Kitchen Magic

First, I have to thank my dear buddy K. Since K is a smart college girl, she's kept her profile private so I won't link her. For those of ya'll who don't know K, she's a classy and cute college girl in the South who has more fashion sense than I've had...ever. She's like a real life Elle Woods--sweet, kind and loyal to her friends. I know we would be great buddies if we lived nearby!

But, since we don't, she gave me this:



The rules are:

1. Post the award on your blog.
2. Link me for giving it to you. (She's Life of a Southeren College Girl on my Blog Roll.)
3. Link the originating post here
4. Pass the award on to five more deserving people.
5. Post these rules for your recipients.

And now I get to give it to five of you.

The winners are....

1) Fellow writer Chocolate and Marmalade Tea

2) My good buddy Emma

3) Tea, Toast and a Book

4) Ingrid

5) Pumpkin and Spice

Congrats girls! And K, thanks again!

And now, for a story about whimsy in the place dear to many's hearts....the first part of Kitchen Magic.
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Bizzy leaned her head against her microwave and groaned.

"I am so stupid," she said aloud, whacking her head into the shiny plastic. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid."

Within a three minute phone call, she had agreed to host Thanksgiving at her tiny apartment. The entire Thanksgiving: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, green beans, rolls, pie--you name it, she was fixing it. But Bizzy had a tiny little problem.

She burned toast. She once exploded a can of beans during an unfortunate craving for Mexican food. And she turned Pop Tarts into Tart Slivers.

In less than a week, her six brothers, chemo-ailing grandmother, diabetic grandfather and overworked parents would be invading her one-bedroom apartment.

"Stupid," she repeated, just to cement that fact into her brain. "You are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

A knock peppered against the cheap wooden door. Dragging her feet across the ratty carpet, she opened the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

"Mrs. Patterson," she said, trying to force enthusiasm into her voice. "How are you doing?" She cracked her cheeks into a semblance of a smile.

"I'm good, dear." The older woman tried to peer past her. "Are you all right? I heard something banging."

"That was just me." Bizzy felt her cheeks warm and heard herself stuttering, "I was banging my head against the microwave." Nice, she thought to herself. Now she'll think your crazy.

"Why?" Mrs. Patterson cocked her head.

"I told my family I'd cook for all of them and I haven't cooked a thing in my life," Bizzy admitted. "I burn toast."

A smile spread over the older woman's face. "You know, my dear, you could do me an enormous favor," she cooed.

"Would you like me to water your plants?" Bizzy was worse with plants than her cooking, but Mrs. Patterson never seemed to connect the death of her plants to Bizzy's watch.

"No, no," Mrs. Patterson said, waving her hand. "Actually, you could stay in my family cabin up in the woods for the week and holidays. You see, normally I go there, but I have other plans. It has a fabulous kitchen and several rooms. Your family wouldn't have to get a hotel."

"Well," Bizzy hesitated. "That's very kind, but..."

"But what?" the woman questioned. "It would help me out so much. Please." Her wrinkly chin quivered and her large blue eyes blinked, looking more watery by the moment.

"All right," Bizzy sighed. "I guess it would help my family out, since they wouldn't have to pay for a room on such short notice."

The old woman cracked open her large yellow handbag and pulled out a brass key. "Thanks so much, dear," she cooed, beaming. "I'll see you later!" Clomping in her too large red heels, the older woman hobbled down the hall.



The next day, Bizzy packed her suitcase and drove out to the cabin in a rented car. The leaves were red and yellow, the air crisp and cool. For a fall day in the South, it was remarkably chilly. Creeping down a dirt road, she peered at the street signs. "Ah!" she cried, peering at the worn metal sign. "Lark Lane." She turned up the narrow path and drove up to a wooden cabin.

Two eyes watched from inside as she stopped the car and turned off the engine.

To be continued...

Tomorrow, we have a brand new Christmas children's story! Also, we have an ode to the most dreaded party ever, homemade chicken pot pie and a new Twirl and Miss Pickles! Stay tuned!