callmetj's InkSpot
Kibbles and Bits
This is a place for me to write entries for contests and challenges, as well as general items of nonsensical contents. Although most of these items are short and condensed, they may one day become something more.
And the Jackie Gleason Show. I was pretty young, but my dad always watched it. And the Flintstones, Woody Woodpecker, and Yogi Bear. 
#1106489
| Today I cringed as she uttered those six dreaded words. It was a nice day today, nicer than predicted by the weather person in Grand Forks. I was expecting frigid temperatures and made plans to work on my office. I started this project a few days ago, or maybe it was a week ago, I don't remember. But, after a strong start, I peteredout. This was partly because of a lot going on. I had other tasks to complete after my strong start and before driving to our oldests for a visit. The day after that visit, we had company coming to our home. After driving down to our boy's and then home late that night, we were up early to prepare for our company that stayed late into the evening. Monday, therefore, was a dedicated day of rest and recuperation. On Tuesday, we decided to do some shopping before the arctic temps and snow arrived. Today, I decided I needed to get back to work on my office. I contemplated why I was having little motivation to complete this job. I wanted to have my office organized and cleaned up for a place to write, which should be motivation enough. Instead of digging in, I found myself contemplating this lack of motivation, and then I had an epiphany! I wasn't motivated because I didn't feel comfortable in my office; it just wasn't right. I didn't just need to organize and clean it up; I needed to rearrange my office. I thought a bit about where I wanted my desk, and how to arrange the rest of the furniture to work with my idea. Since my office is small, I needed to plan carefully. I also needed to get a tape measure to make sure everything would fit where I wanted it. I was just heading back to my office when she stopped me and spoke the six dreaded words I mentioned earlier, "I want to rearrange the livingroom." "What are your thoughts on rearranging?" I asked my wife. She smiled and proceeded to tell me how she wanted to move our recliners, the couch, and the loveseat. She was excited, and I knew there was little I could do. But I had to try to point out how moving the furniture as she wanted wouldn't work out very well. She thought for a few minutes and agreed. I thought the rearrangement of the living room had ended as quickly as it started. I was wrong. She quickly recovered and pointed out new homes for our livingroom furniture. This time, I couldn't think of any reason why her plans wouldn't work. The rest of the afternoon was spent moving furniture here and there. After the livingroom was put back together, I was able to move my office furniture around with her help. I'm happy with the arrangement of both rooms. The livingroom is completed, but my office is a disaster. The furniture was moved, but in the process, everything got dumped on my desk. I should be in there putting things away, arranging them how I want them. But now I'm tired and am sitting in my recliner, writing this. "Tomorrow!" That's what I'm telling myself: "Tomorrow I'll clean everything off my desk and find places for it all." A proud member of "Invalid Item"  "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1102886
| It's been a while since I've posted an entry here, and it seems like a good place to write this. I was recently in a conversation about dog food over at "What the Fork?" and had mentioned that I purchase Honest Kitchen dog food for Max and Bellah. It's human-grade food made in a human-grade facility, but like the package states, it's for your dog. It's a little more expensive, but the biggest drawback is that I have to order it; few places carry it. Because it's dried, not kibbled, it tends to break up a lot in the mail. Last year, I made the comment to a friend while camping with them, "I carry a small bag of their (our dogs) food with when we hike, just in case we get lost and have to spend a night out in the wild." He asked what I brought for "people" food, and I had to admit I didn't bring much, maybe a bar or some jerky. I did add, "Since Max and Bellah's food is human grade, they'll just have to share." This, of course, got me thinking about being in a situation where we had to spend a night in the woods. We always carry extra water, a knife, some matches in a ziplock bag, some dry kindling, and a fire starter. We usually have a couple of beef sticks or chunks of jerky, maybe a health bar or two, and a ziplock baggie of Honest Kitchen for the dogs. Not a lot if one is spending the night in the north woods. But, if needed, could we eat some of the dog food? It's a nice balance of protein, nutrients, and fiber. But how bad would it taste? I read the ingredients and it sounded like it was made from a holiday dinner! I also had noted right from the first bag, this dog food smells good! So, I eventually had to try a nugget and see how it tasted. It's not kibbled; the nuggets are roasted. This means they aren't really hard and break apart as soon as they get wet. It also means they are easily chewed. The taste wasn't unpleasant and kind of reminded me of my days in the military when we had D-Rations. I did note right off, this stuff needs salt! I suppose I could grab a handful of salt packs next time we visit a fast food place and put them in the bug-out bag with the rest of our supplies. I may also want a small hiking cup/kettle to put some in, add water and salt, heat over a small fire, and have stew. That is also part of the rescue plan, you know, to make a nice-sized fire. Since we most often hike in state parks, where gathering of firewood is prohibited, and campfires are only allowed in designated areas within fire rings, I figure if I gather firewood, build a fire on the ground outside the designated areas, the park rangers will be there in a short time to make me put it out and give me a fine. Hopefully, they will also give me a ride back to my vehicle. |
#1083265
| In this area, groundhogs are called woodchucks. Why? I suppose it's because they live in the woods. Do they chuck wood? They probably do chuck small chunks of wood and branches while they are digging and looking for food, but I've never had one chuck a chunk at me. At least, I don't think so. Yesterday Phil, the groundhog, saw his shadow. Here, however Chuck the woodchuck (what else would you name him) didn't see his shadow. Hell, he didn't even come out to check. Chuck continued his winter slumber, waiting for the weather to warm the ground and awaken him. But, if Chuck had awakened and climbed from his comfy burrow would he have predicted how long our winter would last? If he saw his shadow and scurried back to his burrow, it would mean six more weeks of winter. But if Chuck didn't see his shadow (which is very likely since he's in the woods and there's shadow everywhere) and went about the day doing woodchuck stuff, we would have an early spring. How early? Probably just a short six weeks. Yes, either six more weeks of winter, or only six weeks until spring! Actually, it's six and a half weeks, or forty-six days until spring arrives, spring equinox. No matter which way you look at it, six (and a half) weeks. It matters only on how you look at it. Is the glass half full or half empty? Woodchucks really don't care. As for me, I'm looking for an early (six and a half weeks) spring. A proud member of "Invalid Item" "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1082572
| I like blue, from light, baby blue, to dark navy blue; if I had to pick a favorite color, blue would be it. I also enjoy wearing blue, but not all the time, I enjoy a variety of colors. The same holds true for what other's wear. Today I saw a person with the most blue possible; literally from head to toe. We are having an extreme cold snap right now with windchill effects of about -55oF. The best idea is to stay inside, but that's not always possible. Today we, my wife and I, needed to drive to the store and pick up a few items. We dressed for the extreme cold, even though the car has a great heater. Why, because when it's this cold out, car problems are likely and frostbite can occur on exposed skin in as little as five minutes. As I waited in the car for my wife to get the items we needed, I saw a person walking across the parking lot towards the door who was apparently unaware of this. The person had on a blue, short sleeve T-shirt, blue shorts like we used to wear in phys-ed, and flip-flops. I am not joking, this is how the person was dressed, no more, no less. The parking lot is covered in hard-packed snow and ice, so the person couldn't run, but just kind of shuffle-slid across the slippery surface as quickly as possible. All exposed skin was blue and beginning to mottle, the first signs of frostbite! Soon they had vanished into the store. As I waited for my wife, I wondered why anyone would venture outside without warmer clothing on. I had not noticed them driving, and there were parking areas closer to the entrance. I think they came from the motel across the street, likely in a bit of a hurry by the way they were dressed; or more accurately, by the way they had not dressed. I doubt the person (I could not tell gender or guess at the age other than young adult) realized they were getting frostbite, but they'll figure it out soon enough. That's the thing with frostbite, it isn't painful until after you warm up. Yes, I've suffered from frostbite in my past, but not from anything as stupid as going out in sub-zero weather half naked. No, stupidity took me out on a frozen lake, but not frozen enough to support my weight. But that was years ago and I've learned since then—I suppose this over-grown smurf will too. A proud member of "Invalid Item" "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1082391
| This morning I had a bit of an appetite so I decided to make myself a bowl of oatmeal. While I was eating, my new muse, Leora, came in and asked, "What are you eating?" "Oatmeal." "You know that's actually porridge." "Yes, I know that. But being American, I usually refer to it as oatmeal." Leora nodded, then informed me that the Quakers discovered oats when they moved from California to Pennsylvania. I took another spoonful of my boiled oats and told her I wasn't aware that the Quakers ever lived in California. She sat down and told me this story: A band of Vikings had gotten lost in Baffin Bay one hot summer and made a wrong turn as they tried to find their way back to Newfoundland. They inadvertently crossed over north America (it was a hot summer, so the ice had melted) and reached the Pacific. But, by this time, winter was setting in and they were desperately trying to get further south before getting locked into the now returning ice. They eventually made it to northern California, where it's always nice and landed their longboats. It didn't take them long to discover they had found a new land (not Newfoundland) that was sparsely populated by mountain men and some prospectors waiting for gold to be discovered. They also discovered, to their dismay, the ground would shake and tremble. Not liking these quakes all the time, they stocked up their longboats and headed down to the Panama Canal, crossed over, and then headed north hoping to find their way back to Newfoundland. But as they traveled up the east coast they started to run out of food and the beer barrels had gone dry. They went ashore looking for supplies, which took them quite some time. But eventually they had enough food and had brewed up some beer to last them for the rest of the journey. When they returned to the coast, however, they discovered some pilgrims had landed and took their longboats apart for lumber to build a settlement! The pilgrims were friendly enough and asked these vikings where they come from. The Vikings told the tale of their journey from Newfoundland to Foundnewland, which the mountain men called California, and how they had left because of the frequent quakes there. Of course, this resulted in the pilgrims calling them "Quakers". The pilgrims also found a liking for the grain these Quakers had processed for food on their boats, and soon they were trading. The "Quakers" soon realized that these rolled oats could be a gold mine, so instead of building more boats and returning to Newfoundland, they went back to Pennsylvania to grow and roll more oats, which they traded with the pilgrims, who in turn traded them with the French fur traders for pelts. Eventually oats made it all the way back to Europe. "The rest" she said, "is history." I smiled at Leora and asked, "When did this all took place?" "Oh, I'm not sure the exact dates, but it was long ago, back in the early nineteen hundreds." Still smiling, I told her, "You're a terrific storyteller, but I think your history's a bit off." "Oh yeah, well if you don't believe me, go look it up on Google!" With that she stormed off and left me with a bowl of cold oatmeal. I didn't look it up, but earthquakes—Quakers? Maybe she's on to something... "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
.#1082320
| Sometimes a memory floats across my mind like a leaf floating on an autumn breeze. More often than not, I watch it float by and then it's gone. Other times I catch hold of it and it carries me back through the years to times past. Today while looking out at the sunshine glimmering off the white, new snow, I contemplated ideas to write about in my blog, and then, whilst lost in my thoughts a leaf of memory from days long past floated across my minds eye and I gently grasp hold of it. I was transported across time and miles to my Grandma's house, sitting in the living room with my family, watching the Ed Sullivan Show on her big Zenith Color TV. Most of the show had been music my grandparents and parents enjoyed and my siblings and I sat, rather bored and impatient, but still and considerate, for the show to end. Then, this: "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1064403
| American presidents have come in all sizes from Abe Lincoln at six foot, four inches to Jim Madison at five foot, four inches. Likewise, their wights also span a great distance with Bill Taft tipping the scales at a whopping three hundred and forty pounds and of course Jim Madison (again) barely moving the scale at a measly one hundred pounds. Big Bill Taft stood five foot, five inches, only one inch taller than Lil' Jim Madison! If they could have stood side by side, what a sight that would have been! President Taft was nicknamed: "Big Bill" and "Big Chief", which are both very fitting. I wonder, if he ever told anyone in congress who disagreed to, "Get in my belly!" He served four years and was likely not elected for second term mainly because they couldn't afford to feed him for another four years and for fear that if he did get reelected, they may not be able to get him back out without installing a garage door. President Madison was nicknamed "Father of the Constitution", which is a bit ironic since he was the size of a mid-teen child. I wonder if anyone ever asked, "What's that kid doing in here?" Only to discover he was the Commander in Chief! Madison served two terms but it's possible he may have hid under some furniture so they couldn't remove him. To wrap this up, I would like to add that it's good that Taft and Madison were not in the capital at the same time or it's likely they would have been nicknamed, "Fat Bastard and Mini Me"... "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1063931
| Word count: 286 One day, as I sat along the banks of a river eating an ice cream cone and contemplating a story in the Newsfeed by Adherennium   , I saw a line of six TRIDs (Tiny, Rare, Industrious, Ducks) advancing towards the bridge. As I continued to contemplate and watch, the six TRIDs began crossing the bridge only to have a mean, ugly, and foul smelling troll come out from under the bridge. He, she, it, (I’m not sure, it’s hard to tell with trolls) climbed the bank and ran onto the bridge and proceeded to kick the TRIDs off the bridge and into the water. After the last TRID was booted off the bridge, the troll returned to it’s dwelling under the bridge.The TRIDs swam back to their side of the river, climbed the bank, and again approached the bridge and begin crossing. The troll instantly climbed the bank, ran onto the bridge and started kicking the poor TRIDs off again. This sequence of events continued a few more times, until the troll had kicked the crap out of the TRIDs (the bridge was literally covered in TRID s***! Having enough of this, tired, and frustrated, the s***less TRIDs vanished back the way they had come. Curious, I walked over te the bridge and stepped onto it, expecting the nasty troll to run out and kick me. I was half right, the troll did run up the bank and onto the bridge, but stopped when it saw me. “You’re not a TRID, go ahead and cross.” Confused, I asked, “But why then do you kick the TRIDs?” The troll shook it’s hideous head and replied, “I thought everyone knew, kicks are for TRIDs!” "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1063513
Written for February - SHORT MONTH, SHORT BLOGS Word Count 102 Toby had a motorbike, wherever I went I had to hike. I asked him for a ride one day, he said yes, but I'd have to pay. I asked him how much the fee would be, he answered back, "I don't know, we'll have to see." I climbed on the back and we motored away; the wrong direction I have to say. He stopped ten miles away. "Five bucks you have to pay." I explained, "You went the wrong way! Take me back or I won't pay." "Fine," he said, "get off my bike," Now I have ten more miles to hike! "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
#1059923
| Written for "Invalid Item" , prompt: Alascattalo Day. Today is Nov. 21, Alascattalo Day; yes this entry is written on time! But, what is an Alascattalo you may ask, I know I did. But after a brief search I found the answer. The Alascattalo is the Alaskan mascot, a cross between a moose and a walrus. There is a funny annual celebration and I can only imagine the fun Alaskans enjoy during the celebration. But, is there such a cross of animals? Is there a horny walrus on the icy rocks, or perhaps a chubby moose with tusks is wondering the Yukon. We may never know; Sasquatch knows! In reading about the Alascattalo, I was reminded of another strange animal, the Jackalope. I did a short search and did not find any Jackalope Day, but feel there should be one in celebration of this bizarre creature as well. For those who believe, the Jackalope is said to be an antlered species of rabbit, sometimes rumored to be extinct. One of the rarest animals in the world, it is a cross between a now extinct pygmy-deer and a species of killer-rabbit. However, occasional sightings of this rare creature continue to occur, with small pockets of Jackalope populations persisting in the American West. The antlered species of rabbit are brownish in color, weight between three and five pounds, and move with lightning speeds of up to 90 miles per hour. They are said to be vicious when attacked and use their antlers to fight, thus they are sometimes called the “warrior rabbit.” The Jackalope was first encountered by John Colter, one of the first white men to enter what would one day be the State of Wyoming. They also inhabit other western states, including western South Dakota. There are rumors but after having lived in the Rapid City area and spending time in the Black Hills and surrounding areas, I discovered there's more to it than just rumors. I have seen Jackalopes on a couple of occasions (or, perhaps they were just jackrabbits sitting in front of some brush). It was while consuming large amounts of beer in the hot sun that I seen these oddities of nature. I assume they were waiting for me to drop a bottle so they could move in and enjoy a cold brew themselves. I would have hiked over to investigate further, making sure it was in fact a Jackalope I was looking at and not a jackrabbit sitting in front of some brush, but with them moving at lightning speed and being vicious, I felt it better to keep my distance. They are fast, though. I watched the pair watching me, but when I blinked, they were gone. One day I hope to travel to Alaska. I have always longed to visit but now I also want to find a quiet spot out in the countryside to drink some beer and watch for the elusive Alascattalo. I am also always on the lookout for another creature that resides right here in northern Minnesota, a cross between a black bear and a whitetail deer. The offspring are called, according to their colors, either light or dark Beers. A proud member of "Invalid Item" "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
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TJ says, "keep on keeping on!" has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
About The Author
My writing doesn't follow any set genre, it's interdependent of my mood and all that's taking place in life. I'm still finding myself, what I write constitutes the markers along the path of that journey. With time, many things will manifest in my work and perhaps I will pursue one or two genres. For now, it's not, "What type of writing is my passion?"
"Writing is my passion."
