tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45857317650061244862025-08-04T11:43:27.639-04:00that Exclamation Point womanWren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-90861872890265539892013-07-12T14:14:00.000-04:002013-07-12T14:14:29.574-04:00

Today, after a very long while (exactly two weeks and maybe two or three days), the handsome-man was back. (That is all one word. Handsome-man.) I am threatening to march over to his table and leave my business card on it. Which, to be sure, since I can't even manage eating when he is sitting at the next row across from me, up one table, is not exactly something I would ever be able to do.

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-29946291071804786082013-06-30T11:55:00.000-04:002013-06-30T11:55:40.616-04:00

Back to boredom. Boredom reveals. Terrible fear in me—I hide behind other portions of my identity because stories (which are truth, and the way people impact one another—read a very interesting article yesterday on that idea)—because the stories of my life are so severe that I cannot go there. They are stories of loss. But they have the power to hurt others. And to let people in. I don't

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-64379553010102969532013-05-28T14:07:00.002-04:002013-06-15T18:48:14.770-04:00

The lazy blogger had a lovely, lazy holiday. Saturday, doing Big Stuff by participating in the March against Monsanto, which headed out of Piedmont Park in Atlanta to march along a section of the BeltLine. The Atlanta Jazz Festival was in gear, with lots of stalls selling delectables, from eats to drinks to tie-died and lushly curved and curling dresses waiting like doughtnuts slathered

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-20244237896418628652013-04-29T10:58:00.000-04:002013-06-17T09:54:11.449-04:00

Not just cornbread in a cast iron pan—but a heart! And perfectly centered. Back in the day, starting out, a new bride needed the set of three iron skillets. You had to learn seasoning, which was pretty troublesome. Long years later, a cousin would tell me he threw his skillets in the dishwasher. I was stunned. But the seasoning... He just laughed. He'd season them all over again. My idea

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-14926454665849303912013-03-03T17:19:00.000-05:002013-06-30T08:39:29.824-04:00

Hamburger up at Five Guys (a franchise, too, but not so bad) today was delicious. I had Cajun fries (they use different potatoes each day and put which ones they are using up on the board)—and I sat at the table eating peanuts while I waited and kept thinking about what an old Southern snack they were. And how hot it used to be in the back roads of the Chattahoochee Valley... Back in those

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-88225427647199708112013-03-03T11:15:00.001-05:002013-06-15T18:45:11.214-04:00

A perfect morning should almost always begin with oatmeal. Not the one minute kind. And it should have dried cranberries one day, and raisens another, and always either walnuts or almonds. Pecans are too expensive to even dream, and I live in Georgia: pecans are backyard trees, here! Sometimes, perhaps, apricot or dates. And blueberries! Must not forget blueberries, and deliciously dried

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-87836611283608279892013-02-22T09:16:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:45:36.540-04:00

-1- I have been enjoying these at another blog for several years and am going to jump in and see what happens. This is my 'fun' blog. My 'girl' blog. That other voice place. -2- Apple dumplings. I have been thinking about apple dumplings. Or maybe not. I have been thinking about those delectable concoctions that are a baked apple wrapped up in pastry. The hospital cafe (where I frequently

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-37278821764407437932013-02-09T17:40:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:45:57.012-04:00

Headed out at ten this morning to get a jump on my 'out in the city' day. I am desperately needing new shoes (a whole wardrobe of them, actually, although, for the present moment, my last and only remaining pair of heels having bitten the dust, I have to replace them immediately), hence the day blocked out to accomodate all via the really early start. I began with the new-to-me thrift store.

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-77509982081324986022013-02-02T15:26:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:49:45.336-04:00

Will be posting about this most delicious repast sometime, I hope, tomorrow, and will include the recipe. (Didn't dare use the new placemat or napkin with its gorgeous flower ring because I was afraid I'd get it dirty, silly me.) Click on the photograph to see it full size scrumptious. Angel hair pasta, eggplant, garlic, olives, fresh plum tomatoes and, oddly, no onion. So I seared the

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-78322175855696462732013-01-26T17:06:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:46:33.035-04:00

I am currently at this very minute nibbling the absolute finally! last of an item left over from a recipe (when you live alone, all your recipes seem to dribble out into forever) fixed several days back (second time have tried it now) and combined with the most wretched eyeing of several other refrigerator squats. As a category for food, I loathe leftovers. Some there are that are still

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-92160781546850559562013-01-20T18:09:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:50:38.332-04:00

Yesterday, after writing at length in my journal about a matter to be set in as a post at another blog, I headed out into the city. I needed to shop for some items I will be using in conjunction with this blog. On the city transit, to go out for any reason is a full day endeavor, but with the holiday, I had a three-day weekend, which, in theory, gave me two days yet to write. So

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-77028576340032987742013-01-08T10:22:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:47:21.522-04:00

Because I really don't know where this one is going... But it started, really, with the Psalm, and the hope at another of my blogs to create a space for some of my work that had been published at still another blog... And then the background came up. Suddenly. It was there. One of Isobel's photographs, and I knew it had to be the background for a blog. I had to create a blog,

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4585731765006124486.post-62345664682975268102013-01-05T23:46:00.000-05:002013-06-15T18:47:40.613-04:00

the small thought to beginning

Wren Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01869934587126626360noreply@blogger.com0