As I was walking along the river on a warm May morning, I noticed the salmon berry blossoms had begun to shed their pink petals, revealing the tiny, green drupelets that lay beneath.
“Goodbye” I said, as I was leaving the house to run some errands. “Thank you” replied my husband absentmindedly from the kitchen. I paused on my way out the door, giving him a quizzical look. “Thank you for going away” he replied with a mischievous smile.
As I was checking out at the supermarket the other day, I noticed that the pork tenderloin I’d selected rang in as: “ptenderloin”. Is that a silent “p” I wondered, as in the word pterodactyl?
The sign advertised pastries made “from scratch” and I wondered for the first time about the origin of this phrase. Surely it must sound odd to an ESL student, not unlike saying made “from itch”? Did it have something to do with the scraping of a bowl by hand?
It’s time for a hypothetical. If you haven’t played this game before: I come up with a thought provoking question for you to ponder. Sometimes it’s just a choice between two undesirable options (i.e. would you rather have sex with your sibling or a bear)
Hitting my elbow the other day, right on the funny bone, got me thinking: Fuck, shit, motherfucker! But after that, as the pain subsided, I wondered: why are elbows so poorly designed and so easy to injure? And how can we improve them?
Coming home from work late, she strips off her clothes as she enters her apartment; pops some bread in the toaster, opens the fridge and pours herself a glass of wine.