A great post, read all about it. ☺

I didn't have my glasses on....

how excited was i 

when i discovered 

that my local mcdonald’s 

chose to give me this special cup?!

what a statement this was

what a compliment

they must have been waiting

for just the right customer to come along

this lid was like a badge of honor

clearly written in two languages

for all the world to see

i carried it with pride

as i went to add my cream

and it was then

that i noticed 

that it had come from

a huge sleeve of coffee cup lids

 all carrying the exact same message. 

clearly written

in two languages.

“when you’re hot, you’re hot; when you’re not, you’re not.”

-flip wilson

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Pack A Lunch

Another delightful and interesting post by John Kraft-Down The Hall on Your Left.

Down the Hall on Your Left

highway-sign-jpgSOME THINGS ARE JUST BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION. A fact can be as hard and cold as last week’s biscuits, but I still can’t easily slip it into place in my brain. I’m not stupid, despite testimony to the contrary. I’m just a skeptical sort who enjoys being persuaded.

What brings this to the front right now? Lemme tell you.

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I’m Old, but Alive

A delightful post, it will make you smile.

that little voice

I never thought about being old until I was.

I knew older folks, been around them all my life, but I didn’t dwell on the idea that I would someday be old myself.

Of course, I knew I would grow old, but I never worried about it. I was too busy living each stage of my life to wonder about the next phase.

What 7-year-old thinks about what life will be like when you become 40? And most 20 year olds don’t have time to contemplate the challenges facing a 60-year-old. Even as I saw my parents age and die, I didn’t internalize how I would look, how I would act, how I would live when I reached the age that we consider ‘old’.

I remember in college I asked a friend what her goals were following graduation. Her reply bumfuzzled me.

“I want to grow old gracefully,” she said.

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Sally’s Cafe and Bookstore Author Update – D.G. Kaye, Malia Ann Haberman and Dariel Raye.

Always the very best from Sally. Many thanks. Hugs.

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

Welcome to Friday’s Cafe and Bookstore update and the first featured author is D.G. Kaye with another great review for her travel book, Have Bags, Will Travel. This one is from Terri Webster Schrandt.

About the book

D.G. Kaye is back, and as she reflects on some of her more memorable vacations and travel snags, she finds herself constantly struggling to keep one step ahead of the ever-changing guidelines of the airlines–with her overweight luggage in tow. Her stories alert us to some of the pitfalls of being an obsessive shopper, especially when it comes time for D.G. to bring her treasures home, and remind us of the simpler days when traveling was a breeze.

In her quest to keep from tipping the scales, D.G. strives to devise new tricks to fit everything in her suitcases on each trip. Why is she consistently a target for Canada customs on…

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Home Nursing

Aunt Beulah

Not my mother Not my mother

When sick, Mom maintained a stoic silence and went to bed, telling my siblings and me to move our squabbles beyond her hearing; so we dutifully went outside when thumping one another became unavoidable.

She expected the same bed rest and silence from us when we complained of swollen glands, stomachaches, or ingrown toenails, “Go to bed. You’ll feel better after a nap.” Her job description didn’t leave time for entertaining us or clucking over our earaches and bee stings.

One day Mom heard howls coming from the yard where Barbara had taught Blaine and JL an exciting new game in which she threw rocks and they dodged them. When Mom went outside to investigate and discovered the crooked, bloody mess that used to be Blaine’s nose, she pinched it into shape, staunched the bleeding, applied tape and told him to go take a nap. She…

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Patricia K Salamone

Just now ·

I would appreciate if you go to You Tube and leave a comment there
and click the like and share if possible. Thank you all so much. xo


I am so honored that my poem was chosen for this video.

A Realistic Poetry International Featured Poet ANGEL DEAR By: Patricia Salamone
YOUTUBE.COM Please do watch this video and all comments are welcome. I am thrilled at the beautiful job that was done.

Where is my Guardian Angel? – a poem

Robbie's inspiration

20141113_191031Where is my Guardian Angel?

I need her right now;

I feel like I’m not coping;

I want her to show me how.


I don’t need butterfly kisses;

For me, no gossamer wings;

Just some kind words of wisdom;

That a semblance of sanity brings.


I don’t need a joyous chorus;

For me, no shimmering, golden light;

Just some sound words of advice;

To help me get things right.


I don’t need finery made from silk;

For me, no tresses flowing and long;

Just some worthwhile words of help;

To keep me bold and strong.


Where is my Guardian Angel?

I want her right away;

To help me make tough choices;

I want her with me to stay.

by Robbie Cheadle

Follow Robbie Cheadle at:



Facebook: @SirChocolateBooks

Twitter: @bakeandwrite

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REVIEW/CUCINA :Cosa bolle in pentola? Collaborazione con Pastificio Morena

Another delicious recipe from Mamma Ant. ☺

Il blog di Mamma Formica alias Mariposa8024

Oggi propongo un altro piatto che ha come ingrediente principale la pasta fresca Morena.

Ravioli ripieni di carciofo con burro pancetta e salvia.

Rosolare la pancetta nel burro con la salvia finché non diventa croccante. Nel frattempo in una capiente pentola bollire i ravioli. Non appena pronti (li ho scolati appena galleggiavano) li ho fatti saltare nella padella con il condimento, aggiungendo una spolverata di grana grattugiato…

Ecco il risultato

Vi ricordo il loro

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I Dreamed A Dream

A wonderful enchanting story.

soulgifts - Telling Tales

i dreamed a dream, old man with pipe

He sat in a rocking chair, the old man. Filling his meerschaum pipe slowly  with surgical precision required his full attention. When he was finished the pipe would perch at  the side of his mouth. It was never, ever lit. The comfort of the ritual, the smell of the baccy, and the feel of it in his mouth was all he wanted.  One Eye, his old cat lay curled on his lap purring contentedly. The fire, crackling logs and leaping flames, cast a shadow play on the walls of the old log cabin that was his home by the lake. There was no need for any other light. The backdrop of the night sky peeking in through the lone window whispered of mysteries not seen by the naked eye.

Outside, the velvety blackness was broken only by the twinkling of a million stars like brilliant diamonds  scattered by a careless hand…

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