Archive | February 2015

Thyme for Love #9

Tuesday Tales

Sally, a devoted business woman and owner of Crafter’s Cottage, just met an organic farmer interested in being a vendor at the upcoming herb festival. Their meeting to fill out the vendor application turned into a dinner date … and now an outing at the lake. 

This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘arm’. Return to TUESDAY TALES for more great snippets.

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Saturday was so hectic Sally’s head was spinning. Lila, the part time high school girl that helped out in the shop had called in sick, leaving all the register work and customer questions to Sally. Probably only spring fever, she muttered under her breath as she hung up the phone, as Lila had a tendency to come down ‘ill’ when the weather was gorgeous. The warmer weather brought customers into town in droves. Many had to circle the block several times to chance upon getting a parking space. Which was good for the businesses in downtown. None of the merchants were complaining. Somehow Victoria, over at Serendipity managed to get out for a few minutes for lunch. She’d popped into Crafters Cottage to chat. When she saw Sally wrapping up items behind the counter, hands flying, and the line of four customers getting fidgety, Victoria gave a brief wave and took off. cnj_potato saladAt the end of the day Sally locked the door, turned the ‘OPEN’ sign around and slumped against the door in fatigue. A hot bath and a glass of wine – that’s what’s calling my name, she thought. Damn! I still have to go home and make potato salad. Maybe she’d call off tomorrow. Just staying home – maybe never getting out of her jammies – sounded divine. But … hmmmm …. The hunky farmer was pretty divine himself. Her mind flashed back to how he’d looked when he’d dropped off a basket of fresh vegetables, herbs, and onions a few days earlier. No. He’s awfully scrumptious, I’ll go. The thought of a relaxing lakeside cook out, on a beautiful weekend to boot, overcame her lazy dazy thoughts of being a slug bug. She dragged herself back to the counter, to finish her tasks for the night before heading home. As she counted out the cash and debit card receipts for the day that filled the till, her spirits lifted and gave her a renewed burst of energy. She was happy. Her vendors would be happy when they got their monthly statements, most with a nice fat check to accompany the monthly accounting. Grabbing her purse, she stuffed the deposit bag inside and headed for the back. Turning out the light she called to the vacant store, “Bye-bye crafts. Play day tomorrow!” The first chore in the door was to get the potatoes boiling. While they simmered away, she chopped a pungent red onion, diced up a handful of fresh parsley and slivered a few stalks of celery from Izzy’s bounty. Opting for a quick and easy tortellini microwave meal to ease the kitchen burden, she poured a glass of cold wine while it nuked and had it all consumed by the time the potatoes were done. She tossed the ingredients in a bowl, added a few sliced boiled eggs from the day before, seasoned the mix and put it to bed in the refrigerator to chill and marinate overnight. The next thing she knew, morning sunshine broke through the thin curtains, waking her up. Sally shook her head and glanced around, trying to figure out where she was. Realizing she was in her own bedroom, she looked down and saw that she’d never even made it to her jammies. She’d laid down on the bed, fully clothed, and never had a conscious thought until the sunlight woke her up. With a jolt she looked at the clock. Nine thirty! Izzy would be there in thirty minutes. Up she flew, headed towards the shower. No time to contemplate outfits this morning. She grabbed a repeat of her favorite ‘off the clock’ wear: tank top and long flowing skirt. She grabbed her swimsuit, appraised it with a critical eye and frowned. If need be, it would have to do. A newer and sexier one would have been nice. Too late now. She tossed it in her bag. Just in case it was warm enough and they took a dip in the lake after lunch. She was barely combing out her wet tresses when the doorbell announced her date. Izzy stood on her porch, his trademark grin plastered across his face. “Ready to go?” “Just about. Let me get the potato salad.” She handed him her tote. “Take this to the car? I’ll be right out.” cnj_big black truckCold bowl in hand, she locked the front door and turned to see a gleaming black hulk sitting in her driveway. She walked slowly towards the monstrosity, wondering how she’d get up without making a fool of herself. “This is different. It’s not what you drove in town.” “Naw.” He chuckled. “That’s my work truck. This is my ride for special ladies.” He took the potato salad and set it in an ice chest in the backseat. Turning, he saw her puzzled look. “C’mon, I’ll help you up.” Escorting her around to the passenger side he patted a silver foot hold, then held out an arm. “Here we go. Your chariot awaits m’lady.”

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Thyme for Love #8

 Tuesday Tales

Sally, a devoted business woman and owner of Crafter’s Cottage, just met an organic farmer interested in being a vendor at the upcoming herb festival. Their meeting to fill out the vendor application has suddenly turned into a dinner date.

This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘ready’. Return to TUESDAY TALES for more great snippets.

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“Jeans or no jeans, I’m up for a stroll around the lake anytime,” Sally said. “Which lake? Lewisville?”

“We could go to Lewisville. Or … if you’re free this weekend, we could head up to Ray Roberts for the afternoon. I have a favorite cove I like to visit. I grill a mean hot dog, if you’re up for it. I could give Hank a run for his money behind the coals.”

“Mmmm, grilled hot dogs by the lake.” Sally rubbed her stomach in approval. “I’m in. If we can go on Sunday. I have to be in the store Saturday.”

“Sunday works for me. I was hoping to get a field tilled and planted by Saturday. I’ll be ready to chill for a few hours.”

“It sounds great. Do you like potato salad? I make a pretty decent one, if I say so myself.”

garlic braidI love potato salad. With red onions?”

“Of course, they’re the best.” Sally glanced over at his plate and pointed to the onions smothering his brisket. “I take it you like onions.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Just a tad. They’re one of my favorite crops to grow. And garlic. I’ll have fresh onions and some garlic braids at the herb festival too. In fact, I’ll drop a bunch off for you later this week. And some potatoes. You can sample them and use them for the potato salad. Then, you can tell me what you think of them Sunday.”

“What other kinds of herbs do you have?”

“It depends on the time of year. Right now I have … oh, you know, the favorites …” At this, he broke into song, “parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…”

A few diners looked in his direction, puzzled looks on their faces. He looked around and mumbled, “Guess I’d better not quit my day job, huh?”

herbsSally leaned forward, elbows on the table, and looked at her handsome, unabashed dinner partner. “So, do you have thyme?”

“Thyme? Time for what? For you, my dear, I have all the time in the world.”

Thyme for Love #7

 Tuesday Tales

Sally, a devoted business woman and owner of Crafter’s Cottage, just met an organic farmer interested in being a vendor at the upcoming herb festival. Their meeting to fill out the vendor application has suddenly turned into a dinner date.

This week we’re writing to a picture prompt. Only 300 words. Return to TUESDAY TALES for more great snippets.

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TT_February pic prompt

Hank’s BBQ was a staple eatery for most of the Oak Grove Square merchants. They frequently ran into one another as they dashed in to pick up their favorite sauce slathered delicacy. Many business arrangements were finalized over a dish of his creamy banana pudding. With the handsome man sitting across the red checkered tablecloth from her, his hair gently brushing the tops of his shoulders each time he moved his head, Sally had never been more aware of her background. The colors seemed brighter and the aromas more pungent. Even the Toby Keith melody blasting from the speakers as he crooned about ‘You shouldn’t kiss me like this unless you mean it like that’ seemed melodious and romantic.

“Well, it’s not the Ritz.” Izzy laughed and draped a functional paper napkin across his jean clad knees. “You’re probably more used to the fine dining experience with men. You know, the whole cloth napkins and champagne glasses thing. Sorry. I just give you this.” His hands motioned around the room full of loud, beer drinking, beef guzzling diners.

“No. This is perfect. I think I could devour one of Hank’s pulled pork sandwiches every day.”

“But you’re so elegant and sophisticated looking. You don’t look like a BBQ and beer type of gal.”

“You’ve only seen me in my ‘work clothes’. Running a business, with the customers and the vendors I deal with on a daily basis, I like to look professional. I like real though. I’m not into show. Just get me away from work and I’m a jeans and T-shirt gal.”

A grin spread across Izzy’s cheeks, showing off a dimple she hadn’t noticed before. “Too bad you didn’t wear your jeans tonight. We could have gone for a stroll around the lake later.”

Thyme for Love – #6

Tuesday Tales

Sally, a devoted business woman and owner of Crafter’s Cottage, just met an organic farmer interested in being a vendor at the upcoming herb festival. Their meeting to fill out the vendor application has suddenly turned into a dinner date.

This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘ring’. Return to TUESDAY TALES for more great snippets.

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“Tomorrow night?”

“Terrific! That’s fine,” Sally replied. Then thought to herself, Great! What did I get myself into? Tomorrow night? So soon? Dinner? Am I ready for this?

Izzy pulled a business card out of his wallet. Grabbing a pen on the counter, he scribbled another number on the card. “Here’s my business number, and my personal cell. Give me a ring if anything comes up. Otherwise I look forward to seeing you. Shall I pick you up here? Or at home?”

“Ummm, here’s good. I close at six and it takes me about thirty minutes to do the final paperwork for the day. If you want to meet me here, we can walk over to Hank’s.”

“Sounds like a plan.” With a final grin in her direction he turned and ambled out the door.

CNJ_date clothesSally admired the view of the form fitting jeans leaving her store. And then, reality set it with the age-old dilemma. Good Lord, what am I going to wear? I want to look nice. But I have to wear it at work all day. I still need to look professional. I don’t want to come off as too loose. But kind of sexy would be nice.

Visions of her wardrobe drifted through her mind. No, not the grey vested outfit – too stuffy. Not the pink clingy silk top – too revealing, especially for a ‘business’ dinner. Maybe her blue tank top with the long patchwork styled skirt. It was comfortable, and nice looking. Not too prim and proper. Not too slutty. It wasn’t ‘business-y’ and it wasn’t ‘date-y’ either.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Customers came and went. The cash register beeped out a nice steady rhythm, just enough to keep Sally hopping. It was when she arrived home, to a quiet house, that her mind started racing. Pulling out the outfit she chose to wear, she inspected it for stains or wrinkles, then laid it across the back of a chair for the next day.

She finally climbed under the covers, long after the moon was casting its silvery glow across the yard. Sleep was a long time coming.

She finally climbed under the covers, long after the moon was casting its silvery glow across the yard. Sleep was a long time coming.