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Sue Spitulnik

Flash Fiction and personal thoughts

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football

By Candle Light – flash fiction

Michael sat on his back porch enjoying the created shadows and smell of citronella candles. He wore his number 10 football jersey from high school. It was a happy remembrance that still fit over his muscle-bound upper body. His favorite number had switched from 10 to 100; 100 days until the docs told him he was out of the woods after the bomb and 100 days to build the nerve to ask Tessa to come to his home. He would have 100 various sized candles burning to welcome her. He hoped the romantic scene would bring him his desire.

Written in response to Charli Mills May 21, 2020, prompt at Carrot Ranch Literary: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about 100 candles. What do they light, and why? Think about contrast or symbolism. Are the candles large, small, or stars in the night? Go where the prompt leads!

“Hoppy” or Not

I’ve never been a big fan of beer and the “hoppier” it is, the less I like it. Currently in western New York state craft breweries are appearing everywhere. They make beer with fruit, nuts, spices, coffee and chocolate. I haven’t developed a taste for those types of beer either. If I’m going to drink it, I want it to taste like a good old fashioned Bud. Quite honestly I couldn’t tell you the difference between an ale, a lager or an IPA. Continue reading ““Hoppy” or Not”

Share A Cold One

In my life, there are a lot of beer drinkers.  A greeting when we visit someone, or they visit our house, is, “Ya wann’ beer?”  Our second fridge in the garage has a few kinds of beer in it.  Some of the new exotic stuff for my daughter and good old-fashioned Budweiser for my husband.  My son has just switched to Miller, and to do away with gluten I have switched to hard cider.  There’s nothing better on a hot steamy day, than a cold refreshing long neck. (For you non beer drinkers, that term refers to the neck on the bottle.)

When my husband and I first started dating, he and his co-workers went our for Friday happy hour without fail.  Sometimes there were just six of us, other times there would be close to twenty.  I would start watching the clock at my job, waiting for the phone call to tell me where everyone was meeting.  That was fifteen years ago and I can still tell you some of the exact conversations that took place and what we laughed about.  The crowd dwindled when one of the young ladies got pregnant, a couple guys decided to loose weight, and others changed jobs. We miss those days, and the closeness of that group.  We have a reunion twice a year just to stay in touch.

We have some very close friends and relatives that have had the opportunity to travel Europe and parts of Asia.  The young men involved rate the countries according to how well they like the beer.  I haven’t heard much about food except the meals in Germany.

My grade school chum and I get together for lunch about every three weeks.  We don’t sit in a chain restaurant with a cup of coffee, we sit in a bar, eat chicken wings or burgers and drink beer.  Yes, there is now gluten-free beer.  We have a lot of laughs, we tell each other our secrets, new and old (which no one else can hear over the music) and we forget our responsibilities for awhile.  We talk about current events and the family members we have buried.  We’ve known each other a long time, she’s my best friend.

And don’t forget it’s football season.  Who in their right mind would watch a football game without a cold beer to go along with the snacks.  I know, a lot of people would, but generally not in my realm.  Go Bills!  (We never lose hope!)

Dedicated to Dack S.

I’m looking forward to football season, or should I say the start of the games that get the teams into the playoffs.  I don’t pay much attention to the pre-season games because I’ve heard they don’t make any difference and I’m not quite ready to admit summer is almost over.  I’m a watch from home person; I can’t get into spending twelve hours in a day to watch a four hour game. (That includes drive-time, tailgate time, the game, getting out of the parking lot and then driving home.)

My step-son went to the University of Kentucky.  While visiting him one fall over ten years ago, I went to my first tailgating party.  I expected hamburgers, hots and potato chips.  Silly me.  UK is a HUGE football college.  There was a big surprise  for me when we got to the parking lot.  It was full of RV’s with room size rugs laid in front of them, canopy tents, lawn chairs, full size gas grills, and coolers, larger than I had ever seen, full of beer, wine and food.  We ate different types of salads, grilled pork loin, vegetables and dip, and no chips.  WOW!  I don’t remember anything about the game.  Like I said we were visiting, so I only went once.

I have some very close friends that are Buffalo Bill’s season ticket holders.  I’ve asked on more than one occasion how they can party in the parking lot, then sit through four hours of game in 30 degree weather.  The answer is, “We dress for it!”  Okay, that makes sense.  Then I ask, “Doesn’t it get old when your team is in a slump?”  You should see the looks I get.  The wife says to me, “Who cares if the team wins or looses.  We go to tailgate.  We’ve been parking in the same lot for years and have made all sorts of friends from all over the place.  It’s the only time we see them.”  Now that makes sense to me.  The wife posts very interesting recipes on Facebook that she will try for the next tailgate.  Then she posts pictures of the ‘gang’ having fun.  They wear lots of Bills gear and everyone is laughing or smiling.  When there is an away game, the ones that are from here gather in the same local bar to watch together.  I guess I’m a little jealous I don’t have a group of friends like that.

Unfortunately the husband passed away two years ago on September 11.  His tailgating friends didn’t even know he had gotten sick just after season’s end the year before so it was a sorrowful shock to them.  This is how they paid tribute to their friend that weekend.  This is the hill behind the parking lot.

dack

The good part is the wife and adult daughter have been able to keep their season tickets.  I’ve already started seeing new recipes for this season and the daughter has a steady boyfriend to enjoy the fun with.

I know it’s been two years since the Patriot Guard escorted my friend to his final resting place, but it feels like yesterday.   GO BILLS!

I sewed every one of those patches on Dack’s vest.  I knew his trip schedule as well as his wife.

dack2

 

 

 

 

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