Sometimes I'm funny. Follow me on Twitter! @LindsayRaeWrit1
The kettle barely has a chance to whistle before she removes it from the burner. Water heated to precicely one hundred ninety degrees is poured into the gleaming cylinder of the french press, already prepared with coarse-ground, organic, freshly-roasted coffee beans from an ethically sourced farm in Columbia. A timer is set for four minutes. While she waits, she leans against the countertop and opens up her phone.
Eat it, too.
I've been going to Alycia's Bakery for weeks now, trying to figure out what she has that I don't. The bell above the door jingles melodiously as I enter the store, the windows decorated with painted-on cartoons filling the small space with cheerful natural light. A glass-encased counter dominates the room, overfilled with breads, pastries, doughnuts, and cakes. The smell, the glorious smell, surrounds me. I could close my eyes and walk down the street, guided by smell alone, to find this bakery. The smell clings to me after only being in here one minute; I'm sure it engulfs her entire being. She doesn't smell like shampoo, moisturizer, or perfume. She smells like ginger snaps, lemon tarts, and sourdough bread.
Dare is the only option. I don't know who made it a rule, or if anyone ever wrote it down (does anyone write anything down anymore?), but dare is the only acceptable answer when it's your turn.
Well, A Prince...
Once upon a time... there were two princes who lived in a magical kingdom far, far away. The older brother, Logan, was brave and strong. He could climb to the very top of the playground, swim in the deep end of the pool, and jump from one couch to the other in a single leap.
5 Things That Made Me A Better Writer
I had been a closeted writer for years. Writing in secret, I pored over my Word document for months at a time, watching that word count steadily climb, and told no-one about it-- save my closest friends. The last thing I wanted was to tell someone I was writing a book and have nothing come of it; I'd be degected and ashamed of my unaccomplishment. If I waited until I had "something to show for it," surely that would be better.
My Heart is in Seattle
I remember when road trips were fun. A stop at the gas station to grab armfuls of treats. A Spotify playlist with all our old favorites, accompanied by off-key singing. Too much coffee, and the requisite ten bathroom breaks after.
The Happy Tortoise
Are you tired of your tortoise lazing about the house? Do you wish your shelled companion radiated success and happiness?
A Campfire Sonnet
Pale freckled skin, the sun's rays have turned pink Take shelter from the heat beneath the shade Ov'r hills of green a setting sun does sink