June 27th Challenge

Hi, it’s Christina –

Good morning all. I have been so productive these past few days in everything except my writing, but it is still a good thing. I’ve been tackling laundry, and cleaning, and grocery shopping. I think if I can get the world around me into some sort of order, I will be able to focus better on some creativity.

However, now that summer is upon us, the quiet time in my house has been drastically reduced, so I think the priority for those couple of hours will be the remaining two stories I have agreed to edit. I need to get those off of my plate and back in the author’s hands so they can do their re-writes.

Well, mini-quiet-time is ticking away, so let’s get right to the challenge.

Your last challenge was:

 

Boy, that was stupid.

 

Through the years, I have been known for my lack of coordination and for a few temporary lapses in good judgment, but in this case I case I just had to say “Boy, that was stupid.”

 

It was a few days before Christmas and my daughters and I were baking. We had made several batches of cookies, so the house was nice and toasty warm; finally the perfect time to tackle the Christmas bread. The bread was a persnickety beast. If it was too cool in the house, the bread would not rise. If the milk was too warm when you dissolved the yeast, the bread would not rise. If you kneaded it wrong or if your ingredients were off, the bread would not rise. Did I mention, this is an old family recipe where nothing is written down and nothing is measured?

 

Anyway, everything is going well and we are adding flour into the mixture to get it the right consistency – my only variation to the tradition is to start the dough in the Kitchen-aid - we add a big scoop of flour, and at that very moment the dough decides it is time to solidify. The dough hits the new scoop of flour and POOF, there is flour raining down everywhere. Blindly I fumble to turn off the mixer. When I can get enough flour out of my eyes to open them, I look around. Counter and everything on the counter, stove, cabinets and floor in the corner we were working in all covered in flour. My daughter looks like a B movie ghost and has the most horrified expression on her face, and I just know I’m her mirror image.

 

I look at her and say, “Oh Lucy, we made a big mess,” to which she replies, “huh?” so I start to explain the I Love Lucy episode to her. As I finish the story and we are starting to giggle, my husband comes home from work. At the sound of the door closing, my daughter and I turn in unison.

 

My husband briefly surveys the situation and then replies in his best Cuban accent, “Oh Lucy, you made a BIG mess!”

 

My daughter and I look at each other and dissolve into a fit of laughter.

 

 

Yup, true story.

 

Your Next Challenge is (compliments of my youngest):

 

Reality is flipped. (Her examples were: whites were discriminated against or heterosexuality was the minority or the outcome of a war was reversed.)

 

You have 10 minutes (be honest). There is no right or wrong, just write. Spelling and punctuation don’t count and NO ONE is allowed to criticize what someone else has written. Go.