Matthew Leo is an Amazon self-published author of "Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles". I have written over 200 poems, and written numerous articles. If you enjoyed any article please let me know with a heart & for more content please tip.
My son Tyler was a funny kid. At about two, he already had a rather expansive vocabulary and could verbalize his thoughts and feelings pretty well, I thought, for his age. He would often put words he had just learned in new and strange combinations to see how it would work out, often on-the-fly.
One of my earliest escapades occurred when I was only 4 years old. The time me and my brother decided to cook breakfast for my mother. My father was overseas at the time, so we kids wanted to do something to cheer her up. We were all sad he was gone. However, we knew the sweet taste of good French toast was also her favorite. In pitch black darkness, at 3 o’clock in the morning I roused from my sleep. I was barely getting out of my toddler years when for some wild reason I woke up in the middle of the night and had the bright idea to make breakfast for my mother. My heart was in the right place, I thought. I had wanted to do something special for my mother. She was and is my everything. Even at 4 years of age I had acknowledged this, and I wanted to do something I just knew she was going to love. However, intentions don’t often line up with capability when you are only 4 years old. I had also acknowledged this, and decided it would be in my best interests to recruit some additional help for this breakfast-making mission. My younger siblings.
The Clappy Hands Literally by accident (and I despise using that word, but here its almost a pun) I discovered something rather interesting about the clappy button (claps, applause, etc.) Until now, I have been blissfully ignorant of how the button actually works. If I wanted to clap for a particular piece, I would click the the clappy hands ( I just love saying clappy hands, don’t you?), the exact number of times I felt I would normally clap for something that excited me, or at the very least, earned my respect. I talk more about my ranges for giving claps in the link just below.
The following is a short-list of writing resources you may want to consider adding to your bookmarks. After each one I will include a short description for each resource and how it can be used to your best benefit.
Do you ever wonder how chefs and cooks all around the world do it? I mean, they study for years, honing their skills, learning to manipulate ingredients. They blur the lines between what one food is and what one isn’t, and occasionally marry flavors together in ways that either compliment or heighten the tasting experience of the other. Cooking is an adventure in more ways than one. It is about experimenting, and walking paths that few have stumbled through. In this day, the 21st century is leaving less and less undiscovered territory to explore. It almost seems that everything has been invented. No new ideas left in the world. I submit to you my theory: the world is not quite dead yet. There are still new flavor combinations to discover. You only have to open your mind to the possibilities. Some of the things I have discovered, I have done so by accident. In retrospect, I believe that it is quite possible that some of the great cuisines that are available today were also discovered by accident or out of necessity, but seldom by design.
Over the years, my wife has cooked for me so many different meals that won my heart through my stomach. When we first met, I was skin and bone. Seriously! Whenever my wife explains to people I looked when we first met, it is always "He was about 130 pounds soak n' wet." It was no doubt that her cooking filled me out to where she thought I wouldn't blow away anymore. One of the best ingredients she used in so many of her recipes was the oft-overlooked bacon grease.
Medium is a fickle mistress, one that does not give up all of her secrets on the first night love making. She has to be explored and stoked, until she eventually gave me glimpses of what I could do and what I could not.
Two eyes ponder about the town; Two lips show a wicked frown. An aroma reaches his nose from the east. 'Tis the smell of gold," he says. "How sweet".