This Week in Photos and A Quote

Happy Saturday Night, Spatulans. I hope your week was wonderful. What were the highlights of your week? One of mine was this snippett of a conversation I gathered at a coffee shop across the street from my apartment.

"Are you stickin' around for a while? Would you like me to cut you a sliver of this? It's called 'Almond Passion'. We haven't officially introduced it yet."

What's something wonderful from your week? Could you use that wonderful bit or any image, sound, smell, quote from this past week in a short story?

Bypass Doom!

It must be "the end of the world" because S.Kemp is posting. Just kidding. Here is an old video to celebrate the "doom" that was "supposed" to be. Happy End of the World!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom: Molly Crabapple

"The closest one can be to honestly making magic is to keep one's word so obsessively that things spring into being by you saying them. Most people are just talk. If you REALLY climb the mountain/ write the book/ get your sister a job, you're so much ahead of the rest. And just for being the person who really climbs mountains/ writes books/ helps friends when they say they will, others will help you."

Molly Crabapple (Via twitter. Emphasis is my own.)

Welcome Back

I must thank Miss Lucy for giving me the idea for this. I had so been wanting to brings these guys back, but wasn't quite sure where to begin. But, thanks to an innocent little email conversation, I had the starting point. Isn't it funny, the things that can inspire us. Domo, Miss Lucy!

An Expected Trip

“So, whose body are you trying to move?”

Merle's Take

Hey All- After some coaxing from Clara and a swift kick in the pants from Gertrude I've written a bit of a treat. Remember my favorite punching bag, Seamus? Well, here's a new chapter...from the perspective of everyone's favorite cowboy grandpa: Merle.

Chapter 3.141414: Jackrabbits on Speed

If there was one thing I hated, it was tacky hotel rooms. Arthur always insisted on meeting in them. I gave up arguing about it with him long ago.

The walls were lined with velvet- a brocade pattern. Purple carpeting brought out the red in the wallpaper. The cracks on the ceiling were making obscene gesture. Only one light bulb worked in the fixture above the headboard. I could hear the sound of post-coital hissing of cockroaches in the yellow rimmed bathtub. As far as dingy, disgusting dive hotel rooms go- this one was pretty plush.

Rita's Part Twelve

Well, folks, this is it. Mickey's been up all night coming up with this plan. Can he pull it off?

This week's post is a bit wordy, but that's to be expected. I mean, one shouldn't mince words with a fearsome crime boss, right?

Part Twelve: Troll in the Dungeon


It was a richly appointed room. The dark wood and aged leather blended seamlessly with the deep red upholstery. Sitting in the middle of this sumptuous and stately room, in stark contrast to the ornately carved desk she was sitting behind, was a woman wearing a bright yellow dress and powder blue ribbons in her bouffant hair.

Mickey was momentarily astounded by the sight before him. The woman looked up when he entered the room and ran her heavily made up eyes over him a few times before smirking.

Well that just bytes...

Howdy folks-

I hate writing posts like this, just so you know.

My home computer is dead or dying. I'm going to have to sit down and try to fix it, or send if off to Mac for repairs. Or go Office Space on it. Haven't decided.

Regardless, things are going to be quiet on the Spatula tonight. I'm only able to post this from my work computer. (SHhhhh! Don't tell on me!) I hope you'll be able to forgive me. But seeing as how this is out of my hands, you have no choice but to still love me. ;)


Luff & Spatulas,

Lucy.

Rita's: Part Eleven

Wow, is it Tuesday already?

Well, folks, it looks like Mickey may have a plan, but he's not letting me in on the secret. And as soon as I know, you'll know.

Part Eleven: Don't Trust the Horse

There was a stunned silence as what had actually happened began to sink in. Lulu had a vise grip on Ianto’s arm, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stood transfixed, staring at the prone figure of the crime world’s most feared assassin.


The shock quickly wore off, however, and panic set it.

All Will Be Well

"The opposite of war isn't peace- it's creation." -- RENT

Where there is thunder there is surely lightning. Storms have been brewing and brambling through the south lands all week long. For the better part of the month we've been trying to shake off the red warnings on the radar and continue along as planned.

The bad part is that chaos, damage, and death serve as harsh reminders that nothing and no one is truly permanent. As the tornadoes have run rampant through this neck of the woods these reminders are constant and relentless. Like the storms themselves they always seem to be too close for comfort. One coworker lost most or all of his home last night. Another was miles from where a woman's body was found in the middle of the road where the winds had dropped her lifeless onto the pavement. Some people blame god, some people blame mankind, still some others blame themselves.

In the face of natural disasters there is no place for blame. There is only a place to pick up the pieces of what has been dismantled, twisted, or torn apart. It would be easy to point fingers. It's easiest to blame and accuse and to lash out. What's not easy is to sit down, tissues in one hand, glue gun in the other- and put the pieces back together bit by bit.

The good news- and there is always good news- is that just when you think it's all over those damn birds outside your window start to sing at three o'clock in the morning. The mail carrier actually shows up early so you look like an idiot when you put your netflix movie in the mailbox and it's still sitting there when you get home that evening. Some jerk cuts you off in traffic while you're running late to work. An ill tempered cohort makes a wise crack before you've gotten the blood out of your coffee stream. Finally life is blissful and normal and crazy and infuriating and beautiful. All. Over. Again.

The storm will pass.
And all will be well.
And all will be well.
And all manner of things will be well.
(I promise.)

Rita's: Part Ten

Hey look, everyone! It's Mickey! I told you he'd be back this week. And unless my muse is deceiving me, which she probably is, there might be a show down next week. Moo haha!

In the meantime, let's have a look at what Mickey and the gang have been doing while we've had our eye on Mimi.

Part Ten: Johnny on the Spot


Despite the chill in the air that evening, the tunnels were hot and stuffy. Lulu was cursing softly under her breath as each step shook loose years of dust and dirt. Mickey and Ianto were leading the way with lighters in hand.