My Answers for #FibbingFriday! 9/18/20

It’s time once again for Fibbing Friday! It’s the one time where lying is not only permitted, it’s required! For the complete rules and to join in, start here!

  • What exactly is Yorkshire pudding?

Pudding that can only be eaten on days ending in Y.

  • What is treacle, and why do people make tarts out of it?

A potato-like fruit from Peru grown only for tarts.

  • What is the key ingredient of haggis?

A Sea Hag

  • How is toffee made?

It isn’t made, it’s hunted and toffee season is near – to the hunt!

  • How did pound cake get its name?

By beating up all the other cakes.

  • Why is candy corn so named?

Parents call regular corn that to get their children to eat it.

  • What is marzipan?

A special pan for making Marzi.

  • Why is a baker’s dozen so named?

Because they’re only for bakers.

  • What is meant by the idiom, “Too many cooks spoil the pot”?

It’s a reminder to clean the pot after each use!

  • What is meant by the idiom, “What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander”?

Goose and Gander have to share the same chicken nugget sauce.

Smiling flower

Holding On, Letting go

The running marriage joke is men never remember wedding anniversaries.

In our case, I was the one who’d remember at the last minute.

In his techie, geeky way, Den configured the date we were married, September 17, 1983, in some base language or mathematical equation he used daily… for something.

He’s not here to remind me anymore… which is why I’ll never forget it… or stop counting.

Today would have been our 37th anniversary, but instead, it’s my second without him.

The photo is from the last anniversary we “celebrated” – our 34th, with a surprise dinner from our three children. We should have known something was up as David, Drew, and Lindsey were rarely in Tucson at the same time. 😀

Den and Fle

Ironically, the next two times we would all be together were for Den’s mom’s funeral… and then his.

The last seventeen months feel like an eternity and yesterday at the same time.

Platitudes like time heals all wounds or it will get better in time are false, useless and should never be spoken again.

The only one that is true is life goes on… and we have to go with it.

Happy Anniversary, My Love.

My Answers for #FibbingFriday!

It’s time once again for Fibbing Friday! It’s the one time where lying is not only permitted, it’s required! For the complete rules and to join in, start here!

  • ‘She had the biggest aspidistra in the world.’ But what is an aspidistra?

A facial mole

  • What is the main ingredient in Beef Wellington?

Salmon from Wellington, Maine

  • Who was Tufty?

Last year’s WWE champion

  • What is a Port Folio?

A bland, sweet wine

  • What is a bootee?

The boots Hootie and the Blowfish wear

  • What is meant by ‘You have been tangoed’?

Kicked out of dance class

  • What is a blue bottle?

The bottle that contains the potion to make you small

  • How do you make shortbread?

Make long bread and cut it in half

  • What colour is cotton candy?

Cotton is white, sooo…

  • What are cowslips and snap dragons?

Two of the Harry Potter Houses

Smiling flower

#writephoto #Serenity A Drabble




For visually challenged writers, the image shows a blue-lit landscape, land and calm water mirroring the cloudy, silver-lit sky.

writephoto logoWritten for the #WRITEPHOTO WEEKLY PROMPT hosted by SUE VINCENT

Calm possessed her for the first time in seven months.

She no longer felt the need to scream and curse God.

The cacophony of doctors, nurses, and life-sustaining machines no longer blared in her head.

In this moment, her only memory was of the beautiful Mona Lisa smile her mother gave her before taking her last breath.

She looked down, her tears mixing with the cool evening waters, watching the ashes float away, becoming one with her mother’s beloved cove.

Despite her broken heart, she enjoyed the twilight’s serenity, knowing the woman who had given her life was at peace.

A drabble is a short work of fiction of precisely one hundred words in length.
©2020 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

Happy National Read-a-Book Day!

Reading should not be presented to children as a chore, a duty. It should be offered as a gift.” —Kate DiCamillo

Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but more important, it finds homes for us everywhere.” —Jean Rhys

Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.” —Anna Quindlen

Keep reading. It’s one of the most marvelous adventures anyone can have.” —Lloyd Alexander

Fibbing Friday!

It’s time once again for Fibbing Friday! It’s the one time where lying is not only permitted, it’s required! For the complete rules and to join in, start here!

Who was the first President of the United States?

Christopher Columbus

What was Abraham Lincoln’s best known nickname?

Awkward Abe

Who’s faces are carved into Mt. Rushmore?

Moe, Larry, and Curly… and The Fonz!

What historic event started on April 19th, 1775?

I started my diet. (It ended on April 20th.)

What act of infamy is Benedict Arnold best known for?

He completed a Rubik’s Cube!

Who was Gen. Charles Cornwallis?

Mrs. Cornwallis’ husband.

Why do we celebrate Labor Day?

Because it’s the first Monday in September!

What is so special about the Autumnal Equinox?

It’s the start of the Halloween season!

Why do tree leaves change color in the fall?

Because they forgot to do it in Spring!

What do people mean when they say, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”?

It’s the number one rule of apple-tossing; the apple tossed closest to the tree wins!

#writephoto #tokens “Tokens of Innocence”



For visually challenged writers, the image shows a feather, an autumn leaf and two bright red berries or beads, left amongst the stones and plants by a stone that looks like a head with jewelled eyes…

writephoto logoWritten for the #WRITEPHOTO WEEKLY PROMPT hosted by SUE VINCENT

“Tokens of Innocence”

“I’m nervous.”

“Man, I’m terrified.”

Twelve-year-old Jacky Moore turned to his friend, Matty Eastman, also twelve, and both boys erupted into laughter.

Jacky swept his dark brown curls away from his eyes. “We sound like babies.”

“Dude, think about it. Two months ago, we were the big kids at Meadowbrook Elementary, and in two days we’ll be seventh-graders at Southwestern Junior High… and the babies in the building.”

“You’re not helping.”

Matty leaned back against the birch tree and looked out over the small pond.

“I know, man, but it’s all scary. Six years ago, we were in kindergarten and six years from now, we’ll be high school graduates.”

“I’m gonna throw up.”

Matty chuckled and pulled a long tapered feather from his rucksack. “Remember when we found this and had everyone convinced it was an eagle feather?”

“You still have that? I thought you tossed it after Bartholomew Baden busted us.”

“He only knew it was a wild turkey feather because his uncle poaches them.”

Jacky sat down next to his friend. “Big-mouth Bart. Didn’t his family move?”

“Yeah. To someplace like Montana or Wyoming, I think.”

“Where there are lots of wild turkeys.”

The boys high-fived each other, then Jacky nodded toward the bag. “What else you carrying around?”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Matty reached into the rucksack and took out a large white rock.

“Meldrick!” Jacky grabbed the smooth rock with bejeweled eyes and clutched it to his chest, belly-laughing.

Matty tried to reprimand his friend. “Don’t Laugh at Lord Meldrick, he’s sensitive,” but fell over in his own fit of laughter.

Sucking in large gulps of air, Jacky held Meldrick in the palm of his outstretched hand. “Dude, this thing got you into so much trouble… but it was funny too.”

“Whew! Don’t I know it.” Matty grinned. “But it was fun.”

“I thought you were going to be the first fourth-grader at Meadowbrook to get medicated and put away!”

Matty howled. “I still say I didn’t do anything wrong. My dad went on and on about all the money people spent on pet rocks in the eighties, so what was wrong with me having a pet rock?”

“Dude, you didn’t go out and buy a pet rock… you made your own!” Falling to his side with laughter again, Lord Meldrick rolled from his hand. Matty leaned over and picked him up. He fingered the red stone eyes he’d taken from his mother’s craft box and applied with a glue gun.

“I thought I was being creative. You know, using my imagination.”

“I could be wrong, Eastman, but talking to Lord Meldrick could have been the problem.”

“Why? We talk to Ranger and your family talks to Deacon. No one expects dogs to respond, but we still talk to them.”

Jacky rolled on to his stomach, leaning on his elbows.

“I believe your dad said, “Dogs can interact with us. Rocks can’t.”

Matty snickered. “Only my dad.” He leaned over and sat Meldrick at the base of the tree.

“You leaving it here?”

“Meldrick is a he, not it, and yeah. My mom’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline every time she walks into my room and sees him.”  Matty stuck the turkey feather into the ground next to his pet rock. “He can watch over our spot and be Ruler of the Woods.”

Matty stood, brushing off his jeans. “We’d better go. You know my dad. His idea of well-done burgers is burned burgers.”

Jacky stood to follow his best friend but stopped. “Wait.”


Slipping his hand into his pocket, Jacky removed to smooth red beads and placed them on a rock next to Meldrick.

Matty gripped his friend’s shoulder. “You sure, man?”

They both looked down at the beads given to Matty by a crisis counselor after his neighbors and classmates, Tommy and Ricky Reynolds, were killed in a car accident with their father two years ago. Jacky and the twin brothers started kindergarten together.  The beads were one of the coping mechanisms students were offered to deal with grief and anxiety. Jacky Moore carried his beads every day for almost two years.

Jacky smiled, swiping away a lone tear. “Yeah, man. It’s time to let them go.” He considered his friend. “Life sucks.”

Waggling his eyebrows to lighten the moment, Matty pulled a face. “And we’re only seventh graders.”

Jacky grinned and pushed his friend toward the well-worn path. Matty rambled on.

“We have to get used to six classes a day, final exams, MORE homework—I think the universe hates us—sports practices… dude, you playing basketball or football? We’re tall enough to play b-ball, but girls love football players. Girls! Dude, we’re going to meet new girls and maybe even date. Uh oh. Dates cost money. Man, we’ll have to get jobs! Does this never end?”

Jacky laughed, shaking his head as Matty babbled. He glanced back once at the small tokens from moments in their childhood and knew things would never be the same.


©2020 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved