From the mind of a mild mannered maniac

RED LIGHT

REDLIGHTbcl

The red seemed permanent, I rapped anxiously on my steering wheel, and glared at the traffic light  in as intimidating a manner as was humanly possible. Staring hadn’t worked either, I’d blinked over a dozen times and yet still the angry crimson orb peered, back at me, as constant as the throbbing in my brain.

Several car horns , repeatedly voiced their opinion of our current predicament, but mine did not join the chorus. It was with me at the front of the line,

I was so tempted to abandon my little Corolla, and walk home; I probably would have, too, if I hadn’t just made the final payment on her, two weeks earlier, and if home wasn’t, at least, twenty-three kilometers away, of course.

With so few vehicles approaching from any of the three, alternative directions the other temptation was to jump the light and get on with my day. Why didn’t I ? That is a great question, I am glad you asked it in so timely a fashion.

Not twenty feet from where I waited, with rapidly dwindling patience, sat a Vancouver City police car. It was unoccupied, but I somehow sensed that it’s driver was, even as we speak, scrutinizing this scene from his window seat in Madison’s Cafe.

I wondered how long he could possibly leave it before he intervened, and ushered us dutifully through the intersection. A new city ordinance against the use of a cell phone whilst behind the wheel of a running motor vehicle was, for the moment, preventing me from summoning  himself, or one of his colleagues.

A few cars were, now, performing illegal u-turns; Others were zipping past me, in the inside lane, and turning right. I counted to twenty a half a dozen times, but still I waited, and still I stared at that, confounded, red light! It would have been so simple to break that law, many others would have, of that I am sure. Curse my parents for raising a lily-livered, law-abiding citizen!

I turned on the radio, half expecting to be mentioned, on the traffic report.  Speaking of traffic, it was backed up, behind me, by now, for several city blocks at least. People were hollering, horns were blaring and my head was pounding like a thousand Ringo Starrs. I rested my right hand on the hand-brake lever, and sat poised with one foot hovering over the clutch, and the other by the throttle. My patience was at an end.  I was all set to break the law!

The guy behind me finally lost it, he yelled at my rear-view mirror while waving his up-raised fist in some sort of unfriendly salute. His big-block Chevy engine roared angrily, clearly in tune with its agitated owner, and his vehicle pulled out and around mine in an, impressively, aggressive leap.  As his head drew even with my passenger-side window, he glowered at me and I clearly remember the throbbing vein, dancing away on his glistening forehead; well that, and then as the Chevy accelerated into the intersection, the squeal of protesting tires and brakes, and the gut-wrenching  explosion as two perfectly good vehicles became one mass of smoking rubble.

copyrightCopyright 2014 – Clifton J. Lewis

Mind Weave

   

Hello my friends!

It has been entirely too long since I posted anything, herein.

Please accept my apologies :(

Failing that, perhaps you could try to keep your hatred to a bare minimum. This is in light of the fact, that……. The author possesses a rather delicate sensibility ;)

I find I have become more and more distracted by all those little nonentities, such as living, these days. Oh the shame of it all! Well anyway, I shall hasten to taste of the communal waters very shortly, I am really, really hungry, and looking forward to reading all of your wonderful blogs!)

Love to all,

~CLIFFY

 

 


MIND WEAVE

 

(Inspiration lurks in the strangest of places)

by Cliff Lewis

thestar.com

URBAN SPRAWL CANADA   thestar.com

urban_sprawl_cart

URBAN SPRAWLING Blogspot.com

I Wonder…Is it possible to be in two places at the exact-same instant?

Can the human brain enable us to witness events that are miles apart and light years removed?

It feels that way, to me sometimes.

I was walking through a rural park, not, so, very far from home, a few days ago. I paused to rest on a wooden bench, and as I watched the people and their pets passing by, I had the distinct impression of being in a far different place.

Somehow, the tree lined avenues and the wood-chip-laden playground with its joyful young inhabitants, had morphed, in very convincing style, into something else.

The twittering birds, chattering chipmunks, and scampering squirrels were all gone; replaced by the hustling, bustle of a metropolitan, city. They became the growling of traffic, the honking of impatient car horns, and the howling of sirens.

That beautiful pastoral scene was no longer in evidence.

It wasn’t a distant memory, I believe, nor a trick of the imagination. Although, what other satisfactory, explanation remains? 
The sights, sounds, and all of my other sensations, taste, touch and emotional response, seemed very real.

I watched in fascination, and then in immense sadness as trees and swing-sets, mountains, meadows and streams became skyscrapers, hydrants, and all the Accouterments of urban sprawl. A veritable concrete jungle, as it were.

I don’t deal with change very well, that much I will admit, albeit, reluctantly. This is Particularly when the changes involved are neither a necessity nor an improvement of significant value.

A burly young man raced bombastically from a convenience store, closely pursued by a red-faced merchant; The latter, wielding a well-weathered baseball bat. 
The young hoodlum was fast, but the storekeeper’s batting hand was faster still.
As the kid lay sobbing on the concrete pavement, the scene dissolved, and I found myself staring, incredulously, as, in the playground, a concerned Nanny knelt over her sobbing, charge, . She was.tending to his scraped knee.

I arose from my bench, and, for a long moment, took in my, peaceful surroundings.

Life was good.

I inhaled the sweet, fragrant air and , with a sigh of contentment continued on my way.

 

 

Letting Go

sadness

I  pine for you, my love,
Oh how I pine! 

I have known your world,  now my only world is you

I can’t hold you
yet I feel as if you’re with me
guiding me the way you used to do

Some far off day, ,
will find us reunited
Should  fate,
decree that  it  be so.

Yet in  darkest night, 

 as I mourn,  and hide in memories

letting go, is the hardest thing to do

 

 

 

Posted from WordPress for Android


image

Back in baking school, many moons ago, I was asked to come up with an original Christmas cookie recipe. I decided to take the traditional sugar cookie idea, tweak it a bit and give it a festive spin. Since then it has become a Lewis family tradition, and not just at Christmastime.

Cliff’s Almond Wreath Cookies

image

Ingredients:
(To make approx. 2 1/2 dozen)

All-purpose flour  – 2 Cups
Ground Almonds  – 1/4 Cup
Granulated Sugar – 1 Cup
Butter (unsalted)   – 1 Cup
Large Egg            –  1
Table Salt            – 1 tsp.
Almond essence  – 1 tsp.
Almonds (Blanched & sliced) 1 100g package
(1 egg, 1 TBS sugar & 2 TBS water for glaze)

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375°F
2. For glaze, mix 1 egg with 1 TBS sugar & 1 TBS water, in a small bowl. Set aside
3. In a large bowl, combine sifted flour, ground almonds & salt. Set aside.
4.In a medium bowl, cream butter & sugar, then stir in 1 whisked egg and almond essence.
5. Make a well in the center of flour mixture and slowly stir in the creamed mixture until a  medium-soft dough forms.
6. Knead Slightly then roll into a ball. Place back in bowl, cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
7. Roll out on floured surface to a 1/8″ thickness, and stamp out dough with a smooth or flute edged 3″ round cookie cutter.
You can also cut out centers with a 1/2″ cutter if desired. (This will give your cookies more of a wreath-like appearance, but is totally optional.)
8. Place these on a cookie sheet at least 1/2″ apart. Brush with glaze and top with sliced almonds.
9. Bake in center of oven for 12 – 15 minutes, or until edges are a light golden color.
10. Let them set on pan for at least 5 minutes before transporting to cooling racks. Once cooled, your wreaths could be dusted lightly with confectioner’s sugar. (For a festive touch).
11. Enjoy ! :)

Posted from WordPress for Android

Coming Home

Read the rest of this entry »

My Right-Brain Rant

When I sit down to write, and I really start to slide over, into that fertile, right-brain territory, I can free myself of my earthly bonds, and constraints.

I slip away from all the mundane, day to day stuff, and escape into a whole new world full of dreams and possibilities. A place of my own creation, where the only limitatation is imagination.

Trouble arises though, when nosey old Left brain decides to crash the party. He is one heck of a party pooper! He marches in and starts demanding realism, credibility, common sense. All that boring stuff!

The other day I was off on a right-brain drift. It was great, ! I kid you not! The words were really flowing ,cascading onto the page like rapids over Niagra’s Falls!

Suddenly old lefty gets it into his side of the head to start editing.
There are some things you don’ t do in this life, you don’t tug on Superman’s cape and you don’t mess with  my words mid-stream like that.

“Get outta here,” I yelled, “You can do what ever you need to when I’m done here!”

He left in a huff, but by then I wasn’t in the mood anymore!

Don’t get me wrong, he is a handy dude to have around. I get him to do all my spell checking, proof reading, research, rewrites, fact checking and editing. When it comes to all that tedious crap, he’s a wiz!

A problem has arisen recently though, where lefty has been trying his hand at the creative stuff.
He is convinced that he is the second coming of Lord Byron! Can you believe it?
The trouble is that he is rubbish at it!

Yes, the verses are beautifully punctuated, and the spelling is spot-on, but the there is no flair, no feeling, and a totall lack of imagination. The waste basket is overflowing with his discarded attempts.

I really have to nip this one in the bud though. Writing is truly a division of labour between the pragmatic left and creative right side of the brain. I always try to let “Righty” fleshout a draft as fully as possible before “Lefty” comes in and tears it apart.
:)
I’m certain that this is something that all creative people, the world over, struggle with daily,

Thoughts?

Cheers,

Cliffy

Posted from WordPress for Android

And the winner is……

Originally posted on Green Embers:

Logo created by Dean! Click to check out his blog!

Congratulations Dean!

(I modified it slightly to be more square, I hope you don’t mind)

Also Cliff’s awesome entry I am using as the symbol for my review blog (with his permission of course). Thanks both for creating such awesome logos, it really was a tough choice!

Check out both artists’ blog!

Dean @ http://deanzdoodlez.com/

and

Cliff @ http://cliff445.wordpress.com/

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