who knew
him well knew exactly what was going on. It could all be traced back to a specific
incident that happened exactly 5 years previously.
Sometimes it's simply better to ignore the haters. That's the lesson that Tom's dad had
been trying to teach him, but Tom still couldn't let it go. He latched onto them and their
hate and couldn't let it go, but he also realized that this wasn't healthy. That's when he
came up with his devious plan.
The tree missed the days the kids used to come by and play. It still wore the tire swing
the kids had put up in its branches years ago although both the tire and the rope had
seen better days. The tree had watched all the kids in the neighborhood grow up and
 leave, and it wondered if there would ever be a time when another child played and
laughed again under its branches. That was the hope that the tree wished every day as
the swing gently swung empty in the wind.
The opened package of potato chips held the answer to the mystery. Both detectives
looked at it but failed to realize it was the key to solve the crime. They passed by it
assuming it was random trash ensuring that the case would never be solved.
Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of
the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and
crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top
depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be.
Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the
once pristine ant highway.
He couldn't move. His head throbbed and spun. He couldn't decide if it was the flu or
the drinking last night. It was probably a combination of both.
Sleep deprivation causes all sorts of challenges and problems. When one doesn’t get
enough sleep one’s mind doesn’t work clearly. Studies have shown that after staying
awake for 24 hours one’s ability to do simple math is greatly impaired. Driving tired has
been shown to be as bad as driving drunk. Moods change, depression, anxiety, and
mania can be induced by lack of sleep. As much as people try to do without enough
sleep it is a wonder more crazy things don’t happen in this world.
He watched as the young man tried to impress everyone in the room with his
intelligence. There was no doubt that he was smart. The fact that he was more
intelligent than anyone else in the room could have been easily deduced, but nobody
was really paying any attention due to the fact that it was also obvious that the young
man only cared about his intelligence.
I love the feel of wood curls flying off the lathe as I begin to shape the log in front of me.
The sound of scraping changes based on the wetness of the wood, the speed at which
the lathe is turning, and the type of cut I am making. The smell and feel of wet wood
being turned are unique. The water is sprayed out as I cut through the different layers of
wood. A log can turn into anything one's imagination can think of with the right set of
hands-on tools. I have those hands and imagination. I use all of my senses and intuition
to create a beautiful object. That is why I enjoy turning wood.
Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing
over Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have
seen it and taken it for an ordinary falling star. It seemed that it fell to earth about one
hundred miles east of him.
He walked down the steps from the train station in a bit of a hurry knowing the secrets in
the briefcase must be secured as quickly as possible. Bounding down the steps, he
heard something behind him and quickly turned in a panic. There was nobody there but
a pair of old worn-out shoes were placed neatly on the steps he had just come down.
Had he past them without seeing them? It didn't seem possible. He was about to turn
and be on his way when a deep chill filled his body.
Why do Americans have so many different types of towels? We have beach towels,
hand towels, bath towels, dish towels, camping towels, quick-dry towels, and let’s not
forget paper towels. Would 1 type of towel work for each of these things? Let’s take a
beach towel. It can be used to dry your hands and body with no difficulty. A beach towel
 could be used to dry dishes. Just think how many dishes you could dry with one beach
towel. I’ve used a beach towel with no adverse effects while camping. If you buy a thin
beach towel it can dry quickly too. I’d probably cut up a beach towel to wipe down
counters or for cleaning other items, but a full beach towel could be used too. Is having
so many types of towels an extravagant luxury that Americans enjoy or is it necessary?
I’d say it's overkill and we could cut down on the many types of towels that
manufacturers deem necessary.
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies.
Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man
and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that
such close dealing implied. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would
be Christmas...
He knew what he was supposed to do. That had been apparent from the beginning.
That was what made the choice so difficult. What he was supposed to do and what he
would do were not the same. This would have been fine if he were willing to face the
inevitable consequences, but he wasn't.
Lori lived her life through the lens of a camera. She never realized this until this very
moment as she scrolled through thousands of images on your computer. She could
remember the exact moment each photo was taken. She could remember where she
had been, what she was thinking as she tried to get the shot, the smells of the
surrounding area, and even the emotions that she felt taking the photo, yet she had
trouble remembering what she had for breakfast.
Housework could be everyone’s work, not just “women’s work”. Why do women enable
men to act oblivious to cleaning, grocery shopping, pet feeding, etc? Somehow when
men live alone they figure out how to do all of those things all on their own. My friend’s
husband claimed he didn’t know that sheets should be washed more than once a
season. He said he didn’t know one had to clean toilets. He assumed that since you
flush toilets they clean themselves. She tried to get him to help but he did an awful job
so she let him off the hook. Wouldn’t it be better if she spent the time and energy to get
him to do it right instead of letting him claim he is “just bad at it”. My sons were raised to
clean toilets and change their own sheets. Hopefully, in their future homes, the
housework will be equally divided.
It was going to rain. The weather forecast didn't say that, but the steel plate in his hip
did. He had learned over the years to trust his hip over the weatherman. It was going to
rain, so he better get outside and prepare.
Brenda never wanted to be famous. While most of her friends dreamed about being
famous, she could see the negative aspects that those who wanted to be famous
seemed to ignore. The fact that you could never do anything in public without being
mobbed and the complete lack of privacy was something that she never wanted to
experience. She also had no desire to have strangers speculating about every aspect of
her life and what each thing she did was supposed to mean. Brenda was perfectly
happy with her anonymous life where she could do exactly as she wanted without
anyone else giving a damn. Thus, her overnight Internet celebrity was not something
she was thrilled about as her friends told her how lucky she was.
Balloons are pretty and come in different colors, different shapes, different sizes, and
they can even adjust sizes as needed. But don't make them too big or they might just
 pop, and then bye-bye balloon. It'll be gone and lost for the rest of mankind. They can
serve a variety of purposes, from decorating to water balloon wars. You just have to use
your head to think a little bit about what to do with them.