Fun Story

I posted a fun little story on my LinkedIn account and wanted to share it here. It’s just a little writing exercise that is fun, for me. I hope fun for you too. Can you guess who the “Bob” character is before the end? I have heard a few different ideas, some got it right, but I love to hear what impression people thought “Bob” was.

Eviction Notice

Mary is fed up with Bob, she knows something must be done. Bob’s constantly knocking over her pictures, erases the answer machine messages before she can listen to them. Bob turns the T.V. on or off whenever he feels like it. He’s always playing practical jokes and hiding things around the house. Marry searches for her slippers, finding one on top the refrigerator and the other under the couch.

“Bob has got to go.” she exclaims.

Mary calls her neighbour Dianna; she has a way with special people. Dianna can’t get Bob to leave. Mary thought if she makes the house smell bad he would leave. So, Mary burns all kinds of incense, candles and grasses and still he will not leave. She doesn’t want to call those guys in the lab coats, but she has no choice. It must be done.

Doorbell rings, Mary opens the door. There stood three very tall, muscular men. One man had more tattoos than she has ever seen. Mary felt a knot in her stomach, am I doing the right thing? She thought.

“Hello, you called us to help with Bob? My name is Jake.” The man said.

“Thank you for coming, I have to admit I am a little nervous. I have never done this before, he’ll be OK, right?” Mary said.

“No worries ma’am, we will take care of everything. You can even go out for coffee, this shouldn’t take long.” Said Jake.

Mary left for coffee and was back in 45 minutes. Not knowing what she will find when she comes home. She slowly enters the apartment, it’s quiet, no one’s there. She waits and listened for Bob. Nothing. She puts her T.V. on, it stays on, so she turns it off. She put her slippers beside her bed and propped up her pictures on the mantle. The next morning, the slippers are still there, the pictures are still safely on the mantle, and the T.V. is still off. Mary takes a deep slow breath and sinks into the couch as she thinks to herself, finally, Bob the ghost is gone.

 

Did you guess who Bob was? Did you think he was a mischievous cat? Or maybe a really bad roommate?

 

 

 

 

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Can’t I just get a pet instead?

Well our lives have not improved much since my “Hell Month” post I am sorry to share. However, I still want to continue writing and creating stories that hopefully inspire, so here is one I made up. Of course this did not really happen to me as I have no home. This did happen in my mind. I dreamed I lived in a two-story home in the good part of the city, that I’ve had more children, a great job and a busy life. I tried to imagine what it would be like to go on a date at my age. Sometimes I think we write from what we know and some of this is truth but not all. The truth is I have not been on a date in many, many years for the reasons in the story, so what would my date be like? This is what I came up with, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

 

Can’t I just get a pet?

Where did all the time go? Once I was a mother and wife. After the separation, I focused on raising children and work. Now the kids are almost out of the house and about to take on their own lives.  My house is getting more lonely and quiet. Now in my midlife I’m dating again? A blind date even, how nerve-racking is that? I didn’t even get to pick if I wanted to go on a date with this guy. I know nothing about him, what he looks like, where he works or even if he works.

I call my daughter on her cell. “Can’t I just get a cat or dog? I mean when the grandchildren come along the house will be alive again right?” I said.

My daughter won’t tell me anything so we would have something to talk about at dinner.

“This will take all of two seconds. Where do you work? I’ll ask. After getting released from jail and the doctor put me on some new trial drugs to keep my homicidal tendencies at bay, I decided to travel the world and really find myself. He’ll answer. There, now there is nothing left to talk about.” I said.

My daughter laughs at me and hangs up. She won’t tell me anything, I could use a bit of some information, my mind is running wild.

Looking into my closet I ask myself, what do you wear when you are about to go on a date with an experimentally doped up, homicidal maniac, freshly released from prison? With that in mind I’m reminded of my old girl scout motto, “Be Prepared”. I’ll wear a switch blade, pepper spray, panic siren, thigh pistol, mace, knock out gas, key lock iron chastity belt, and four armed guards. Yes, that should about cover it. Oh, don’t forget my cell phone.

You must know that I have not gone shopping for anything fashionable in at last 20 years. Yes, that is sad,but with work and trying to be the best mom ever I lost touch with myself. That is the reason my daughter is putting me on this date. I tear through my closet and dresser, getting more discouraged as I try on the last few items I own. Glancing around my room, I see that my grandmother’s closet has exploded, I have nothing to wear on a date. In despair, I sit on the side of my bed and cry, I can’t do this.

My daughter comes home to help me get ready. She finds me in my destroyed room, in all my nakedness, sobbing. I’m in misery and she walks in with this cheery, bright-eyed attitude, it makes me sick. I mean really, can’t she see I’m crying here?

“Come on mom, lets take another look at these clothes and get you ready for a great night out.” She said.

Oh, great, she is dressing me. Have I come the age where my children are dressing me? Is it time for me to enter the retirement home? In my miserable grumbling, I look in the mirror and admire her handy work.

“Dam girl, you should do this for a career. How’d you do this? I mean, wow.” I said

I look good, I feel good and I have the worlds greatest daughter. Tonight, is already fantastic. I don’t need to go on a date, this night is so good we should do a girl’s night. But she wouldn’t let me change the agenda, apparently, it’s prophesied that I’m going on this date.

Unable to argue with a prophesy I finish my make up and hear the door bell ring. I feel a lump in my throat, my stomach has twisted, I’m sweating and I think I’m going to throw up. My daughter bounces down the stairs and lets him in. I try to listen from the top of the stairs but she is whispering that little brat, she’s doing this so I can’t hear a thing and curiosity will get the best of me. I take a few deep breaths and head downstairs.

All I can think of as I walk down the steps is, do I have knock out gas? We are now standing in front of the door and he is good-looking, doesn’t look doped up or homicidal at all. Not that I would know what doped up homicidal maniac looks like. I figure I can leave the body guards at home.

“Hi, I’m Mike, your daughter has told me so much about you. You look very pretty.” He said

Well that is not a disadvantage at all, he knows a lot about me and I just found out his name.

“Hi, and thank you. You look good as well. Shall we go?” I said. Gee that didn’t sound like a robot at all. I feel like such an idiot.

I have decided that sharing the vehicle ride to the restaurant is just not a good idea. I think that the awkward silence should’ve been at the dinner table, so we could shove some food in our mouths.

While at the restaurant things start to relax a bit, perhaps it’s the bread sticks? We start to talk and find a few things in common. We are both parents, both separated and both have not been on a date in years. The night is going so well so he asks if he can take me dancing. I love dancing, not that bar scene type, I’m talking the tango, or even a country square dance is great too. He said he knows just the place.

We danced the whole night, there was a beautiful woman asked him to dance with her, he told her he was on a date with me and declined the invite. Wow, what a guy. He wanted to dance only with me, talk about make a woman feel like she is on fire.

Like all good things, must come to an end. Both of us not knowing what to do on the first date we kept it casual and just said good night with a kiss on the cheek. We are going out again. I decided blind dates aren’t so bad.  I entered my house to find my daughter standing at the door waiting for me.

“You’re home late.” She said

“yup” I said

She started jumping around screaming and yelling, “moms got a boyfriend, moms got a boyfriend”. It felt really good to feel like I was 16 again. Who ever said dating later in life is unnecessary is a loser. I strongly any one of you singles out there to get out and go on a date. It brings you to life again, maybe even a few years younger.  Maybe if you find the right match, it could be something more.

 

Tina Curtis

 

Writing assignment

Well folks! For the last month I have attended way too many writing classes, one for beginners, one for essentials in writing and one for how to write to make some cash, plus I am taking 8 other courses. WAY too many at one time, talk about nuts around here, and my computer crashes two days ago and took me two days to get it up and going again! That is not what you are here for so let’s get on with the writing assignment, I am to write a creative piece with all the lessons I am learning in beginners writing class, I absolutely love me teacher Ann Linquist. Here I will let you in on the very first intro to the story that I am writing for this assignment. I have about two short stories done on this one so far, and I think I am going to take into the series direction, so I may post them on kindle or something like that.

 

 ? No title ?

             You know those stories with a happy ending and everything works out in the end? Ya, this isn’t one of those! This is like a bad black and white movie, you know the ones where the beautiful vivacious woman uses the clever and charming private investigator, he knows what she is doing but he loves the excitement. My story begins with a beautiful receptionist, or so she thinks she’s a receptionist, typing at her desk late at night. I don’t know what she could be typing, maybe her resume, we haven’t had work in months.

“Will that be all Dicky? I need to pick up bobby from the sitters soon.” My receptionist Wanda asks.

“Sure you can go, I’m gonna hang out here for a while and finish my last Cuban. Lock up on your way out will ya?”

“Sure thing Dicky, hey you have a good night sweetie? Tomorrow will be better, I just know you will get something tomorrow. OK then, good night.”

I hear her keys jingle as she locks the door and her heels tapping on the hardwood as she fades into the distance, again you are alone, and all you hear is the echoes from the street. My office is small but it’s comfortable, and cheap. To be honest I have slept on my office couch for the last two months. I like to sit in my office and smoke my cigar, and I like the low light of my desk lamp as it casts shadows around the room to entertain my imagination on these lonely nights. Just then a sound catches my full attention, a slow creek, possibly 210 Lbs, flat leather shoes, a hole in the left bottom soul. But how did he get in? I heard Wanda lock the front door, I reach under my desk and grasp my two faithful and ever reliable friends Smith and Wesson.

Closer… and closer he approaches, now at the door he stops. He seems to linger there a few seconds, contemplating. An envelope slid under the door and then he scurries away. I get up to examine the envelope, I don’t bother opening the door he’s already gone. 10 years as a P.I. has taught me to not kill the messenger. I glance at the contents and pull out the folded paper, just then something falls onto the floor. I reach down and pick up a gold necklace with a water droplet shape pendant and a blue gem in the centre. After examining the necklace I return to my desk to read the contents. The letter read: Hard Water Pier, tonight at 10:30

 

Well I hope my writing is getting better and hope you enjoyed the teaser of this new story. Have a great day.

 

 

 

This year I wanted to do something special for mom, she is in her 80’s and I wanted to maybe make her feel young, to remember some of the great days of her life. So how could I do this? I stumbled upon Finnabair Art,  she does multimedia style art and it inspired me to make mom’s birthday gift. I also wanted to make it a little more special, more for mom directly and no one else so I made it kind of like finding Waldo with hiding special items in it that she has to hunt for. Also a great mental exercise for seniors to keep the mind active while triggering memories.

This picture is a photo of my mom I am told between the ages of 16 to 18, no one seems to remember. The textures are to create depth and touchable response that helps with mental focus and stimulation of seniors mental health. My mother is miles away from me but I hope she felt like I was right there with her through the personality splashing out from this art project for her.

Mom birthday gift
Mom birthday gift

Here is the Letter I wrote her that goes along with this multimedia picture.

Happy Birthday Mother

Good and wonderful birthday wishes to you on this special day. Today we celebrate your life and here is my gift to you, a multimedia art that I designed so when you read this letter with it, it is in hopes that you will feel me there with you and that you can interact with this unique gift. Firstly as you read this the words that are in a different colour are the ones that you will need to find in the art. (Kind of like finding Waldo game) Let us begin!

I remember those blue eyes that would watch over me, to keep me safe. I loved the days that you, me, and dad would pick pine cones all summer, so we would have money. How we would listen to the waves in our living room with a shell. Strengthening our imagination.

You would teach me to crochet (knit), and sew, so I would never be without. And the large tin of buttons I would play in. You and father would spend hours gardening, teaching me how to grow food, so we would be healthy. Then at harvest we would pick fruits and can food all week-long for the long cold winters.  You would teach me how to care and love the animals from thechickens to the cat, to all creatures big and small.  We would feed the blue birds on the landing every summer. I remember you chasing the cow away from your tomato plants, and how the cowwould love it when you would chase him, so much love with all our home, you and dad gave the gift of love, like a flower made of hearts it bloomed all year-long, so precious like a diamond heart.The time our family would take to read the scriptures, and sit together as a family and talk, play games on family night every week. Every summer we would wash our clothes in the old wringer washer and hang them with clothes pin on a line to dry in the sun. When I got stung by bees you would put an onion on the stinger to get it out and make it feel all better. You would teach me about the butterfly, the ladybug, the bees the birds and the flowers, all had a job in the circle of nature. You even taught me proper etiquette, manners matter and how to use my knife, spoons and forksIt is because of you that I am who I ­­ today, I am thankful that you are my mother.

Love and miss you

Tina

The Laundry Mat Love

 By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you’ll become happy; if you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.
Socrates

 

 

The sun shines through the window onto her smooth soft brown hair, her skin glistens and her eye sparkle, she’s beautiful and natural she’s perfect. She doesn’t wear a lot of makeup and she doesn’t smell like a perfume factory, she is simple, subtle, and amazing!  She smiles at him softly and his heart skips a beat, she doesn’t know how beautiful she is and that makes him want to know her more.  Running a laundry mat is not easy, people can be abrasive scratchy types, dirty, and annoying like a stain on your favourite shirt. Yet she works her hardest every day with a  gentle softness and smile. He has been coming here for months but he is shy, nervous, and too awkward to ask her to coffee, she might say no so he just smiles.

“Good-bye Freshness” he says  as he is leaving.

Freshness you are so silly she thinks to herself, he doesn’t even know you exist other than that nice laundry lady! Oh but since he has been coming to your laundry mat he’s all she can think about. His gentle kind eyes, strong body and warm voice, she absolutely adores him. She doesn’t know he does his laundry there just to see her, he has an HE at home and he washes his clothes more than he needs to just to be near her. As he rides the bus home he can’t help think of her, he has to do something and soon, this is tearing his heart apart and lightening his wallet. How can I get her to know me and come to coffee or lunch with me? Two days later he walks into the laundry mat and there she is as always, like as though she is waiting for him. He tries to talk to her a few times but then stops and he leaves again.

She cries out to him, “Wait, Sir Wait!”

He turns around to see her running towards her, he smiles and as he is about to speak but she bends over and picks up his sock.

“Here, you dropped this.”

She hands him the sock and as he reaches out to grab the sock their fingers touch, neither of them move they just stand there staring into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity. A customer bumps him and he steps back, she asks his name.

“Soft Touch”

They smile at each other and he leaves. Both not sure what just happened, did anything happen? Did she feel what I felt or did I just look like an idiot in there? Did he feel that, she wonders daydreaming about him, his name is Soft, how perfect is that?

One special magical day  Soft comes to the laundry mat without his laundry he’s there for Freshness, he looks around but can’t find her then he looks back as she walks around the dryer #4. She smiles at him, he takes her by the hands.

“Freshness, will you come to coffee with me today?”

“Yes”

Then that awkward silence.

“Good, um how about noon at the café on the corner?”

“OK”

Soft leaves and they both have huge smiles on their faces, brimming from ear to ear. They have many coffees together over the months and they get married in the local church. They are great together, you know like cookies and milk, kids and laughter, or socks and sandals, wait, no not like socks and sandals that’s gross.

And they live happily ever after.

By Tina

Dialogue With Self

In my writing essentials class through Gale online (I am taking a couple of writing courses) we are to write a dialogue between the two side of ourselves that directly impact our writing. The critical side and the creative side. Here is my submission. Remember this is a beginner course. Hope you like it.Oh did I mention that I love this class and teach is awesome!

Dialogue With Self

Creative side: I feel like I am writing like Plato does in his dialogues. He must have liked this style so much since that is the only way he wrote anything.

Critical side: Wow aren’t you presumptuous! Comparing yourself to a great philosopher and teacher like Plato.

Creative side: Oh shut up, it is just a feeling, you can’t stop me from feeling only from acting so shut it!

Critical side: Just pointing out what you are looking and acting like, others are thinking the same thing. I just want to save you from hurt.

Creative side: Whatever, I am on a new journey, if you wanna join then you have to follow some rules! They are simple I feel and would be helpful and not detrimental to the success of us both. You in?

Critical side: Well I will try, you know I am who I am, but I will hear you out and do my best to be supportive to you, after all that is all I ever wanted is to support you, care for you, and keep you safe.

Creative side: Here it is, I will lay them out like Gibb’s rules.

Rule #1 – you must only comment on the writing and not my abilities.

Rule #2 – You are never to insult me again, no name calling, no calling me stupid, no insults.

Rule #3 – your comments must pertain to the improvement of the writing such as, you missed a comma, or that sentence does not seem to fit, or some type of productive criticism that will help the writing flow.Rule #4 – You must be willing to give in. If I feel that the work is good for print sort of speak, then you must concede without being a perfectionist. No one is perfect, just be the best we can in the time we have.

Rule #4 – You must be willing to give in. If I feel that the work is good for print sort of speak, then you must concede without being a perfectionist. No one is perfect, just be the best we can in the time we have.

Critical side: Those may sound like reasonable rules to you because you are all up in the clouds, but down here on the planet we live by the law of the fittest, the best succeed, and you want to be the best don’t you? You want to succeed right? So I must be the bad guy sometimes, I must push you to be better. You know how you procrastinate! If I weren’t there to give you that push you would be like a fat Lisa Simpson.Laying in a hammock in your living room, using a boat oar to beat people to bring you more food, or change the T.V. channel, because you lost the remote in one of your many enormous fat rolls. You need me to be critical.

Creative side: Hmm, are you sure you are not the creative side? That sounds quite dramatic. Those are the rules and you must abide by them. Anything else and I will simply not respond to you. You do want friends right? You do want to be heard? Then you must be cooperative.

Critical side: OK, so this is the rule that I must concede right? Well then I have some rules of my own then.

Creative side: Oh boy really? I can just imagine what that could be. Cue the marching band! Roll in the cannons! Attention!

Critical side: Who’s being dramatic now?

Creative side: Um, creative side!

Critical side: With a sigh of frustration critical side said. Just hear me out, I will lay it out in like fashion.  Rule #1 – You will listen, keep an open mind and hear me out.

Rule #1 – You will listen, keep an open mind and hear me out.

Rule #2 – You will entertain every suggestion, you don’t have to follow everyone just consider it.

Creative side: THAT’S IT? Two rules? Is there like a secret rule that is about to pounce on me, right now!

Critical side: Nope, that is all. Just the two rules that I want from you.

Creative side: YES! I accept those rules, with only two I am taking it before you change your mind. I accept! Deal?

Critical side: Deal.

Creative side: Hey this was fun, we should write another dialogue on our own. What should we write on? Oh ya she said to do a freewriting for 5 minutes of nonstop to get ideas, let’s do it!

Critical side: it was actually fun, and I learned a little about you too creative, you aren’t so bad, you are growing on me. Yes let’s give it a try and post it on our blog site.

Creative side: Awe you like me? You really like me! Do you want a hug?

Critical side: No! Seriously! You ruined it with that mushy stuff, stop it!

by Tina

 

 

Give your food a bath?

In my squirrely soap blog I do a little short story writing and poetry, it is all about soaps and crafts and I sell some at the farmers market but I decided to expand my writing and tie all the blogs together. I start all the stories or poetry with “IMAGINE” you are welcome to go to the squirrely soap blog first story to find out why I start with imagine but right now I wanted to share with more people the stories and see how it goes. So this is how it goes …

Should your food take a bath?

Ha-ha I bet that caught your attention right, giving your food a bath? What? Yes there is a reason to give your food a bath. I wrote all about this in my “Food Of Wisdom” blog and please feel free to read it. I hope it is informative. I was thinking about the article I wrote and I started to laugh at myself as I do quite regularly. I think people around me thing I am a mad person, off my rocker! But picture this if you will, a small claw foot tub with bubbles and a whole bunch of fruit and vegetable taking a bath, how cute? Or strange? But a mental image just makes me chuckle. Is there a story in this? Hum Dee Dum, I ponder and …

Imagine:

Mr. Beet waddles down the dirt path of a mammoth sized field wearing his beautiful green hat. As he reaches the end of the field he spies as far as he can spy and all that he can spy is another field.  Pears to the right and it is a mammoth sized field of vegetable, pears to the left and another mammoth vegetable field. Off yonder it looks like endless low top trees. Just then that flying noise maker passes over, he has another leak. He really needs to look at that Mr. Beet thinks to himself, every time he flies over he’s spraying this nasty tasting liquid all over us. He passes back and forth all over the fields and trees and then is gone again.  Mr. Beet turns his focus back to his surroundings and decides to push forward, I wonder what is out there? He thinks to himself. So he waddles along the dirt path and stops when he sees Mrs. Potato.

“Excuse me” Mr. Beet shyly speaks “Who may you be miss and would you happen to know where I might be?”

Mrs. Potato whips around to face Mr. Beet. She eyes him up and down, she is tall and strong, she is so bold and intimidating that Mr. Beet takes a small step back.

In a strong powerful voice she bellows “Where the heck did you come from? Haven’t seen the like of you in this field and I have traveled this field for many weeks. What the heck are you? You aint one of those weeds are ya? Whatever you’re selling we don’t want it!”

“Well miss, um farmer Jones calls me Mr. Beet so I reckon you can call me Mr. Beet also.” As he stumbles nervously over his words he continues. “I-I-I am not selling anything and well um, uh, well…”

“Spit it out kid, aint got all day ya know.”

“Oh aww, y-yes of course, well I must be a bit of an explorer, ya that’s it, I am an explorer and I am exploring this here fields and those trees over yonder.”

“An explorer hey, don’t know much about that but this here field needs piling so you best be on your way. Nice meetin ya.”

Mr. Beet bid Mrs. Potato farewell and waddled on his way just then Mrs. Potato bellows out to him, “You be careful of those gophers! They’re mean buggers and will take a bite right outta ya!” Mr. Beet nodded politely and waved good bye. The sun was hot, like sun funneled through a magnifying glass piercing down on Mr. Beet. This field seems to go on forever he thought, then he heard in the distance a familiar sound, he stops and listens. Ah yes it is that flying noise machine again, just like always it sprays this bad tasting liquid up and down the rows but this time Mr. Beet drank up all he could, he was so hot he absorbed as much as possible, not really refreshing but will keep me going on my journey he thought to himself. He started to walk again and he almost bumped into the largest gopher he had ever seen, I mean he was huge!

“You work out? What’s your name?” Mr. Beet said trying to break the ice.

In that sexy deep, rather manly voice the gopher spoke. “Folks round here call me MR. Gopher!” “Whaaat yo doing waaay over heeere? This aint chor field, you don’t belooong here.” He drawled out. “Go back where ya came from little red! Go on now, run back home!”

As the gopher leaned in towards Mr. Beet he felt frightened, so frightened he almost pooped out a little beet.

“No.” quietly Mr. Beet said.

“Did yo say somethin? I thought I heard a peep comin outta yo mouth?” The gophers stepped closer to Mr. Beet, almost stepping right on him, gopher bumped beet with his chest. “Wha’s da matter? Carrot got your tongue? You so chatty, wa-ch ya gonna do?” Mr. Gopher glared right into Mr. Beets eyes.

Every part of Mr. Beet was shaking, his beautiful green hat look like a hoola dancer on a dashboard of a car. More gophers were walking out from the potato tops and he was surrounded. The lump in his throat would not go down it just sat there getting bigger and bigger making it hard to breath. The voice in his head kept yelling at him “shut up and run, shut up and run ya fool, run now! Right now, RUN!” But Mr. Beet was an explorer and he wanted to see the fields and the low top trees. He had to be brave, maybe even stupid if he was to succeed.

“I – I – I s-s-said n-n-no Mr. G-G-Gopher.” Stuttered Mr. Beet. “Oooooh now you gone and done it!” The voice inside Mr. Beets head exclaimed, “That’s it, were dead! Dead! Dead! Dead! Ya fool you gone and killed us off, in our prime too!”

“Ha-ha!” all the gopher started to laugh, Mr. Gopher laughed so hard he was kicking on the ground, they sounded like a bunch of hyenas. Mr. Beet saw his chance, a space opened up between the gophers and he bolted. He waddled like he had never waddled before, it is not easy for a beet to run, tiny little legs and a tail is not helpful at all. Now that he bolted his beautiful green hat had a high stem that caught on ever leaf and now there was flowers on his green hat. “Oh what will become of me he thought?” These are strange greens, these are not potato tops, these are far more bushy and taller. Mr. Beet tucked in under a bunch and watched closely as he felt the thunder of the gophers running passed. Mr. Beet held his breath until he could no longer hear them.

“Ahh” Mr. Beet let out a sigh of relief.

“WHOO EEE! That was some staaaampeeeede. Ha-Ha son you see that?” he slapped Mr. Beet on the back.

“I mean you no harm, I come in peace.” Mr. Beet cautiously said.

“What, I come in peace, Ha-ha you sure do talk funny red. I spose you want help with that there flower on your top, alright come on then, kneel down I caint reach that far.”

Mr. Beet cautiously knelt down and a stem of flowers fell to the grown beside him. He felt lighter, younger, not so old and stiff like a piece of wood.

“Thank you sir, I thought I was a goner with those gophers after me, how can I ever thank you?”

“Ya just did, and don’t call me Sir my dad’s name was sir just call me Kale!”

Mr. Beet felt like he just made a friend, he was so excited to talk to someone. Since leaving home it was rather lonely and he missed his family very much. Mr. Beet told Kale all about his home and the fun things they did and all about strange grandpa Beet who had two tails growing outta him. Kale listened and walked with Mr. Beet for a long time, Mr. Beet talked and talked, he even cried a little. The strange flying noise maker sprayed and flew by and Mr. Beet did not even notice it was there he was just so happy to have made a friend that the world seemed like a smaller happier place. Just then they stopped walking and Kale sat down so Mr. Beet sat down and realized he had nothing more to say, he told Kale all about the journey, the gophers and Mrs. Potato and he could not think of anything else to say. It was silent for a few second.

“Boy you sure like to talk don’t ya?” Kale inquired.

“Oh I’m sorry, I guess I did get a little carried away. Tell me about yourself Kale and your family?” asked Mr. Beet

“Alright, look around ya, this is my family, and well we are dinosaur Kale.” Kale stated. “We aint much of the talking kind, but sure glad to have met ya.” Kale shook Mr. Beet’s hand “look here, we are at the end of my field and that there is the orange trees. They are just as chatty and cheerful as you are so you will be in good company. Take care of yourself now.” Kale turned and walked away disappearing into the other bunches and he was gone.

Mr. Beet had not realized it but Kale made sure he made it safely to the end of his field, they walked for days and it felt like only a little while. “Thank you Kale.” Mr. Beet whispered and he turned to the low top trees. It was beautiful, what a sight to see it takes your breath away and brings tears to your eyes to see such beautiful tall, strong trees and these bright orange balls dancing in the branches. Mr. Beet ran out as fast as he could to see them closer.

“Hello, hello, I’m Mr. Beet and I’m from the field far, far away.” He yelled up to the oranges in the trees. He spun around and around looking at them all waving and dancing he got dizzy and fell down.

“Ha-ha!” All the oranges laughed at him after he fell down. “Hello Mr. Beet welcome to Sunny Valley.”

Oranges were very nice and the days passed and Mr. Beet lost all track of how long he had been there. He could talk to so many oranges and he was happy, he never wanted to leave to go back home.

Just then a strange feeling came over him, the air seemed to get dark and heavy, Mr. Beet felt afraid.

“Oh no!” said some oranges. “RUN MR. BEET, RUN TO THE KALE THEY CAN HELP YOU!” The oranges yelled.

Mr. Beet was not going to wait to find out why, he ran as fast as he could but he was in the open, the trees are so far apart and there is no bunches of greens to hide behind. Mr. Beet was is beg trouble and he knew it when he saw Mr. Gopher swoop in front of him.

“Well, well look who we’ve got here boys.” Said Mr. Gopher.

“I don’t want any trouble Mr. Gopher, please – just leave me alone.”

“Not this time little red, you made me look like a fool in fronta ma boys. I don’t like looking like a fool.”

Mr. Gopher and the others walked closer and closer to Mr. Beet. He was surrounded and there was so many more of them. Mr. Beet could see they all had there claws out, this was it he thought, so afraid, so alone, and he started to cry – but he held his head up strong and brave.

“Mr. Gopher. You can shred me, slice and dice me, you can even blend me up but I did what I set out to do. I succeeded in – spite – of — you! You did not stop me, I out smarted you! I made friends and I saw the other end of the fields. I am an explorer! I had a good life and you are nothing but a fur ball, a bully in these fields.

Those were the last brave words Mr. Beet ever said. The green grass is stained with the memory of where Mr. Beet stood his ground. He may have lost this fight but he was not looser, he was brave, strong and he was what legends are made of.

So because as you can see in the story there is in many fields chemicals sprayed on crops of all kinds, fruits and vegetables so we need to wash off these pesticide residues or we are eating these chemicals. Even though those chemicals may make their way into the plant itself we really don’t want more if we can do anything about it right. So yes we need to give our fruit and vegetables a bath. How are we supposed to do this? With water! Water only takes off more residue than those vegetable cleaners in the store. If you want the very best than use salt. 1 part salt to 9 parts water and be sure to rinse off the salt water once you have finished soaking and scrubbing your fruits and vegetables. You can read more about this at Food Of Wisdom.

Have a great and sunny summer

T.C.