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MY FAIR PROSTATE..(In The Tune Of "I Could Have Danced All Night" 2 Replies

I could have peed all nightor block the urge and fight.I chose to stay in bed.I've totally stained my sheetsworse than a jar of beetsand now I'm soaked instead. I've got my wife all agitatedand my…Continue

Started by Mark Joel Lane. Last reply by luvy1950 Jul 22, 2013.

I'm Back 2 Replies

been on the road  againhope you are all having great  vacations and summer…Continue

Started by Julia A Knaake. Last reply by Julia A Knaake Jun 27, 2013.

Flowers blooming in your yard

Clematis outside the wall by my…Continue

Started by Julia A Knaake May 21, 2013.

Family Reunions 12 Replies

I haven't gone to a…Continue

Started by Julia A Knaake. Last reply by Lynn A McNeill Apr 18, 2013.

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Comment by Aggie on June 30, 2018 at 3:07pm

I am keeping the lights on!

Comment by Aggie on June 27, 2018 at 7:10am

Friends

Comment by Julia A Knaake on June 26, 2018 at 11:44am

Fruit Roll-Ups ~ Old as the Hills
I remember these fruit leathers

when I lived in the Syrian and

Lebanese section of town

on quaint Mulberry Street

with rows of neat homes

in old section Toledo, Ohio.

As a teen my Mother would

send me to Mrs. Haddad

to buy Syrian flat bread and pita

bread if she made it that day.

I also remember her kitchen

was so pristine white.

Mrs. Haddad, dressed in a

medium length black dress

with pearls around her neck

and high heeled shoes

was always covered in

a crisp clean colorful apron.

I waited for her to wrap

the bread I purchased

and often she would send

home fruit leather with me

for my Mother to cook

with a little water turning

it into the most wonderful

spoon jam to go with the pita

toasted the next morning

with a cup of thick black coffee.

Apricot and fig fruits

being my most favorite.

©Julia A Knaake

Comment by Julia A Knaake on June 26, 2018 at 11:37am

A Frisson of Terror (continued )

by the sound of a knock at the door.

“Isabella! Isabella! Open the door.” said a man's voice. In a moment of intense excitement she let out a blood curdling scream! “Isabella! Isabella! Open the door.” said a man's voice again. “No. you go away. I do not know you. Now go away before I kill you.” screamed Isabela. A noise in her kitchen froze her to the spot. Such a clatter. Pots and pans along with the metal dust pan fell on the kitchen tile. A piercing scream came from the kitchen. “Isabella! Isabella! Open the door.” said a man's voice again. Valentina was now at the door saying: “Please let my nephew, Georgio inside. He will come to your rescue. He is about to break down the door.” Isabela went to open the door. The sounds from the kitchen seemed like they were right next to her. She was in a frisson of terror. With the pounding on the door and Valentina calling her she got her senses back enough to open the door. As she opened, Georgio, a handsome hunk of hairy muscular man gathered her into his strong arms. Valentina, dressed in her boldly colored caftan asked:

“ Did you find the kitty? I brought him up here while you were shopping. He is only on loan until we get that pesky mouse in your kitchen. I opened the window just a little so he would not smell up your apartment.”

By now Isabella and Georgio were staring into each others eyes.

Valentina was pleased at what she view between the two young adults and sweetly started singing:

Che bella cosa na jurnata 'e sole,

n'aria serena doppo na tempesta!

Pe' ll'aria fresca pare già na festa...

Che bella cosa na jurnata 'e sole.

Ma n'atu sole

cchiù bello, oje ne'.

O sole mio

sta 'nfronte a te!

O sole

O sole mio

sta 'nfronte a te!

sta 'nfronte a te!

Quanno fa notte e 'o sole se ne scenne,

me vene quase 'na malincunia;

sotto 'a fenesta toia restarria

quanno fa notte e 'o sole se ne scenne.

Ma n'atu sole

cchiù bello, oje ne'.

O sole mio

sta 'nfronte a te!

O sole

O sole mio

sta 'nfronte a te!

sta 'nfronte a te!

©Julia A Knaake

Comment by Julia A Knaake on June 26, 2018 at 11:35am

                               

A Frisson of Terror

Isabella felt a sensation of coldness on her shivering skin.

Looking in the mirror she saw pallor in her skin. Her normal

olive skin looked like freshly falling snow. She felt a tingle of

a cold sharp slap in the room. Quivering she walked slowly

to the window. The thin curtains floated in and out the bottom

of the window. She was quite sure the window had been closed,

wondering how it had been opened. Was it opened by another person?

She looked around her rooms to see if anything else was disturbed.

It was twilight outside. The streetlights were coming on one by

one creating more shadows. Moving behind the draperies, covering the thin curtains she backed towards the overhead light. Checking to see if her

door was locked and bolted she then turned off the light. Peering

at the lock on the antique window Isabella saw it had been opened.

She closed the latch then started to shake with a rapid, tremulous

movement! Her mind told her she had locked the window that morning.

Perhaps Valentina, her landlady, had come into the apartment while

she was shopping. Isabella had allowed Valentina to enter anytime

she needed as she was quite comfortable in trusting her like a mother. Valentina was bold and exotic and treated Isabella as

her own child. Feeling a sudden sensation of pleasure and delight

Isabella went to the kitchen to see if any one had been inside. Valentina often left her a little tin or box

with some sweets. Looking around she did not see anything new. Opening her refrigerator she was looking to see if Valentina might have placed some pudding or a bowl of fruit inside to keep cool. No, no goodies were there.

While in the kitchen she heard a hoarse guttural sound. A throaty

hoarse sound. The hairs on the back of her neck felt as though they standing up. Isabella started to shiver convulsively, from fear. Her imagination went into a rampant uncontrolled vision of pictures in her head with visions of what might, could or possibly be in her apartment to pounce on her.

Shaking and trembling she tried to scream. Her scream was suppressed

©Julia A Knaake

Comment by Julia A Knaake on October 1, 2013 at 2:32pm

Comment by Julia A Knaake on October 1, 2013 at 2:31pm

Comment by Julia A Knaake on April 22, 2013 at 1:16pm

Comment by Julia A Knaake on April 22, 2013 at 1:15pm

Comment by Julia A Knaake on April 20, 2013 at 8:14am

The lady that owns this cat calls her Ricky

but

I call her Norma Jean

Norma Jean visits me every day

but

will go to owner only for food

 

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