Other Food

Don't ever change, Leaka!

Ya think?


Yep, I know where that one is, Leaka, it's over by Folsom Blvd, between Olson and Zinfindel. I live about 5 miles from there.

Hope you have a nice time on your date. Decided which movie you'll see? There's a new Tom Hanks/Julia Roberts film out that is supposed to be very good. There's a very nice In and Out Burger place there on Sunset too, if you're looking for a place to get a quick meal before the movie.

And, if you're looking for an excuse to ask her out on a second date, there's a great Greek restaurant over on University Avenue in Sacramento called The Greek Village Inn Restaurant. It's near Fair Oaks Blvd and Howe. It has several good reviews.

I was thinking the same thing

Me too

Same here from auntie jes.

The proud Aunties... What a perfect description.

I hope Butrfly likes coffee. I can see her being there every morning to keep an eye on things while hiding behind a newspaper or pretending to be busy on her laptop.

(Big batch of Greek pasta being made here this weekend, too. Sounds delicious!)

Aunties I need your help with something. I feel as if I'm being disrespected.
Asherman keeps on telling that I have know style or something. This time he rewrote my story to make it "better".
What he seems not to understand is that people have their own style of writing.
I've never like starting my stories off:
Mariot walked into the cold winter quickly dashing towards the car.
Its to simplistic. Not only that, but I don't like giving the name out to soon. Its like Mariot is been slapped into your face.
I would normally say:
The door was opened casually by a tall fair skinned woman. She wore a pencil skirt and low black pumps. The winter air was biting and she quickly dashed for her silver car.
One of her neighbors noticed her easily and waved to her. Even in the quick cold she waved back. For every neighbor knew her by the woman named Mariot.

Thats my style. But Asherman doesn't seem to understand he seems to thick headed about it.
Not only that, in my story they leave the wife to grieve and kill herself.
Also in the story that you may or not help me Bill would never tie up "family".

So can you please help me.
http://www.able2know.org/forums/about108786.html

Oh yeah, I wouldn't plan on changing.

Why do you post your writings if you don't what critiques?

No no no.
Thats not what I mean. I meant that I felt that my story was disrespected.
You don't rewrite someones story and tell them this how its suppose to be written.
It doesn't seem like he cares for the writers own style. Plus that, but when I put my first story down he told me it sucked because I had to many grammars mistakes.

All I want is someone to help with my grammar not rewrite and tell me its better this way.

You critique others in that forum cheerfully enough, Leaka - if I remember correctly, and I think I do.
It's more usual to discuss things like this on the thread in question.

Well I think that when you critique someone you should say something like:
Its good, but you need a little work on the spelling and grammar.
Then you quote a selection
quote:
Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah.
After you do that you correct the spelling and grammar in bold.
And say something keep working on it and it soon will turn out really good.

See what I didn't like about my story being rewritten is that I used the words Blah blah blah.
And they used the tadah tadah tadah.
I hope that clears that up a little.

He changed the whole entire meaning of the story. Bill and Alex would never kill a woman. Bill and Alex let the woman grieve.
The woman killed herself.
They also wouldn't tie up family members as I have said before.
And of course I like to start off my stories like a movie emotion or setting first.
Then character placed in setting.
Sounds much more fluent.

You can do what you like with your own threads...
But I would suggest you consider copying what you've written here and posting it on the thread you are speaking about.
It would invite more dialog to happen where you want the dialog to happen.

Okay, is that how dialog is spelled, it doesn't look right...

dialogue.

Thanks, Kicky!

I need to practice that...
dialogue
dialogue
dialogue

You're welcome. There are many words like it.

Monologue...dialogue...travelogue...squeezoutalogue...

kicky, do you eat a lot of salt?

It would turn your organ to stone you know.

(You mean like this.)

Ornaments

Its a general Christmas day. The neighbor out shoveling the thick white snow after a long Christmas morning of the family opening their Christmas place. It also seemed like this Christmas had been a lot colder then any other day. Mariot stood on the front porch of the house.
She had just gotten up and she had a warm glass of hot coffee in her hands. She sighed her hot breath rose up into the sky. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and pink pajamas. Pink is her favorite color. Her stomach elegantly gutted out for she was 4 months with child.
"Merry Christmas," said a familiar voice.
She turned around to her husband in his twenties. With a clean shave face and curly black hair.
"Merry Christmas," Mariot said.
Mariot walked back inside with her husband. They were a very happy family and they couldn't wait to celebrate Christmas with their child someday.

Mariot saw the clutter of lined paper and pens on the wooden oak table decorated for the season with a candy cane table cloth. The papers were from last night they were planning on names for their child. What the child were to wear and what they were going to do for the nursery?
Mariot smiled for she was happy with the outcome. They weren't going to make the same mistake as other parents. Blue for boys and pink for girls. They were going to go for a more standard color that would be good for both sexes.
They wanted this birth to be a surprise.

Her husband walked in the kitchen and smiled at her. He kissed her on the cheek gently. He smelled of clone and she wanted to keep him close. She noticed her husband had already clothed himself.
He wore a t-shirt, In this weather, and blue jeans.
"I'm going to be right back Allan I have to change," she said.
She gently dashed up the stairs and walked into the master bedroom. The oak bed and Christmas color bed sheets were made nicely. She opened the white closet and picked out a black long sleeve dress.
"Perfect," she said.
She gently took of her pajamas. Almost as if cold winter wind had embraced her. She put on the dress and began her way downstairs.
She then stopped and looked to the nursery. She smiled and rubbed her belly.
"This will be your room," she said.

She went downstairs and began to make some lunch for her and her husband. She decided to use some of the leftover ham to make them some sandwiches.
"Hun I'm going make sandwiches," she said.
"All right Mariot,"
As Mariot began to make sandwiches she heard the doorbell ring. Mariot went to answer it, after all it is her job.
She opened the door to see a grubby man with a western hat on. He smelled heavily of alcohol . He wore a black t-shirt and some blue jeans. Over his t-shirt he wore a jean jacket.
He had western boots with spurs on it.
"Hello their lady," he said in his Western accent.

"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm family I'm your uncle Bill and this is your cousin Alex," he said.
Even the mans breath smelled of alcohol and smokes. She saw the young boy who she didn't see behind beside the man since his larger stomach hid the boy so well.
The boy didn't seem to old, probably fifteen, he wore a black t-shirt and a black sweater over it.
The boy wore converse and looked your average teenager.
"I think you have the wrong house," she said about to close the door.
"What do you say?" the man asked blocking her way.
"You may have the wrong house," she said.

The man pushed himself in the house and shut the door. She now realized the boy had a box of ornaments.
"Put those ornaments on the tree," he ordered her.
"I'm calling the police," Mariot said.
Allan finally walked in because of the commotion. He seemed a little startled for he didn't know these men standing in front of his front entrance.
"Who are you?" Allan asked.
"Allan call the police they broke in!" Mariot said frantic.

For being so large Bill moved quickly like a lion or cheetah. He grabbed Allan.
"Listen hear buddy you ain't calling no police you going to sit down and you are going to give my son the best Christmas he ever had," Bill said.
"I don't follow threats," Allan said.
Bill grabbed Allan and picked him up in the air. Mariot began to freak out he wasn't going to kill Allan. Bill placed him firmly on the sofa.
"All I'm asking is for a Christmas for my son a good one," Bill said.
"Fine if thats all," Allan said.
Mariot looked at her husband wide eyed. And Allan shook his head and Mariot agree if this man wasn't going to hurt them then they were fine.
Mariot grabbed the ornament box. She opened up the box to see many different kinds of sewn voodoo dolls.

"Now we can sing Christmas carols ain't that right Alex," said Bill.
"Right dad," Alex said his accent not as thick and slather on like his fathers.
The day went by so fast that Mariot didn't realize that it is evening. She looked at the time 6o'clock. And she didn't seem to be having a bad time either.
Bill actually was quite hospitable then what she thought. Bill told Mariot about the story about how Alex doesn't talk much after his mother died. And how his wife died.

"Last but not least a Christmas feast," Bill said taking out a knife.
He handed Mariot the knife.
"Well hunt down the wild beast," Bill said.
"I have ham in the refrigerator,"
All the sudden Bill and Alex both laughed like maniacs.
"We don't want ham girl," Bill said.
"We want the man," Alex finished.
Mariot immediately understood.She couldn't kill her husband. She dashed for the phone, but Bill caught her by the hair and sat her down.
"I'll cook don't have to be in a hurry to cook for us since you've been a nice hostess," Bill said.

They had been in the kitchen for some time. At first she heard the screams and death cry of Allan. Then she smelled herbs and the cooking of flesh it made her sick.
Finally they came out with a giant feast. And in the middle of the dinner table her husband laid looking at her and tied like a pig. His blank eyeless face looked at her.
She began to cry.

"Don't be overjoyed by my cooking," Bill said with a toothless smile.
That night they ate Allan. Mariot didn't know who was going to be next.
"Well its time to collect our things," Bill said cheerfully.
Bill walked out the door after collecting all the stuff.
"Yes bye the way Merry Christmas," Bill said, "And thanks for the meal."

They left Mariot to cry by herself. And later the porch stained in her own sauce.

No, that's not what I meant.

*Sigh*

Oh well I don't understand then because I already posted the link to the thread that I posted it on.
I'm confused now.

Leaka, I think I'd like to try to make this cake. Can you help me a bit more, please? I've edited your previous post to include the extra directions you've given but there are still a couple ???



How's that?