100 Words on Standard February 3, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, Standard
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Chocolate chip cookies vary from ingredients, oven, altitude, and ratio of chocolate pieces to cookie dough. The standard proportion is two cups. My mom taught me to make cookies when I was still too short to reach the counter. But she’d plop me on the counter and let me mix. But she left me alone with a five pound bag of chips. Free express my culinary creativity, I dumped the bag into bowl. Chips covered the floor. The batter did not even have enough dough to hold the chocolate together.
An amazing concoction of chocolate deliciousness, this is my standard recipe.
100 Words on Fresh February 2, 2008
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The plates sit crusty, caked together. The dried macaroni and barbeque sauce from a week of diners melds together and glues the ceramic dishes into one multicolored array. The loose silverware clinks merrily on the hard surface, unaware of the filth they swim in. One spoon is less fortunate. It lies in a congealed mash of ketchup and mashed potatoes; I think permanently part of the Chinese pattern. The stale smell stacks up and reminds of the many meals eaten in this kitchen. Fresh laundry battles to overpower the stale smell that permeates the walls. Just how strong is Febreeze?
100 Words on Airplanes February 1, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, Airplanes
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An hour late, we arrive. A mile away, the next
gate stands. I plow through the aisle and
people jump into the laps of flight attendants.
O’Hare is an enormous ‘H’ and I am at the bottom left foot, my
plane at the upper right. In a dance of airport chaos, I navigate
the moving walkway through a tunnel of psychedelic neon
lights more fit for a rave. I sprint up 147
steps to avoid the escalator and run pell-mell
to the giant grey door she swings forward. WAIT!
I stick to my seat as we rumble down the runway.
100 words on Punctuality January 31, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, punctuality
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Chilean time runs forty minutes slower than the quickest snail in New York:
Never leave on time or you will wait; alone and outside.
Remember to bring quinientos pesos so you can get home quickly in a taxi.
Do not push or shove on crowded streets.
Revel in the ten shoe stores you pass. Stare at each one. Someday the shoes might be different.
Stop to buy an empanada. Do you want cheese or beef?
Run into three friends. Impede foot traffic while you greet.
Stop in a pharmacy.
Find friends and kiss each on the cheek. No hard feelings.
100 Words on Squash January 30, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, squash
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It grows in the garden under the shade of its own leaves. Like a balloon squeezed tight at one end, I am afraid its squishy innards might explode over its dirt-lined home. Its casing is a hard diluted butter-yellow, but I cannot smell it. A fuzzy green stem arches off its top nod and snakes through the web of vines. Curly cues twizzle into the air. The soft bristles are painful and lodge in my fingers when I stroke the vine. The dirt and leaves, wet from rain, open their pores up to my nose and the garden comes alive.
People watching January 29, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in Uncategorized.Tags: people watching
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At the library today I ordered a hot chocolate. Nothing special, but I spent all morning looking forward to my treat. The lady who made it was distracted. She seemed sad and she tried several times to get a conversation going. But I was also distracted and only vaguely participated. This has bugged me all day because I wonder how many people I come across and just look through; not because of who they are, but because I am so caught up in my own personal musings…I guess this was just another one of those too.
100 Words on Lighthouse January 29, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, lighthouse
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We drove along the coastline, tracing California’s plummeting cliff line. The lighthouse shadowed us in the breezy shanty house. The sea blew through the house and mist splashed the air with salt. Sticky in the morning. Sticky at dusk. My arms squelched, skin pealing off of skin, when I wiped crusty wisps of hair from the corner of my mouth. Seagulls flocked below the tower’s guiding light, too high for even their timid wings. But I climbed the steep cinderblock stairs to the sailor’s lookout. The tiny peninsula jutted out all alone and fog wrapped around to conceal my bedroom.
You were: January 28, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in Uncategorized.Tags: Inclass
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Inclass exercise:
You were the one who was drunk on sleep,
who danced with a fire in your feet,
who declared you passion atop the glitter flecked table top.
100 words on Clocks January 28, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, clocks
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Summertime leaves its marks through sunburns, blond streaks, excess freckles, and tan lines. Some lines are like battle scars marking who you were before the summer and what you turned into. Others date your age with a vindictive truth that only several months of cloudy days can obscure. Time stops in the sweltering heat but my watch keeps ticking. It reminds me to do too many things that my lazy limbs refuse. A white band slithers around my wrist like a snake with a freshly eaten mouse inside. I slip my watch off and hide it inside my wool socks.
100 Words on Stretching January 27, 2008
Posted by onenutcake in 100 Words.Tags: 100 Words, Stretching
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I sit on the black tile of the gym floor. My shirt plastered to my back. The open window does nothing to relive the hotness of a Chilean summer. My toes elude my grasping fingertips and my inflexibility frustrates my exhausted body. My foot tingles and responds to something my ears do not hear. A smile pulls its way across my face and it strikes me on the floor next to the bench press and stretching mats. I am in Chile. The reggeaton and salsa beats pump in confliction. Their interweaving lightens my body and teeth show through my lips.
In a tiny nutty shell 