Roadtrip: Flash Fiction.

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This post is comprised of a story I’d written for a Christian radio station writing contest. I’m pulling it out of the file for two reasons: First, I needed a post today. Second, I didn’t win. So, it was just hanging out there and needed to be seen.

These flash fiction pieces are not deeply edited. In fact, they’re usually pretty sparse. But it is worth every penny of your subscription fees. If you don’t agree, let me know and I’ll arrange a refund. You don’t have to memorize this intro, but don’t be surprised if you see it again soon: I have another story to deposit on this blog that’s from the same contest, different year.

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Roadtrip

In many ways it made perfect sense to wear the red shirt: it hid the blood stains.

An hour before, when Larry was trying to decide which shirt he was going to wear pie stains were the order of the day. White was out of the question. No other color offered anything except a long day of stain removal. Red it was.

The Fourth of July was the perfect day for a cherry pie-eating contest. Everything about it screamed patriotism, right down to the vanilla and blueberry ice cream cones that were on the menu for the crowd.

Larry had volunteered to help with the contest this past winter. His associates were over the top patriots with a joy in simple fun. Janessa baked the best cherry pie for miles around – they’d sampled them last week. Larry couldn’t so much as scoop ice cream without instructions, but he was the clean up man and he figured the red shirt would hide some of the damage from half-eaten cherry pies.

He left a bit early for the park, knowing the crowd would be huge. He’d have time to grab a cup of coffee on the way. He’d loaded an extra box of contractor trash bags into the bed of his truck and a couple of gallons of bleach. He was going to clean the stage properly and leave it cleaner than when they’d started.

Turning right onto Jefferson, Larry spotted the convenience store where his favorite clerk would have the coffee ready. He pulled in with a smile on his face. Hamid was a good kid, kept things ship shape and brewed a fresh pot every hour. Larry knew that ten after the hour was the perfect time to visit – the pot would be 2 minutes old or less.

As he reached for it, the door crashed open, catching Larry full in the face. He hit the sidewalk hard and only had a glimpse of a pair of khaki pants running toward the road. A moment later, the squeal of tires assaulted his ears.

Larry struggled to his feet and went into the store. “Hamid, what the heck is going on around here – that guy just knocked me over.” Silence as deep as the desert night greeted his words. The tang of cordite and fresh coffee assaulted his nose. The sight of Hamid sprawled in a pool of blood and hot coffee polluted his eyes.

Larry dropped down next to the young man and checked for a pulse. It was there, but with all that blood it wouldn’t be for long. Larry rolled Hamid over on his side and found the entry wound just above the third rib. Grabbing a handful of coffee filters from the counter, Larry stuffed them down on the wound and applied pressure. He tapped his blue-tooth and summoned the police and ambulance with the other hand.

Hamid’s eyes opened and he spoke just above a whisper. “Pastor Larry, I am glad you came. I have been robbed. They shot me.”

Larry cradled the young man in his arms and helped him sit up to ease his breathing. “It’s alright, Hamid, the ambulance is coming.”

“No, Pastor Larry, it will not be good. I have seen wounds like this in my country. I will die. Please let my parents know. Their number is in my phone.”

Larry began praying out loud that God would speed the ambulance on its way. Hamid put his hand on Larry’s forearm and said, “Your Jesus, will he take me now? Or is it too late?”

“It’s never too late, Hamid. All you have to do is ask Him to enter His kingdom. Ask that he forgives your sins. I can help with the words if you want.”

Hamid coughed and struggled to breathe “I have thought of this often. You are a good man and your Jesus loves me as I am, no? I ask, Jesus, take me as one of your children, like Pastor Larry says. I beg you forgive my sins. I have tried to be good but missed many prayers here. Forgive me. Bless my parents. And Pastor Larry.”

Larry could see that Hamid would not make it until the ambulance arrived. He held him close to his chest and said, “He accepts you, Hamid. You will see him very soon. I will call your mom and dad.“

No response came from Hamid as he burbled his final breaths. Less than 2 minutes after being shot, he went limp and blood ceased to weep through the coffee filters. Larry held the young man to his chest and silently prayed.

The doors blew open as police and firemen rushed in to take control. One of the cops grabbed Larry’s hand and helped him to his feet. The officer looked at his hand in disgust. “Man, you’re covered in blood.”

“I guess we’re all covered in His blood today. Seems like the red shirt was the perfect choice.”

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Microwave Memories.

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We purchased our first microwave in twenty years this past month. It marked the end of an era, and brought to mind the loss of a very good friend. Not the microwave, but it’s previous owner.

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Twenty five years ago my life was a complete shambles. There were medical issues we were facing and the stress and sadness was beyond belief. One of the very few bright spots in that era was the group I worked with on a daily basis. I was blessed to have some very considerate coworkers. One, who shared my office, was Michele. She always had a kind word of encouragement, brought me lunch (I was the one who stayed in the office, she roamed around) when I needed a lift, and had a killer smile that would bring me out of the hole I was in emotionally. She was funny, bright, beautiful, and always a bit annoyed when I brought in some treat to the office. She had been a swimmer in college and she blamed me for turning her into a Rubenesque red head long before Christina Hendricks graced the screen in Mad Men. She had slightly less will power than I did, and the two of us lived to see what bakery treat would be on the table most mornings. She really didn’t have to worry, she would have been beautiful at 350 pounds. As it was, she’d diet when the skirts got too tight. A worthy sacrifice to enjoy the cheesecake crowns on a regular basis.

Not terribly long before I left the company, she moved to the corporate office. It was a promotion and a welcome change of pace for her. Michele was essentially an introvert who’d tackled a sales job. I know how hard she struggled to do that job on a daily basis. She was a blue jeans girl in a skirt-and-hose environment. But each day she came to work, made her sales calls, and then headed out into the field to meet with clients. My job was to interview, test, and place the temporaries in the jobs she’d scared up for them.

It would be an understatement to say that my office was one fine team. We blew out our goals every year and a big part of that was Michele’s hard work, and Julie who came on board when Michele left. I cannot thank the two of them enough for the great work they did finding jobs for me to fill.

Back to the matter at hand – the microwave. When Michele transferred to corporate I asked her what she wanted for the office microwave she’d brought for all of us to use. A nominal sum was named and a few months later when I left I took the microwave with me. It has sat, for the past 20 years, on top of my refrigerator.

Low powered, a dorm-room appliance at best, it met our needs. We didn’t microwave all that often so it cut the time on cooking by enough of a margin that it hung around until the rotating platter finally gave up the ghost. It made a grinding noise for a week and then quit.

The new one is shiny, very powerful, and very digital. The old one was analog with a dial and two heat settings. But every time I turned it on to cook something I thought of my friend Michele and her kindness.

Michele died in a head-on collision eight years ago. The driver of the other vehicle was high on cocaine and opiates when he crossed the line and destroyed her vehicle. Her husband, a very nice man, was left with tragically disabling injuries. My friend Michele was gone in an instant because of someone else’s drug use.

Each time that little microwave hummed I thought of my sweet and kind friend who did so much to lift me up and encourage me during dark times. She blessed my life and made it better in so many ways. And that little “ding” when my dinner was heated was her ringing a bell in Heaven each time.

The new microwave might be more efficient, but it won’t replace the old one. I’ll still try to remember her every time I punch the buttons and turn the knob.

If you’re so inclined, say a prayer for her husband, Dana. He needs it much as I did long ago when I shared an office with her. We both miss her.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Sea Salt Eatery: A Review By A Guy Who Doesn’t Like Fish.

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That may not be completely accurate. I like Filet-O-Fish, Fish Sticks, and – well, I like shrimp, lobster, crabs, some of the fish you get when it’s properly prepared and calamari. Yes, calamari. Calamari is the food of the Gods and should be eaten at least thrice daily.

The whole deal.

The whole deal.

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We recently hit Sea Salt during the middle of the afternoon. Given the reviews on Yelp and other sites, it seemed that they were too popular to try during peak hours. On a lovely, but cool, May afternoon we ventured in to check out the cuisine.

Signage is about zero.

Signage is about zero.

The restaurant has a terrible website. Its signage is even worse. Then there’s the location: the middle of a public park in what probably was a picnic shelter with a kitchen at one point. None of that matters given the delicious food inside. The Minnesota hours work for locals, but if you’re from the coast, they close at 8 in the evening.

This is about it for signage.

This is about it for signage.

My wife and I started with the Calamari. THE.BEST.IN.YEARS. I haven’t had Calamari that good since I was last in Monterey, California. It was flavorful, not oily, crisp to chew, and came with a great sauce. The serving was extremely generous, and I will order nothing but Calamari the next time. We’re talking 9 out of 10 stars – it was a tad bit salty.

9 out of 10 stars - cut the salt and it's a 10.

9 out of 10 stars – cut the salt and it’s a 10.

The crab cake basket was the main reason we went for lunch – my wife loves crab cakes. She got the double (no such thing as too much crab for her. Keep catching them, Sig Hansen) portion which came with a crisp/dry cole slaw that was perfect for the meal. This wasn’t the best she’d ever had, but a solid 8 out of 10 stars. Worth the drive for Minnesotans who usually get their crab cakes from a box in the freezer section.

The garnish was delightful. Good sized cakes as well.

The garnish was delightful. Good sized cakes as well.

The chowder. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH! Crab and Corn. Peppery. Chunks of potato. Creamy. Delicious. More. 10 of 10.

Fantastic.

Fantastic.

But the thing that made me smile the most was the bread. They had little loaves of jalepeno corn bread with honey butter. I have pondered the worth of selling my soul for a lifetime supply of that stuff. Here it was and I could keep my faith. It was perfect. 10 of 10 stars. (seeing a trend?)

A bit heavy on the butter - I did that all by myself.

A bit heavy on the butter – I did that all by myself.

Interior. It’s nice in a very chrome/hipster sort of way. An impressive assortment of beers if you’re a drinker of said beverage. I don’t anymore, but the names all have good reputations locally. It more closely represents an indoor sidewalk cafe than a restaurant when you get right down to the nub of things. It fits the overall feel of the place, so it’s not out of context.

Lotsa brewskies to choose from here.

Lotsa brewskies to choose from here.

The staff. All pleasant and polite, and as far as looks go I fit right in with them. No tuxedos, not even coordinated T-shirts. The service was great and if you’re hung up on appearance you’re probably not eating at a building in the middle of a city park. The cooks know their stuff, and the food came out fast for having been made to order.

I have the same hat as the staff. Eclectic.

I have the same hat as the staff. Eclectic.

Would I go again? Absolutely. It’s on the list for afternoon lunches with my wife. I can only imagine how packed it is during the summer.

Price and quality went hand in hand, we spent about $55 with tip. Not bad. Very good, in fact.

Prices are reasonable, variety excellent.

Prices are reasonable, variety excellent.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Blood Orange Marmalade Recipe. Warning: Making Jam Is Like Smoking Crack.

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Right out of the chute, I’d like to say “Thank You.” You, my friends and regular readers, have voted to bring Tamara Jorell and your humble (that’s a lie) scribe into the top ten in the Faith 900 writers contest. Thank you for your kind attention to our requests. It is very much appreciated. I’ll let you know when the winners are selected.

Now, for the rest of our story.

Two years ago my friend Carol and I started making jam. It was fun. We already had the basic tools in each of our kitchens, just had to buy some supplies and we put up about thirty jars.

This year, we’re up to 149 jars and it’s not even canning season. The madness that is jam making has taken hold in my heart. I would like to share it with you and MWHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA watch you drift into that dead zone I live in every day. Shelves full of sweetened fruit preserves, specialized spoons, canning tools, and other implements of financial destruction.

Or, I’d like to share my love of a new hobby. It’s one of the above.

(One caution: the results of recipes like this vary quite a bit with the moisture content and flavor of the fruit you use. Assume, for a minute, that you have the same fruit as we did for that magic day. It will then turn out to be wonderful. If you blindly follow the recipe and your oranges are juicier, drier, or more tart, it may be something other than wonderful. You have been warned!)

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Let’s start with the needed stuff to do it right. By right, I mean without struggling with all the mess and horror of using non-specialized implements. The basic premise is that you will do batches of 50-80 jars of your product.

A really long wooden stirring spoon/paddle. It should reach at least 6 inches above the rim of your biggest pot. You don’t want your fingers near that mix when it’s boiling. The one I use is handmade and was a gift. But you’ll find them on the web. Mine has a large paddle surface and it allows me to keep scraping the bottom of the pan so nothing sticks.

A large ladle. One that will hold at least 1/4 of a pint. Again, make sure the handle is at least 6 inches longer than the depth of your pot.

24 quart pot with solid handles (Available at Sams Club for about $40.) That’s the shiny aluminum one on the right.

Needed pots

Needed pots

2 “Canning” pots. You can buy these at Walmart, Fleet Farm, and pretty much any place that sells canning supplies. The prices vary widely, but you can usually score them under $20 later in the season. I use two, because I hate waiting for stuff to cook.

A canning funnel and a jar holder. The funnel is designed for wide-mouth jars. It fits over the rim of the jar and gives you a guide to pouring in the mix for a good seal. It is so much easier than trying to ladle into the jar and then having to clean the rim to get a seal. The stainless ones look cool, but they transfer heat and you will be pouring 200+ degree jam through it 80 times. Plastic doesn’t transfer heat as well. I like plastic.

Gripper on the left, funnel on the right

Gripper on the left, funnel on the right


The can gripper is the only way to go when placing and extracting jars in boiling water. It is designed to grab wide-mouth jars, keep your little fingers out of the boiling water, and give a good grip on the jars.

The two items are each under $15, and can be used over and over. Money well spent.

Jars. I like the wide mouth jars. Easier to use in my opinion. Pick the brand you want, all are pretty similar. Just beware when you buy them on sites like Snaigs list that the price is often no deal and the rims may be chipped. Buy new, they’re about $9.00 for a dozen jars. That’s the 1/2 pint and pint sized jars. Just sterilize them before using them. I wash them all by hand the morning of the cook while the “brew” is coming up to temperature. I do not reuse the lids, but I do reuse the rings. Shop the web for lids and rings, the prices vary widely and there are great specials all the time. I will never have to buy a lid again, I’ve got about a five year supply laid in. Ask my wife.

Preliminaries are over, now for the recipe:

Orange marmalade, blood style

I like blood oranges. They are in season for only a few weeks each year. You can use regular oranges if you want, but I like the unique flavor of blood oranges.

Chop/tear/rip up 55 large blood oranges. Do NOT include the white part known as the pith.

Juice 6 very large lemons

Shred peel for 8 oranges (1/8 inch wide, 1 inch or less in length)
Shred peel for 2 lemons (1/8 inch wide, 1 inch or less in length)

3.5 liters of high-pulp orange juice

5 pounds of granulated sugar

10 pounds of honey

19 ounces of Pectin

MOST IMPORTANT POINT: Stir the mixture constantly. Never let it rest for more than two or three minutes or you risk burning the liquid on the bottom of the pot. I use a heat diffuser (Different than this one, but quite similar) on the burner to even the heat. But you must be ready to stir this mixture for up to four hours. Teamwork!

This is where we start.

This is where we start.

Easiest method is to quarter the oranges and remove the fruit with your fingers.

Easiest method is to quarter the oranges and remove the fruit with your fingers.

Take the peeled oranges and shred them. I put 2/3 of mine in a blender, and tore the rest up into gummy-bear sized bits.

It takes forever.

It takes forever.

Shred the peel using a knife or other kitchen implement. It should look like this:

Shredded peel

Shredded peel


Put the oranges, the juice of the lemons and oranges, and the shredded peel (both lemon and orange) in the pot. Start it out on medium to low heat.

Once the mix starts to heat a bit, add the orange juice.

Bring to a rolling boil and add honey. (I used Walker Farms Orange Blossom honey and Greek Honey. Use whatever flavors you like!)

Once this has boiled, test for sweetness. I included five pounds of sugar in the recipe because if your oranges and lemons are super tart you will need to keep adding sugar until it hits the taste point you seek. Ours were very bitter and required the whole bag. I know it’s a lot of sugar, but you’re making 70 1/2 pint jars of jam.

Bring it back to a boil and begin adding pectin until the consistency is correct. Generally it’s best to add a few ounces at a time and mix it in completely. Once the dribbles off the stirring spoon are globules versus a drizzle you’ve hit the magic spot. Some will put a spoon full of the mix on a frozen plate. If you can then turn the plate to the vertical and the marmalade doesn’t run, it’s the right consistency. It’s tough to judge, but thicker is better.

Once the mix is ready, turn the heat to low, or off. Using the ladle, constantly stir the mix so it stays consistent throughout the pot. Ladle the mix into the jars, using the funnel. Here’s how we set it up, and how the mix should fill the jar:

final before sealing

Gently place the lids on the jar and secure with the rings. Don’t tighten the ring all the way, leave a bit of play. When you put the jar in the boiling water bath you need to have it loose enough for air to escape from the jar.

Place the completed jar in the boiling water bath using the tongs. I set the water so that I can get three layers of cans in each pot. The trick is to gauge the depth: with each jar you add, the level comes up a bit toward the rim. If you get it just right, the top layer of jars will be 1-2 inches below the surface. The water must be at a fast boil when you add the jars. The jars will be hot, as you just put cooked jam in them. But they will be a bit cooler than the boiling water and so you have to keep the heat on the boiling pot the whole time.

Leave the jars in the boiling water for 15 minutes. This allows all the air to cook out, and when you remove the jar from the water the lid will be sealed in the ensuing vacuum. Set the jars on a table where they will be able to seal. Go back a few hours later and make sure all the jars are sealed. Tighten the rings down to hold the seal.

How do you know they were sealed in the process? Modern jar lids have an indentation on them that will pull down as the vacuum is applied. There is a satisfying “tink” noise as the lid is pulled down. You can also see it visually represented: if the dot is up, no seal. If the lid is flat it sealed.

Your jam should be good for up to a year. Some say marmalade is only good for 6 months. I probably won’t find out- it’s too good to last that long.

The recipe above made 70 jars of marmalade.

I hope you get as hooked as I am on this hobby. It’s not cheap, you can buy Smucker’s for less. But it won’t be yours and it won’t be nearly as good.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Friday Plea For Contest Votes

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I need your vote in a writing contest.

I need you to go and cast that vote right now.

Easy to do, takes under three minutes.

It’s the final days of the contest and if you wait until Monday it will be too late.

My link is on top, my colleague Tamara Jorell’s right below it. Please click the links below and vote for us before you move on to the next item on your daily agenda.

Winning this contest means lunch with a publisher and a chance to pitch our books. Thanks in advance, and thanks to all who have already voted.

A Walk In The Park by Joseph Courtemanche

Charlie by Tamara Jorell

Thanks, as well, to Faith 900 radio for the opportunity.