May 20, 2008

Sweetens Pastries and Long Waits for Bus Rides: review: 4" Stainless Steel Dredge Shaker With Handle

Sweetens Pastries and Long Waits for Bus Rides
4" Stainless Steel Dredge Shaker With Handle
On the brusque-brown sour-smelling log felled years before by Nancy's father, we sat with purpose. Ours, this day, was to wait for a bus which never came. But no Estragons were we, and the bus was no Godot. Happier sans school this shining day in May, we waited because of obligation only.

May's morning courted us with blooms and birds and baking. The baking was to be done at school, and we were making brownies, the kind with the pastry-style crust on top, with the shaking of gentle sugar.

My job was simple. Bring a sugar-ready dredge. That I had, packed in my backpack. Clearly, though, with no bus in sight, a better use was found.

My left hand splayed against the log, and I began to sprinkle, as if in unction toward the coming day of play, to outline my fingers. Nancy pressed her right hand atop of mine, and my flecking shaped a new design, a white silhouette of friendship.

Wind, rain, and ants have wisped and washed away evidence of that day, but, so long as Nancy's dad ne'er moves that log, I can bring out the dredge with new sugar to shake, and find again the day of waiting for a day in second grade that never came.

--Brockeim

May 07, 2008

Cleans Shoes from Stolen Grapes: review: Colgate Cavity Protection Fluoride Toothpaste, Regular Flavor, 8.2-Ounce Tubes (Pack of 6)

Cleans Shoes from Stolen Grapes
Colgate Cavity Protection Fluoride Toothpaste, Regular Flavor, 8.2-Ounce Tubes (Pack of 6)
The glistened, moist Colgate's toothpaste slipped across my shoe. No shoe's tongue would taste the cool mint, though its clever scent tickled the air. My shoe was stained, it seemed, from the juice of fallen grapes stepped upon while wooing Nancy's summer affections.

Stepping where I dared step, to swipe, then deliver the ripest, rarest grapes from Mr. Schesta's vines, I enjoyed the perfect crime. His garden was well-known around the block, and his grapes were delicacies. The sun pierced the morning's pleasure, and, I, an able-bodied six year-old, knew in Mr. Schesta's garden grew the solution.

Sitting on the sidewalk, sucking on the purple fruit, I saw with horror lines of color on my once white shoes. Nancy, never nonplussed, smiled, and took me to the washroom to see that all would be well. A quick rinse, then the smallest amount of toothpaste on a new brush (I would take no chances), my shoes were soon wiped clean, whiter than when the morning began.

Nancy and I sat, and talked about oranges, until Mr. Schesta himself walked across the street. With three bags, and a grin, he handed us each a batch of grapes. "These will be better than the first," he said, then sitting with us, while we three talked more about oranges. He likes Valencias.

When in a jam, and grape juice threatens your summer, try Colgate's toothpaste.

--Brockeim