The Presto-Pesto Magic Salmon

I once met a man who said he was absolutely lost without his wife of 30 some-odd years. He seemed like a friendly man with sparkling eyes and shoulder length grey hair. I remember a painful expression in his eyes, but an easy, casual laugh that kind of tied together what I thought of as a real catch for someone. My husband held my hand, while this man told us horrifying kitchen tales about not knowing his way around a toaster. Sadly, he poured out the details of his painful ordeal and it amounted to not being ready to meet another woman and most of all, wishing he knew how to cook. Hoping to create a little more sparkle in those twinkling eyes, I started to encourage him by telling him that cooking could actually be easy, with a few simple tricks. I told him that with this recipe for Bachelor Salmon he’d be able to invite anyone over for dinner.

Several months had passed, but the next time I saw this man he hurried up to us, gushing about how wonderful my recipe had been.  Smiling, he told me he had prepared it for someone special, who was very impressed and shyly he told us the two of them were now dating. Wow.

Anyway, while I can’t guarantee that this recipe changes your love life, I promise that it’s easy and delicious. I make it all the time and yes, I’ve impressed a few people myself with this super easy recipe. This is not for you Cordon Bleu graduates out there in cyber land, but maybe for a bachelor who needs a trick up his sleeve.

So hurry up and set the table…light the candles and get out a nice flat baking pan because dinner will be ready before you know it!

Bachelor/Bachelorette Salmon
1 large salmon filet
Bottled pesto sauce (you need at least a ¼ cup but can use more-depending how big the filet is)
Spread pesto on both sides of salmon ( I use a pastry brush, but the back of a spoon is fine)
Bake in 400-degree oven for 20 minutes. Viola!

Serve with salad and wine.  If you know how to make rosemary potatoes, those would make a nice additional side dish too.

Top Ten Ways To Tell You've Been Sitting At Your Computer Too Long

How to tell you’ve been
working at your computer too long.

1. Women: The hair on your legs is tickling your ankles.
     Men: Your beard is getting tangled between the "enter" and the “shift key”.

2. Your laundry is piled so high it’s about to fall over and certain pieces appear to be moving.

3. The man or woman who kissed you goodbye looks vaguely familiar.

4. You prefer eating meals that can’t harm your computer.

5. You don’t own a pencil sharpener--in fact, you’ve never even seen one.

6. You think the next big holiday is Christmas but the Fourth of July is next week.

7. Your kids are becoming grandparents but you’re still talking about their third grade parent-teacher conference.

8. You ran out of toilet paper and remember the story about people using merchandise catalogs at the turn of the century--so now you’ve resorted to using the first draft of your manuscript.

9. You think people who wear carpal tunnel braces on their wrists look cool.

10. You need two boxes of hair color.

Exposing Your Creativity!!! (A poem)

Creativity on Fire

You clean it off.
Sterilize.
Eliminate,
Fumigate.
Inoffensive.
Dry it off.
Changing.
Shoving it into the dark.
Zipping it shut.
Proceeding.

All day…
Heating up-
Burning.
Sitting uncomfortably--
Unable to breathe--
Scrunched.
Itching for freedom
Waiting.
To be exposed.

Finally.
Tearing,
Straining-
Unzipping-
Pulling,
Changing.
A cool rush-
Releasing-
Blossoming.
Natural-
Unbarred.

The long awaited sigh-
Bursts forth
Like a primal scream-
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh….




by Eve (The Desert Rocks)



What do you think? Should I re-name this
 Private Parts on a Hot Summer Day?
Now you’ll laugh if you re-read it.

Photographing the Author-A Short Story

This is what will happen to me if I don't hurry up and finish my manuscript! 
Literary Photo Session

and Book Signing at 100


Little white pieces of skin were flaking, or perhaps peeling off her wrinkled skin from years of exposure to the dry, desert air and wind that had endlessly battered her complexion, creating a frosty look that didn’t look cold, but reminded one of the sugary residue left from eating glazed donuts. The translucent white pieces contrasted with her tan skin, the blue eyes and the elegant but natural looking eyebrows that matched her beautiful thick, butter-colored hair. The air filled with microscopic bits of her when she turned to look out onto the porch, and though her matronly outfit looked elegant, the tiny white flakes from her skin had landed on her shoulders making her appear to have dandruff. Eagerly anticipating her priceless moment of fame, she tried assuaging the fears that were making her feel hot and uncomfortable in her specially assembled, cornflower, blue outfit.

Too bad he couldn’t be there with her, she thought, turning quickly toward the door upon hearing the photographer enter the room. It really was a shame. Smiling now, her home started filling up with inquisitive, staring eyes that belonged to those who didn’t know the whole story. The time had approached and she had to face these strangers with all her personal information, her pain, her joy and the complex reasons that made her decide to write the book in the first place.
   
A young woman dressed in khaki pants and a vest walked up to her to set a light meter, before returning to the photographer. The shades were drawn. Two lights and some reflecting shields were set up behind the old woman who gazed regally over the crowd.  She knew it would end like this. Continuing to smile, she waited patiently for the photographer to do his business.  Suddenly, the assistant ran up to her and gently brushed dry skin off her shoulder.

Another Sin-Yes, I know this is so last week

This is part of a 100 word writing challenge that was last week.

7 days, 7 sins in  100 words. Is being late a sin?

Lust


Walking into the biker bar she saw the well-built stranger leaning against the bar with his head staring up at the television. What a body, she thought, taking in the worn tee shirt, huge scuffed boots, the sculpted arms and the faded, perfectly fitting jeans that hugged his derriere. “Turn around,” she said to herself after ordering a beer, “tonight’s the night, baby.” Still he focused on the television.
Feeling lucky, she  finally summoned her courage to walk up and tap him on the shoulder, when he turned around and smiled.
Problem. It wasn't a guy.

Am I Too Late For Sinning?

Thou Shalt Not Lie.
Wait that’s one of the Ten Commandments not one of the Seven Deadly Sins.
I did promise Hallie and Lady Antimony that I would  take part in the 100 word-Seven Deadly Sin Challenge- Oh, and this was supposed to be done quite awhile ago and if this was a real challenge then I guess I lost. Oh well. Sorry. But I have been up to my eyeballs  trying to be…good.

ENVY

Sick of her best friend always getting everything, Toni opened the car door and threw her purse on the floor. Why did her friend Julie always score the designer fashions, the best shoes and now Dr. Englemeier? Announcing their engagement was the last straw. She felt something primal gurgling in the pit of her stomach. Then when they kissed, she felt it should have been her, in his arms.  Following them, she raced around a curve on Mulholland drive. Losing control of her car she screamed, “Come back with my man bitch,” as her car flew over a cliff.

The Top Ten

This month, my favorite writing magazine has a Top Ten Issue with some wonderful articles that inspired this post. [Last year, I was on page 56 of their Top Ten issue (September 2010) with a simple sentence in a caption contest. Remember the one with the pink Cadillac? ]

Top Ten Authors/Poets
Who influenced my writing 


1. Frank Baum
2. Antoine de Saint-Exupery
3. Robert Service
4. Robert Frost
5. Edna St. Vincent Millay
6. Ayn Rand
7. E.B. White
8. Henry David Thoreau
9. Sylvia Plath
10. Walt Whitman

I think I read this over five times!

Top Ten Honorable Mentions

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Roald Dahl
Edith Wharton
Willa Cather
T.S. Eliot
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Franz Molnar
Mark Twain
William Carlos Williams
Emily Dickinson

Science Fiction?

I wrote this over a year ago on Plinky.com when they provided a prompt to 

create a science fiction character. If you've already read this, sorry. 

Fly in the rain

Alien characters are here among us filming our every move. They are watching you while you eat and listening to you complain about the food. They listen to your prayers and laugh. They are attracted to you and repelled at the same time by your scent, your arrogance and your superior behavior. 
You are never alone. They sit in a tree outside your window or buzz past you and land on the wall. Usually they will land on the piece of fruit you were just going to eat. Their sound vibrates but they are giggling at our stupidity. 
When you think you're closing a sale, they arrive to embarrass you and send your prospect to your competition.They have friends. Lots of friends. 
Living with them is not an option. You try to eradicate any trace of their existence. You zap, you spray, you hire dudes with fancy trucks specifically outfitted with the necessary chemicals. It doesn't matter. They know where you live. They will find you.Their eyes have thousands of lenses. If one of their kind dies, their life is easily replaced. 
Some people think they have outsmarted them for a few months, days even years, only to later find out that the strange creatures have seen it all. It is all on tape. Microscopic, tiny tape that only God can replay at the touch of a button. 
The creatures download everything on a regular basis, usually near the end of their lives. If they've missed anything they have substitutes. Hummingbirds, fleas, bed bugs and any little flying mechanism made to find the information that is currently needed. Most of the work is done by the common housefly and some people think that they are fairies. 
Your deeds, your habits--good or bad have to be catalogued and preserved. You cannot hide from justice. Atoms act different-- when they are observed. Do you? 

A Writer's Best Friend-Coffee

I'm in the middle of a project right now and will be re-posting some of my writing from other places on the web. I apologize if you've already read this and hope to come up with some of my original, new stuff soon.
Big hugs to all my followers and if this is your first time to The Desert Rocks please go back to read some of my older posts--I think you'll notice that I try to keep things fresh...like this morning's daily paper sitting on your damp lawn, like the stamp on your milk carton, like a flower-shop rose and supermarket French bread or gently bruised, yellow bananas and fruit-stand strawberries. It's the desert around here and when things get dry, old and stale they deteriorate and turn into dust...blowing around, landing in the corners of your eye, stinging and making you cry. I don't want to make you cry--ever. So now let's talk about making the best cuppa fresh joe.

Coffee Conundrum


Somehow, I can’t fathom the idea of getting into the shower, getting dressed and driving somewhere for coffee.


First of all, unless you’re lucky enough to live right above a coffee house, coffee should be close.


How close you ask? Close enough to crawl to when you stayed up late. Definitely closer than your car.


Secondly, coffee is not all the same. In fact, if I could tell you who had the perfect cup of java then I’d be rich beyond my wildest dreams. I will suggest however that those of you using freeze dried powders or pre-made little packets of coffee try something     new and invest in a small coffee grinder.

This is the old-fashioned style grinder,
but the newer electric ones work
 very well and don't cost a fortune.

They are not expensive and the aroma and grinding of the beans will elevate your coffee drinking experience, taking you on a new journey around the world. We just invested in something called a burr grinder which rotates the beans until they are finely ground, making stronger, creamier coffee. This rotating burr grinder is less messy and doesn’t clog as easily as the electric grinders. Sumatra? Jamaica? Hawaii? Why settle for the mysterious stuff they’re pouring at the gas station, when the choice can be yours.

Thirdly, these choices I’m talking about involve your taste buds. Do you like bold coffee tamed with cream and sugar or mysterious, smoky, black coffee that makes you want to smack your lips together and smile?

Medium roast, Breakfast blends, French roast, Viennese roast, mild, Colombian, Kona etc. are just some of your delectable options, and your palate might require a blend of the various roasted beans.
Repetition
Lastly, your personalized combination may best be compared to hitting the right note in a musical composition. Who would have thought, that one of the greatest composers in the universe, Beethoven, would start his fifth symphony by repeating the same musical note three times, but he did, and the result is pure genius. Writers know that practice makes perfect and the more we perfect our techniques the easier it is to fill  white pages with something meaningful, perhaps wonderful--that people will want to read. Now elevated to an art, coffee-making similarly needs a little repetitive practice for attaining caffeine inspired bliss.

One tiny tool. Take my recommendation and get the coffee grinder, make your coffee, fine tune it to your taste buds and unlock the secrets to your own personalized coffee nirvana!

Thank Goodness I'm Not A Doctor!

If you enjoy sad, blood-sucking, dark stories about the night, then The Desert Rocks is probably not going to be your favorite blog. That’s okay, I’m sure it’s true that I can’t be everything to all people. This is the desert where the sun shines almost 300 days or more per year, and when its night, the stars and the moon twinkle brightly against the dark sky. The moon brings out coyotes instead of wolves, but of course, with your vivid  imagination anything is possible.  Evil forces cannot hide due to the landscaping lights placed strategically against the palm trees and pool lights emit a cool blue effervescent glow in each yard. Yes, there is something called a yellow bat that swoops around sometimes in the afternoon, but they hardly look scary and I don’t think they’re interested in my hair. Of course, with all that sunshine I mentioned, most people wear hats.

For added measure, my kitchen is stocked with at least two huge bulbs of garlic at all times. When the warehouse supermarket sells huge bags of it, I am sometimes tempted to stock up. Personally, I want to be on the safe side of darkness and if necessary, I am also ready with my crucifix, even though I can’t see myself jabbing it into anything. Even the sight of fake blood on television makes me queasy. Which is definitely  a good thing, because otherwise I might have been a doctor instead of a writer and  for your own health’s sake and my sanity, I’m sure glad I’m not in medicine. Speaking of which, you can find out more about me on my new biography page where I have even posted a photo!


Thanks for visiting, and I hope we can still be friends--even if I hate the sight of blood and I don't like zombies, vampires and werewolves.

Organizing Chaos At The Library-A Poem

The Librarian

Empathizes--
Imparts wisdom--
Sets examples--
All while loving books.


Shelving,
Reading,
Classifying…
Pushing a cart through and around the 
Afternoon mess.
Squeezing tall skinny children’s picture books together--
Dressed very practical-
Comfortable shoes-
Reaching up…
Bending down…
Replacing….


Meanwhile,
Kindly answering questions
Row after row.
Aligning,
Straightening,
Adjusting the world 
Tenderly…
One book at a time.

Visit a local library today!