An Experience and Tea “Recipe” with Coffee-Mate’s Natural Bliss

Time for Tea
I’m a creature of habit and routine, like most people, but every once in awhile I feel experimental. This usually expresses itself in the form of cooking or mixing drink-ables.
I’m a tea-drinker over coffee (mainly after developing a sensitivity to caffeine, such a grave injustice for a writer). But as such is life, I consume an array of whites to blacks and sleepy herbal to energized breakfasts.

Over the years, I’ve kept things simple: water and sugar. Until my first family Christmas trip to Canada when I experienced having a cuppa the more “traditional” way, with milk. Even if unsweetened, I enjoyed this new taste bud tickler. I figured if milk could be added to coffee and tea, creamers could as well. A part of my palate missed the flavor blending I easily managed with coffee. So, after being a fan of International Delight’s creamers, for nearly five years, I purchased Nestle’s Coffee-Mate Natural Bliss (vanilla). You could say their calming advertising of steamy and creamy beverages got the better of my curiosity. The simple ingredients angle also didn’t hurt.

Natural Bliss Tea Recipe

The first cup.

Now I don’t usually “endorse” products on my site, but after the first sip of this concoction I felt inclined to share with others. Keep Reading


Ghostwriting My Life

When I think of having someone write my biography. My first thought is why wouldn’t I want to write my own memoirs, plenty of authors & writers do or have. I’m not, nor do I expect to become, a celebrity. Nor do I consider myself incapable of doing so. That aside, would I still be interested in seeing how someone else would paint my life? Sure, why not? And given the option of any author living or dead. I give my knee-jerk vote to…Richard Castle.

Screen capture via

Why Richard Castle? Not only is he ruggedly handsome (or so I’m led to believe), but have you read his books? They’re action packed, humanizing, engaging, maybe even a guilty pleasure (to some, not moi), and his journalistic experience means he’s thorough with his research. Not to mention he’s dedicated to his pieces. His ego wouldn’t allow him to do a sloppy job regardless of how great or simple the task. Granted, my life is not filled with the same level of excitement as drug cartels, or life tagging along with members of the NYPD. But I’m sure there are a couple of highlights he could run with, and I’d love to see them.

Who would you choose or did choose? Leave a comment below and/or a link to your own post answering this Daily Prompt and just maybe I’ll edit this post to include links to my favorites 😉

Ten Word Journal-ing (8)

Creativity coyly seduces reason inside my brain keeping me complete.

People knew dentists would know the truth,
but lied anyway.

Valentine’s Day pizza,
had enough for two,
went home,

Some turn to poetry for ease,
but discover it challenging.

Poet who doesn’t know it,
needs more than rhyming mastery.

Poetry, unique as fingerprints or as common as brown eyes.

So be it.
The thoughts summoned whenever distance is imposed.

Water trickling in from neighboring walls,
an unwelcome surprise.

Trust and compassion gradually replaced with dissociation and minimal communication.

Electric flash,
Thunderous roaring proceeded.
Goodbye tree, I am sorry.

Daring Do Heights

Before you start to wonder, “could this be about a person rescuing a feline from a tree?…” it is.

I was a wee lass heading home after a day of child shenanigans at a local playground. Walking with head down, lost in thought, I caught movement in my peripheral. The movement was coming fast and blurred. A real life cliché of a dog chasing a cat unfolded before my eyes, and sure enough, that cat scaled the nearest tree.
I was thankful no cars took that opportunity to come speeding around the corner. A common occurrence in my neighborhood. Even with the noticeable signs of caution and speed reduction.
“Aww poor thing.”
The small dog remained stationed at the base and let out a few “menacing” barks. Then headed toward its home. I didn’t know if this kitty was a stray, but at the time no one was coming for it or knew it was in a tree. I sized up the towering plant. I’m about 5’2 now and was several inches shorter then.
This was a challenge.
However, one I was willing to accept. Especially once the grey fluff started mewing realizing its mistake and trembled from its pursuit. I looked around for anyone that might be able to give me a boost. Of course, there wasn’t anyone.
I made for it on my own and pretended I was channeling skills I mastered in Girl Scouts. Reality being any of my refined tree skills came from the streets…of suburbia.  I found decent footing and eased my way up to the desired branch. Using my feline charming voice, which was probably much creepier then, I told the kitty it would be okay. And gently reached for it, not considering it might make an attempt to climb higher. The cat backed away a couple of inches, but stayed on the branch. I got a firm, but not crushing, grip on it and started to head back down feeling vainglorious. I slipped a little on the return and scraped my arm and leg on the rugged bark. In my self-satisfied haze, a minor wound was worth it.

Daily prompt

Ten Word Journal-ing (7)

some will use
what one didn’t request against you.

Anxiety crippled her performance,
but she prepared,
and was fine.

Thought matters.
Even when evident
The gift was for anyone?

If you don’t expect anything in return,
I’ll willingly accept.

With enough repetition,
she could manage playing one unstable note.

This one time at band camp, oh, it wasn’t camp.

Floss tied to a doorknob,
wasn’t ready,
out it came.

Possessing the dapper-ness of a tailor,
it was all style.

Mind disturbances
only loneliness stirs,
thank goodness for having cats.

No ringing, texts, or emails.
Did anyone still remember him?

Ten Word Journal-ing (6)

Rattling bank,
lack of coins indicated too many cash ins.

The Piggy bank looked at another,
and said “beats slaughter.”

A free night of film discovery from a caring network.

Generosity was giving away her last two chocolate chip cookies.

Her time was handed over freely,
but needed SOME reimbursement.

Remember the pressure, hours of reviewing?
I somehow miss them.

She pushed herself for keeping A’s,
that’s all she had.

Content appeared
Was the professor bored
Or needed us awake?

It died
Once left in my care.

Her lips prevented her from exploring certain woodwinds,
how sad.

Ten Word Journal-ing (5)

For many
Gastric butterflies are endearing
For others
Social nightmares.

She could change the date on Facebook,
few would notice.

Your personal new year,
showered with jubilation or painful reminders.

Her favorite
from Amsterdam
was longer than she was tall. (1/3)

Wrapped around her neck,
it could still kiss the ground. (2/3)

Thoughts, impractical,
but what other person would have one? (3/3)

Reached his hand,
Pulled her close,
As their song played.

She could never dance cheek to cheek (was too short).

Appeared in dream form,
but gone before I could think.

Floating through wild adventures with the click of a channel.

Ten Word Journal-ing (4)

Head tilted attentively as the hands construct words into meaning.

Music volume audible without damage,
the novice singing in unison.

Devoted he was.
Sacrificing chance of death,
for people unknown. (a haiku that just happened to be in ten words)

Summoned to attend
Contingent upon
“Ugly” or “tacky” sweater adornment.

A party of one?
Necessary after a party of some.

She was a voluntary party guest once,
every two months.

Flights home weren’t comforting,
counterparts couldn’t embrace at baggage claim.

She ransacked the house,
“Where could it be?”

Writing improving led to confidence improving, these were good things.

Another year,
Another line,
Another crack in her shallow spirit.

Ten Word Journal-ing (3)

Sweetness goes so far,
“sleeping beauty”
mocks us lazy bones.

I cannot envision myself as Aurora,
and I never will.

Tray en route,
arrive at cashier,
you need more funds.

24th birthday celebration.
Out all night.
Dehydrated all next day.

Standing against walls at social gatherings,
an anxious kiddo’s paradise.

Back to wall,
she drank until she could abandon it.

“Don’t pick him up, he’ll pee on you!”
Warning unheeded.

He hopped across my porch,
somewhere to be,
snake slithering.

She remembered Dumpy Tree Frogs,
softness of skin and toes.

Butterflies were welcomed
until he transformed them into anxiety weapons.

Ten Word Journal-ing (2)

Their sharing of aprons screamed egalitarians,
but that wasn’t it.

During the thunderstorm,
my telephone rang,
I was calling myself.

He stared at her photograph and sighed,
lovers too distant.

She was his antidepressant,
but not enough people understood this.

Best haircut he ever had,
she was reminded barbers exist.

Eyes followed
as if she had entered
the wrong universe.

The smock tightened and tightened
until he drifted into unconsciousness.

Have difficulty choosing,
but could narrow options
based on genre.

Those which compel cringing,
thinking, and becoming emotional
get approval.

My mother sometimes greets me:
“hello sleeping beauty,”
it’s sweet.