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Entries for various contests and challenges, as well as buffoonery and poppycock. |
| This is a place for me to write entries for contests and challenges, as well as general items of nonsensical contents. Although most of these items are short and condensed, they may one day become something more. |
| This morning I had a bit of an appetite so I decided to make myself a bowl of oatmeal. While I was eating, my new muse, Leora, came in and asked, "What are you eating?" "Oatmeal." "You know that's actually porridge." "Yes, I know that. But being American, I usually refer to it as oatmeal." Leora nodded, then informed me that the Quakers discovered oats when they moved from California to Pennsylvania. I took another spoonful of my boiled oats and told her I wasn't aware that the Quakers ever lived in California. She sat down and told me this story: A band of Vikings had gotten lost in Baffin Bay one hot summer and made a wrong turn as they tried to find their way back to Newfoundland. They inadvertently crossed over north America (it was a hot summer, so the ice had melted) and reached the Pacific. But, by this time, winter was setting in and they were desperately trying to get further south before getting locked into the now returning ice. They eventually made it to northern California, where it's always nice and landed their longboats. It didn't take them long to discover they had found a new land (not Newfoundland) that was sparsely populated by mountain men and some prospectors waiting for gold to be discovered. They also discovered, to their dismay, the ground would shake and tremble. Not liking these quakes all the time, they stocked up their longboats and headed down to the Panama Canal, crossed over, and then headed north hoping to find their way back to Newfoundland. But as they traveled up the east coast they started to run out of food and the beer barrels had gone dry. They went ashore looking for supplies, which took them quite some time. But eventually they had enough food and had brewed up some beer to last them for the rest of the journey. When they returned to the coast, however, they discovered some pilgrims had landed and took their longboats apart for lumber to build a settlement! The pilgrims were friendly enough and asked these vikings where they come from. The Vikings told the tale of their journey from Newfoundland to Foundnewland, which the mountain men called California, and how they had left because of the frequent quakes there. Of course, this resulted in the pilgrims calling them "Quakers". The pilgrims also found a liking for the grain these Quakers had processed for food on their boats, and soon they were trading. The "Quakers" soon realized that these rolled oats could be a gold mine, so instead of building more boats and returning to Newfoundland, they went back to Pennsylvania to grow and roll more oats, which they traded with the pilgrims, who in turn traded them with the French fur traders for pelts. Eventually oats made it all the way back to Europe. "The rest" she said, "is history." I smiled at Leora and asked, "When did this all took place?" "Oh, I'm not sure the exact dates, but it was long ago, back in the early nineteen hundreds." Still smiling, I told her, "You're a terrific storyteller, but I think your history's a bit off." "Oh yeah, well if you don't believe me, go look it up on Google!" With that she stormed off and left me with a bowl of cold oatmeal. I didn't look it up, but earthquakes—Quakers? Maybe she's on to something... "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
| Sometimes a memory floats across my mind like a leaf floating on an autumn breeze. More often than not, I watch it float by and then it's gone. Other times I catch hold of it and it carries me back through the years to times past. Today while looking out at the sunshine glimmering off the white, new snow, I contemplated ideas to write about in my blog, and then, whilst lost in my thoughts a leaf of memory from days long past floated across my minds eye and I gently grasp hold of it. I was transported across time and miles to my Grandma's house, sitting in the living room with my family, watching the Ed Sullivan Show on her big Zenith Color TV. Most of the show had been music my grandparents and parents enjoyed and my siblings and I sat, rather bored and impatient, but still and considerate, for the show to end. Then, this: "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
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And the Jackie Gleason Show. I was pretty young, but my dad always watched it. And the Flintstones, Woody Woodpecker, and Yogi Bear. 
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