This week’s prompt is Nine Loves. This was much easier than last week’s Ten Secrets. So, without further ado –
1. Drawing with ink. It’s forgivably unforgivable. It stretches my ability and makes me think. I still love pencil and eraser and I do my best work in that medium, but drawing in ink has made me a better artist. Ink forces me to incorporate my mistakes into the bigger picture. With pencil I can just pretend the mistakes never happened.
2. Music without lyrics. Especially while driving. I do all my best writing while driving and listening sans words. I could write the great American novel if I went out and got a job as a cross-country truck driver.
3. Pork skins. Especially the hot ones.
4. Scarves. Well, love is a strong word, but I’m developing a definite like for them.
5. The fact that Britney Spear’s name is an anagram of Presbyterians.
6. My preacher’s kids. As I sat in church one day and I observed one of my minister’s two teenage daughters do something very small and very nice for someone else. She didn’t know anyone was watching. It confirmed what I had suspected. They are good, good kids. I stalked them from two pews back and on Facebook as well as observing them from my couch as they stalked my house from the alley. Then I did something – a tiny little experiment in being spooky, for lack of a better term. They responded exactly as I would have when I was there age. They are little Spookies in the making, I think! I really, really, really like them.
7. Boots and peacock feathers. Not necessarily together. Not necessarily apart. And that peacock green/blue color? Love that too.
8. Fedoras. I need some new ones. I haven’t worn them in a long time, but I think I might start again. I blame that Maria Bello ad for her new Prime Suspect show. I might even take the one down from my office wall, dust it off and slap it up on my head.
9. Fiber. I’m sucking down the nasty stuff twice a day, just like grandma used to do. Donated blood last week and, according to the vampire’s testing, my cholesterol level has dropped to 195. Fiber is slightly icky, but it beats the hell out of taking yet another liver-killing medicine. (And yes, I know that being all excited over this makes me even older than the daily fiber-tang swilling ritual does. Right now, I’m ok with that.)