When I was a little girl, I read a story that involved making ice cream out of snow. I have no recollection of what the story was about, the ice cream making may or may not have been the whole of it or it could have just been the resolution. I haven't thought of that story in ages but I do know that it intrigued me for years. Ice cream out of snow? If that was a real thing, think of all the ice cream a kid could make! And vanilla ice cream was my favorite flavor (and still is) so how hard could it be to take white snow and make it in to white ice cream?
Monday, January 4, 2010

Camel colored, spiny and totally out of place, it lay there in the grass, the sun hitting its many lines and ridges casting shadows across its two major peaks. The wind blew through the long blades and the salty scent wafted through the air, teasing, tempting. The smell, so strong, so different attracted her attention. She turned sharply, lifting her head and froze, testing the air. Slowly she stepped forward, afraid of loosing the smell, wanting to follow the trail. More faintly it drifted past her again. Large nose leading the way, she picked through the trees, trying to avoid leaving behind a trail of her own. Her dark brown coat helped to hide her massive body in the forest, but danger still lay all around and she shouldn't be wondering alone so far from the others, but the smell, the smell, so attractive called her forward. Ahead the trees parted and a vast prairie sprawled in all directions. She stopped, wary of the open ground, but the salt on the air tempted her so. 'Not far,' she told herself, 'Just a little ways to see what makes such a succulent scent.' A few steps out of the trees was all it took to locate the source. Though small, exceptionally so in the eyes of one so big, she saw it laying there in the green grass. A tiny oblong object, multi-faceted and pinched in the middle, it lay there as on a platter made just for her. Her eyes widened in anticipation and one last time she scanned her surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary in sight. Slowly, deliberately, she stepped forward, eyes locked on the prize. Mechanically she made each step, drawn toward the tantalizing miniature object. Mouth watering in preparation she made the final steps until she stood directly above her siren, so small yet so powerful. A final preparatory breath and then gingerly she lowered her head.

Come on Little One,
Ok, so here is the first Picture and Story. Go 1/1/10!

Sometimes ideas are really hard to come by, thoughts are hard to formulate or at least put into words. Some are simple, such as "It is true that my anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hun- I mean, what is she wearing??" or ,"What should I have for dinner?" or even, "Did I put on deodorant?" But others can be complex, like, "We have this New Year's plan to be creative, but now I have less than an hour to write something interesting or meaningful or poignant and I have no idea what it could be. Or rather, I have lots of ideas, some long, some short, some silly, some sad, but which do I chose?"
