Three Minutes Matching Socks

Normanday #52: Maybe his trunk is cold.

Write for three minutes about…

…the elephant rummaging in your sock drawer.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day November 4 (put “Norman Loves November” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…a conversation you had with a pumpkin.

Cranberly

No, I swear you look good. I promise. Did it hurt much? A little, huh? Well, I think it’s a great look for you. Very cool, very hip, very “on the edge,” you know? And the candle shows it off so well. Really lights everything up. What made you decide to go so Goth? I mean, I like it. I really do. The fangs are just great and the pointy eye brows are a nice touch. It’s scary and yet…inviting, all at the same time. The inviting part is the candle’s glow. And the hole in the back is a nice touch—very gory looking. Who did that? Oh. Squirrels, huh? I bet that is frustrating, especially with no arms. Don’t worry. No one will see that hole. Well, yeah, sure, I did. Only because I am sitting right here beside you on the porch. You have your back up against the bricks and stuff, so no one will see that at all. Just a faint glow on the wall. What? Oh, sure, I can move the candle forward and then that glow will disappear. Anyway, very cool look, Mr. Pumpkin. Oh, excuse me, I mean Jack-O-Lantern. Right? Right? What? Call you Vamp-O-Lantern? Sure thing. And Happy Halloween! Here come the kids…so “Show Time!”

Three Minutes Chatting in a Pumpkin Patch

Normanday #51: Pumpkins like knock-knock jokes.

Write for three minutes about…

…a conversation you had with a pumpkin.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day October 28 (put “Some of Norman’s Best Friends are Pumpkins” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…your imaginary friend.

Lillylamb, age 28

My imaginary friend is the best! She is half angel, half cat. I know that you dog lovers might be thinking how can angel and cat be together in one being? Well, I am not quite sure. I think when she was created all the bad parts of a cat were taken out and replaced with angel parts. Anyway, she is a great reader and an even better gardener. She digs with her paws and then uses her angel powers to make the flowers grow especially pretty. I want to add that she is also a mouser. Yeah, yeah, I know. An angel that hunts mice? Well, just go with me on this one and trust that it is all for the best. Last week, in fact, she hunted a mouse out of the garage, prayed a little prayer for its mousey soul, and sent the corpse a floating on a slice of cheese down the creek nearby. Like I said, just go with me on this one.

Cranberly

Iggy, my (imaginary) friend 

Hello, everyone, this is Iggy. As you can see, Iggy is a white, bengal tiger with blue eyes. I saw a tiger just like him at the Cincinnati Zoo the other day and decided I wanted one of my own. I like Iggy because he is soft and cuddly. He’s pretty quiet too. He never roars. Occasionally he may growl, but only because he is defending me. I love going on adventures with Iggy. He is great for going ahead and checking for danger. He scares anything bad away. He does look pretty vicious, I guess. But he has never been mean or scary to me. Often, Iggy will run ahead and scare away things and then comes back and walks with me. I feel safe when he is beside me. And he is very warm. 

Often, Iggy likes to roll on his back and let me pet his big tummy. I do that while I am reading a book. Iggy doesn’t read, but that’s okay. He’s a tiger and tigers don’t read. I love his eyes. They are blue like mine. Iggy sleeps beside my bed at night. I wish he would sleep beside me, on the bed, but my sister won’t let him because he hogs the bed. My sister and I share a room and a bed. I have a stuffed animal version of Iggy. He lays on the floor beside me. I am glad I have Iggy. He is great when we play make-believe knights and castles. He is great fighting the bad guys that storm the castle. It makes me so happy to have a friend like him.

Author’s note: I did have an imaginary friend that was a Bengal tiger when I was young. I don’t remember the name. I think it was Bengaly or something like that. Iggy sounds good to me now. I don’t remember how old I was, probably 7 or 8. The Cincinnati Zoo had just acquired a family of white Bengal tigers and we were so excited about them. There were pictures of them all over the city. That made me decide to have a pet Bengal tiger of my own. For some reason, I thought they were gentle.

Three Minutes with Your Imaginary Friend

Normanday #50: You don’t see him? He’s standing right there.

Write for three minutes about…

…your imaginary friend.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day October 21 (put “Norman is a Sight for Sore Eyes” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…anything.

Kelly Bingham

www.kellybinghamonline.com

Kitty Love

Kitty finds an old toy mouse.

She takes it to her fluffy house.

Deep in folds of blanket blue,

she curls up and looks out at you.

“I see you in there,” you might say

and watch green eyes wink away.

A soft purr comes from a velvety place.

You lay a palm against her whiskered face.

She emerges from her snuggly den,

climbs into your lap, curls up, and then—

deposits the wet and scraggly toy

into your hand with evident joy.

This is her message: “Owner? Here.

I’ll share my stuff because I hold you dear.”

You in turn give her love and kissing,

thinking:

“those cat-less people

don’t know what they’re missing.”

Three Minutes Filling a Page

Normanday #49: Sky’s the limit.

Write for three minutes about…

…anything.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day October 14 (put “Norman Likes to Knit” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…the most delectable dessert you can imagine.

Cranberly

The Trifle Tower

Bottom of the container: thick layer of chocolate mousse. (Not to be confused with chocolate mouse.)

On top of the mousse, fresh raspberries and raspberry coulis. 

On top of the raspberries, homemade whipped cream with a hint of hazelnut flavoring.

On top of the whipped cream, a layer of warm, chocolate cake.

On top of the cake, thick, hot fudge.

On top of the hot fudge, thin sliced strawberries.

On top of the strawberries, vanilla gelato drizzled with more hot fudge.

Crumbled on top, glazed pecans.

Wes C. Pie

I was recently asked, “What was the most delicious dessert I have ever eaten?”. I began to remember all sorts of food and drink. I remember being my son’s age and discovering soda pop in small, single serving bottles. The flavors included grape, orange, root beer, and cream soda. We only had them during the summer when our neighborhood beach club held their annual picnic. I remember when I lost my front teeth and my mother cut the corn off the cob for me. For some reason it tasted the best then. I never liked meatloaf until my wife insisted on cooking it for me. I don’t know what other people do to theirs, but I can’t get enough of my wife’s meatloaf. I enjoyed the best coffee in a hotel in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Canada. Maybe the century old building in another country had something to do with the taste. I had my best steak in a restaurant that shortly after cooking it for me burned down. But which dessert was the most delicious? I have eaten so many desserts. I have the reputation for always leaving room for dessert. I believe the peach cobbler my mother used to make was the most delicious. Maybe because she is no longer here to make it. Maybe because when she did make it the house filled with the sweet smell of peaches and brown sugar. Maybe it is really the memories of that moment, sparked by a particular taste or smell, that are really delicious.

Schae D. Lane

This is not imaginary, it is real!

I’ve just discovered the most delicious dessert, ever! It’s a cookie. Now, I know what you’re thinking…How can a cookie be the best dessert, ever? How could a simple cookie trump cake, pie or truffle? Have I gone mad?

Well, let me tell you a little bit about myself and then how I discovered this marvelous cookie.  

First, I love to try new recipes. I usually find them in magazines, newspapers, on the internet or from other daring kitchen crusaders, like myself, only much more crafted in the art of flavor, technique and presentation. What can I say, I try, but I’m not a great baker by any means.  

However, what I lack in culinary savoir-faire, I make up for in enthusiasm.  

So now for the cookie! The wonderful creation is called the Italian Lemon Drop Cookie. It spoke to me, electronically, from the internet. I have Italian blood running through these veins, and though I’m not really a big fan of lemon, I felt this cookie couldn’t help but turn out great!  

See what I mean about enthusiasm.

Plus, I had all the ingredients on hand in my pantry. Bonus! That is usually a good indication that the oven will soon be heating up to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

The recipe was easy enough to follow. The first batch came out of the oven. I allowed for the cooling period and taste tested one. Yuck, something was wrong. Why was the cookie bitter? What did I do wrong?  

Looking over the recipe’s ingredients, I found my mistake, baking soda instead of baking powder. I hate when I do that! Okay, second attempt. See, I told you, I’m not the greatest of bakers.  

Second try turned out, oh so much better, delicious in fact!

I let the round, little cookies cool as I whipped up the icing. I added a couple of drops of yellow food dye into the icing to help associate the lemon flavor of the cookie. Then I dipped the top of each cookie into the super sweet mixture, coating the top half with the yellow, gooey icing and setting each on a cooling rack to harden. Once hardened, I sprinkled a hint of powdered sugar on top. Not that it needed more sweetness, I thought it would add texture.

So here is why it is the best dessert…The consistency of the cookie is not crunchy. It’s more cake like, but denser. The cookie itself isn’t sweet, it’s lemony, but not overwhelmingly so. In contrast, the top layer of icing will send your pancreas into shock if you eat too many cookies in one sitting.

The combination of sweet icing, coupled with the lemony flavor of the cookie really is the best of both worlds. Perfection. Best dessert ever.

Three Minutes with Your Sweet Tooth

Normanday #48: What’s for dessert?

Describe the most delectable dessert you can imagine.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day October 7 (put “Norman is as Sweet as a Candy Bar Helping an Old Lady Across the Street” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.
 

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes…
 

…about sitting down for a meal with somebody.

Wes T. Green

Dinner Haiku(s)

Lone I sit to eat

Appetite makes me complete

No conversation

Lone I sit to eat

Appetite makes me complete

Hand, no spoon for soup

Lone I sit to eat

Dinner, the evening treat

Room for dessert — Sweet!

Schae D. Lane

William found his way to the table he and his best friends always sat at to eat their lunches. It was 5th period and the school day was more than halfway finished.

William bought lunch, it was Salisbury steak day and the cafeteria always had the best Salisbury steak. He saw that John, Gavin, Abigail, Kelsey and Taylor were already at the table eating and joking around with each other. It started subtly as William set his tray down on the table.

A couple of chips sailed through the air, next followed by some grapes.

“Hey, what was that?” Kelsey asked. They all turned their heads to where she pointed to the floor at the fallen food.

The next moment erupted into pandemonium. Popcorn, pretzels, sandwiches, peas, carrot sticks, gummy bears, apple slices, spaghetti, salad, mashed potatoes, and Salisbury steaks were launched from different sides of the lunchroom bombarding the students. Screams, laughter and groans echoed in the large room accompanied by the splat of foods against the tables, walls and students. Kids either dove for cover or scrambled becoming active participants in the food fight.

“Duck!” Taylor shouted, grabbing William’s arm, pulling him down as a roll hurled through the air, smacking the wall above his head. Sesame seeds were dislodged at impact pelting the top of his head, making him run a hand through his hair to expel them.

“Thanks,” he murmured glancing at Taylor, who crouched down next to him. Both grabbed their trays to use as shields against the food raining down on them.

William could see his other friends were hiding under the table to avoid the carnage, all except for Gavin, who appeared to be standing on top of the table and throwing food, yelling at the top of his lungs, “You want some more?! How about some salsa to go with those tortilla chips?!” He scooped some salsa off his cheek and returned it in the direction it came from.

They watched as the kids really got into it, grabbing at trays to get more food items to throw. The floor of the cafeteria became covered with bits of food. Some students decided to make a break for it and ran slipping and sliding to get to the exits. Teachers ran in from all directions to stop the food throwing frenzy, slipping as well.

Just as it started the food fight ended. No one could really remember how it started or who started it.

Cranberly

A haiku

A delightful meal

And fantastic company

Fills belly and soul