The Creative Idea

I read this book called How to have Kick-Ass Ideas by Chris Barez-Brown and was so enchanted by the notion of having creative thoughts that I read it again.  Then I waited.  And waited.  And waited...  What would my first kick-ass idea be?  Would it bring me wealth?  Fame?

No....as it turned out I won't be receiving wealth OR fame this time. Today, while I was in that twilight-time between sleeping and waking, I had my first kick-ass idea.

A small idea, yes, but it's a start

Turns out that merely putting a towel under the watermelon before I cut it is a practical solution to an annoying problem - thus qualifying it as a kick-ass idea!  The towel absorbs all the juice that normally would be running off the cutting board, over the counter, down the cabinets and finally pooling on the floor,  generating massive clean-up efforts. I will not miss wiping up that sticky mess.

It's so simple!  I wonder why I didn't think of this before?

Snakes

In the inky evening when the world is darkening rapidly, the last thing you should be doing is strolling down a street with no sidewalks, right?  I find myself in that very situation more than I'd like to admit and always regret my wardrobe choice - usually some version of khaki capris and a gray tee-shirt,  rendering me virtually invisible, especially to the five out of every seven drivers who are  talking on their cell phones.  (That number is 100% accurate.  I watched seven cars speed by and five drivers were on the phone, no joke.)  More likely than not, I am forced to jump into the English ivy to save myself even though I have  often been told that it's the Motel Six of the snake kingdom. 

Are snakes lurking in the ivy?

Just last week I was out walking with Mary Ann as twilight fell.  We were power-walking past a yard full of ivy when something (we couldn't see what) suddenly hissed loudly and jumped out at us.  Terror froze me to the spot!  In the heat of the moment I panicked and belted out a scream worthy of a horror movie.  In the same split second, I grabbed Mary Ann with both hands.  (I thought I heard a little sympathy yowl from her direction but I can't swear it wasn't because I was squeezing her too tightly.) 

In a flash, the man who owned the house came tearing outside to see what the

commotion was all about, no doubt envisioning carnage.  Instead, what he found was two screaming ladies standing in the puddle of water that his automatic sprinklers had made on the first squirt of their cycle.

Was my face red?  Was Mary Ann's arm bruised?  It would have been hard to tell because by now it was too dark to see.