Your word this week is
ROSE
This week’s word came into my head after I went out for a meal with some friends at a lovely country pub called Rose Cottage. The pub lived up to its name, with lots of beautiful roses throughout. We use the word to refer to a shade of pink, as well as a type of wine (rosé). It can also be used to describe someone getting up – he rose to his feet, for example. Then there’s the shower rose, another name for a showerhead. What does this week’s word mean to you?
Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt CRAFTY.
Crafty Devil
The crafty devil came to say,
“Just eat that apple, come what may.”
But now we wish he’d go away
and so we tell him, “Leave!”
The Skilled Knitter
There was a wise old woman who was skilled and keen on knitting. Her granddaughters liked her crafty creative clothes that were knitted for them with a simple, earthy hazel brown yarn.
Although she was old, she was on an even keel; she enjoyed making clothes for herself and for all family members. Not only that, but whenever one of the clothes got ruined, she would fix it by knitting an article of a cloth again.
She would not only knit clothes and fix them, but she would also knit and fix winter hats, trousers, some accessories, and socks.
She used to knit them manually by hand, but she had managed to save time by using the knitting machine. However, she would use the machine to knit new clothes and use her hands to fix clothes that were ripped.
As a result, her granddaughters were inspired by her amazing skills, so they wanted to become crafty knitters, just like her. They told her that her clothes were so amazing, and that they wanted to be skilled like her.
She became kinder toward her granddaughters and smiled, saying, “Come closer, I’ll let you learn how knitting works.”
Meanings Missed Or Defined
To be “crafty” is a synonym for being “clever”.
When it means “you’re creative”, it’s a superpower.
When it means “you’re funny”, it’s a gift.
When it means “you’re manipulative”, it’s evil.
When manipulative people operate jointly, that’s called a “conspiracy”.
Not all “conspiracy theories” are credible BUT there’s never been a “conspiracy” uncovered without a “theory” coming first.
I used to be a very crafty person. I mean by that, that I loved doing all kinds of crafts. My favourite of all was embroidery and tapestry. I inherited this ability and love from my mother. She used to enjoy embroidering crinoline ladies and she was always doing one on cushions . I did rather different things to what she did, as I loved to make up my own pictures. Once, I took a photograph of a particular scene in our local forst in autumn when it is at its most beautiful. I then drew the scene onto some material, and began embroidering the colours in. I really enjoyed doing things like that. Also, I bought kits which gave you the keys to things and it ended up as a picture.
One time, I embroidered a picture of a deer and framed it and it is still on our wall now. I did this particular picture for people for a Christmas present.
Another thing that I enjoyed doing was knitting. The problem was that I would start sojmething and then become taken with something else and start that also. I would have loads of jumpers and things on the go all at once. I once knitted a garment on four needles with Icelandic wool. I knitted a coloured picture into it. That was great fun but the Icelandic wool got up my nose!
I also enjoyed sewing which I taught myself to do when I got married in my twenties. I made dresses for myself and skirts and blouses. Then I made myself a suit. Then I made my husband some trousers and a shirt and also a jacket at one point. I seemed to have an aptitude for it and I think that came from my grandmother who was a wonderful seamstress.
Although I am blind now, I still wish I could do these things, and I just can’t get rid of my lovely sewing machine even though I will never use it again. It was a real good one, and I loved it.
I never was any good at painting or drawing. I would have loved to be able to do it, but I never could.
As for being crafty as a fox, I don’t think I am that, but occasionally in myn lifetime I have had to be a bit crafty! I sometimes had to hide things to stop my husband foraging them. But my craftiness was never in a not nice way.
I like this word because it can mean so much.
Crafty Me!
I am not very crafty, and I don’t do much artsy things.
I do like to knit, but it isn’t something that I do often.
I cant crochet, but I keep saying I am going to learn.
My friend crocheted me a beautiful blanket, that I love.
I don’t paint or draw, because I am blind, so that craft is out for me.
I can’t sew, either.
I like to work with clay too sometimes. I have not had a chance to work with clay in a while now.
I did art therapy for a while, and I’d work with clay.
I also enjoy making cards, and decorating them.
I used to work with beads, and make jewelery.
That was a fun hobby.
I like baking, but I need help with that, so I don’t do it often either.
Crafting is fun, but to be honest, I prefer to read, reading is the hobby I most enjoy.
The Wordsmith
on the bleakness of the page the poet bends picks up a cast-iron word strikes it and - spark! it becomes a vessel tiny flashes flying lowercase where rhythms meet and phrases are born the hand trembles on syllables fitting mid-air shapes that have not yet become while silence - crafty as the crow pauses as the world rearranges itself into something meaningful John W. Howell: They say he is crafty. I know for a fact he is all thumbs. Maybe they mean something else. Susan Batten: She thought she was being so crafty, (though we knew we would a get a good laughty) – she applied enough paint to inveigle a saint, but her thirty was fifty, the dafty. Dawn Pisturino: a crafty fellow but not so smart to avoid the crafty police The Bag Lady: This prompt comes at the perfect time. Last night I spent an hour trying to thread some twine through a few wooden pumpkin plaques. They were about two inches around and the twine tiny and easily shredded. It’s been a long time since I tried to do anything crafty because my left hand won’t cooperate much. But this was a simple task I did complete. I would like to try painting or drawing, but hmmmn…we’ll see. Fandango: Reggie's Crafty Project Reggie always admired crafty people. You know the type. They can turn a popsicle stick, a button, and something found under the couch into a seasonal centerpiece worthy of a magazine cover. Meanwhile, Reggie needed written instructions to operate a glue stick. This past weekend, he decided to transform himself into a crafty person. He watched YouTube tutorials, went to the the local hardware style and bought the tools, supplies, and materials for his project, and confidently announced (to himself) that he would create a farmhouse-style birdhouse. Working around the clock for almost 36 hours, and with hot glue on his shirt, paint in his hair, Reggie had built an impressive birdhouse. It resembled a miniature cottage, complete with tiny windows, shutters, a front door, flower boxes, and decorative trim. On Monday morning, Reggie proudly placed his creation on a wood pole just off his front porch. When he got home from work that day, he was disappointed that no birds had taken up residence in his creation. The next morning, he rushed outside to see if any birds had moved in. None had. And even the squirrels seemed to show no interest in his craft project. Reggie was disheartened that, even after a few days, his birdhouse didn’t attract any birds to house. But it did attract attention. On Wednesday morning there were still no birds. But he did find a notice printed on thick yellow paper tacked to his DIY birdhouse. The notice read: HOA CODE VIOLATION Additional Dwelling Units (ADUs) cannot be constructed without prior Homeowners Association approval. Remove the ADU immediately and apply to the HOA if you wish to rebuild it. The Afterlove Voice: Crafty is one of those words that can get you into trouble. If someone says, “Oh, she’s crafty,” they might mean she can turn a few scraps of fabric, some glue and an empty box into something beautiful. Or… they might mean you should probably keep an eye on her. 😂 I think I have a little of both in me. I’ve always enjoyed creating things. Writing, painting, photography, music — taking something that begins as an idea and slowly giving it a shape of its own. There is something magical about making. A blank page becomes a story. A handful of words becomes a poem. A thought becomes a lyric, and eventually that lyric can become a song. Creativity is a craft too. We learn by experimenting, making mistakes, changing things, deleting half of what we just wrote and occasionally wondering why we started in the first place. Then suddenly something clicks. There it is. The thing we could see in our imagination has found its way into the world. But let’s not forget the other meaning of crafty. Sometimes being a little crafty is useful. Life doesn’t always follow the instructions on the box. Occasionally you have to improvise, find another route, or quietly invent your own rules. Perhaps that’s creativity too. Seeing possibilities where someone else sees limitations. Finding another way when the obvious one doesn’t work. Taking whatever life puts in front of you and saying: Hmm… I wonder what I can make out of this? So yes, I’ll happily accept crafty. Creative crafty. Resourceful crafty. And perhaps… just a tiny bit of the keep-an-eye-on-her kind too. Dan Ince: Time For A Crafty Cigarette “Comin’ out for a crafty cig?” Dale asked, pausing the game. “Whoa! I was about to land the finisher on that guy!” Phil said, flustered. “Don’t worry about that,” Dale said, “plenty of opportunities for that later on. What we don’t have is many opportunities to sneak out for a cheeky smoke while we’re staying at Mum’s.” Phil craned his neck and took a conspiratorial peek into the kitchen, searching for their mum, “That’s true.” “Can you see her?” Dale asked, who had made his way to the bottom of the stairs and was listening for any noise coming from above. “No.” Phil said, “She was doing laundry the last time I saw her.” Satisfied all was quiet, Dale made his way over to the bookcase. One of the shelves was packed with DVDs ordered by individual boxes over to the left going into box sets on the right hand side. He quietly slid out one of the box sets, gently reached inside and produced a half-smoked pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “You know,” Phil said as Dale gently restored the box set case, “in the eyes of the law, we’ve been able to smoke for years. Think it’s time we actually told Mum?” Dale stared at Phil like he’d just been invited to an AA meeting hosted in a pub. “Are you kidding?!” he gasped while pocketing the cigarette packet and lighter, “She’d kill us! We’ll do it when we’re in our thirties. Personally, I’d quite like to see out the rest of my twenties before we sign our own death warrants!” Satisfied she wasn’t around, Dale and Phil quietly made their way to the front door, and both ssshhed the squeaky handle when it tried to give away their position. They crept across the front lawn, hopping over the bordering flowers onto the driveway. Brushing up against the garage, they took a sharp turn, ducking around the corner into the side access of the house. They skidded to a halt. Their mum was already standing there, facing in the opposite direction out and into the back garden. Dale and Phil motioned to back away, but before they could, they both noticed the plume of wispy, grey smoke coiling its way up and into the air around her head. “What?! Mum?!!” Dale cried. She spun around, startled. In doing so, the smouldering source of the wispy, grey smoke was exposed, tucked between her fingers. In a futile effort, she hid the cigarette behind her back. “Oh, hey boys,” she said, “I guess that’s me busted!” She stubbed it out on the wall and dropped it into a nearby flower pot. “What can I say?” she said, “I just needed a crafty cig.” Pensitivity101: I was hopeless at arts and crafts at school, especially Grammar School where matchstick men and happy suns shining above lopsided houses weren’t acceptable. We had to make a reusable book cover for our ‘rough’ exercise books, used to make notes in preparation of homework. Yuk. I got a C for mine, but it held together OK and I was still using it in my final year. I never seemed to have a creative instinct other than my music, so when I took a serious interest in card making after a demo at the ladies group I belonged to in 2008-2014, it stayed with me for years. I’ve only had two small sessions this year and my reserve box is almost empty! Many would call it recycling rather than crafty or craftwork, as I use lovely pictures from Christmas cards or calendars. My neighbour gave me a huge sheet of cellophane that some flowers had arrived in and I used that. I’ve had my share of disasters too, including a snowman with dreadlocks I sent to my mum one Christmas when we were in the cottage. Apparently his hair fell off when she opened the envelope and I guess it looked a little like a drunk tarantula on the deck. It made her laugh though. I made some special ones for her, the last for her birthday in 2017. Jules Pens Some Gems: For Charcuterie Crafters Cullinary Routines Altered Food Tempts You Teleportingweena: I was always reading, writing stories, and doing crafty type art such as scrap books, and painting. I still do all of that as a grown up. Most proud of my writing and published pieces. I’ve tried all kinds of arts and crafts over the years, and mentioned them many times in my posts, so won’t this time. I don’t do a lot now, if it was something to make, because I have enough stuff around here. I don’t and didn’t know what to do with the things I made, but it was fun doing them. Let me try to write a limerick, but will use craft instead of crafty. I’m using craft as another word for boat or ship or yacht, and also craft, as in crochet. *** A girl once worked on a craft It was not much bigger than a raft So she crocheted and tied Till her hands hurt, and cried To fix this darned raft I was daft *** Then along came a real fancy craft The girl jumped up and down on her raft To get their attention Was her ambition And when they asked her aboard, she laughed The Elephant's Trunk: Malcontent A cynical crow, slick and crafty Thought corporate life looked rather sappy He sold swamp land and stocks To gullible flocks And flew off but never was happy Cathy Cade: Practising The Craft Creative pursuits become more than just hobbies; Repairs, renovations all save money too. A way to find gifts that mean more than mere purchases, Filling my hours as well – something to do. Testing my patience to practise till perfect Yet still the temptation’s to try something new. Dawgy Daddy Responds: The lustre of the blues draws you in Crafty writers sing of sorrow and sin Love and lust sang to different grooves The lure of sound leading your moods Lou By The Sea: Crafty Colin Age 1 Colin climbed out of his cot. “”Who’s a crafty Colin” coo’d his Mummy. Age 5 Colin hid the car keys in the bread bin. “Oh, you are a Crafty Colin” Age 10 Colin forged a letter to excuse him from games. “I should have expected that from our Crafty Colin,” she laughed. Age 15 The school was burned down. Nothing was said. Age 17 Nextdoor was burgled. Nothing was said. Age 20 A robbery gone wrong,one policeman dead. It had to be said. Please take the witness stand and state your full name, The Judge said, pointing at Colin. “I want to be called Crafty Colin,” he said “You’re just attention seeking,” spat his mother from the balcony. “MY NAME IS CRAFTY COLIN!” he shouted, stamping his feet, Pleading with his Mummy. Pleading guilty. She Knows All: Crafty is everywhere. In toilet roll tubes and cotton wool, in leaves pressed flat on paper, in the mess that means something was made. I learned to love crafty because someone loved it first. Though I didn’t fall for a skill. I fell for patience that never rushed me. For honesty that never hid the mess. For warmth that showed up on the floor with me. For presence in the smallest, most ordinary afternoons. Crafty was never just crafty. It was a person. Who is your crafty? Rall: crafty he was for sure everything was his way his good looks were an asset and it worked michnavs: Enemy of Love unleash in me the devil within. fool— play your games, baby, and feel my wrath. betrayal— thy craftiest blade, the greatest enemy of love. John D. Ottini: Mind Games She was crafty with her words, he pretended that he knew what she thought. Suzette B's Blog: Glue change—that crafty glue shapes beauty from what has fallen comforts the broken Astrid: Crafty In The Kitchen I could of course moan about the fact that I haven’t been crafting anything with polymer clay in at least a month. However, the reason that polymer clay is taking a back seat, is the fact that I’ve been crafty in many other ways. I mean, is cooking a craft? And if so, am I good enough at it to consider myself crafty in this respect? This is a question of skill and of self-esteem that I won’t go into right now. The main thing is that I’ve truly been enjoying being crafty in the kitchen. Yesterday, a staff who’s almost as easily stressed as I am, was assigned to me for my two-hour activity time slot and I’d planned to cook. What’s more, I’d planned to create a crispy rice salad with tofu, lots of vegetables, a homemade dressing and of course fried rice. Oh my, was I scared! Thankfully, the staff admitted that so was she and this opened the door for both of us to remain calmer than we’d be if we hadn’t been open about our vulnerabilities. And guess what? The process went well and the salad was absolutely delish! The original recipe was for four servings and I didn’t have the guts to change anything, so I had quite a bit left when I’d consumed my meal. Thankfully, I knew this in advance so had asked a fellow resident who loves the cooking experience whether he’d like a serving too. He did and he liked it too. So did the staff I’d cooked it with. So now the three of us all had some extra, but that’s totally okay. By the way, MyFitnessPal was finally content with my protein intake and like I said I hadn’t even eaten meat.
I also love whipping up random food from things I still have left over from previous culinary endeavors. For example, on Tuesday, I made an avocado-chocolate mousse. I looked for coconut milk and cacao powder to go into it when at the supermarket with my best friend on Sunday. We didn’t find the cacao powder, but thankfully I still had enough in my cupboard. However, the recipe only called for 125ml of coconut milk for six servings and the smallest container was 200ml.
Until recently, I’d have thrown away the leftover coconut milk. I’m not saying I won’t do this anymore, as sometimes I totally forget that I have something left in the fridge. However, today I did remember and I whipped up what I’d planned to be a smoothie. I couldn’t find any recipe that I had all the ingredients for, but I experimented by adding frozen mango and the leftover coconut milk to my kitchen machine’s blender. What do you English-speaking people even call a multipurpose food processor/stand mixer/whatever? That’s the thing I have. Anyway, the mixture was way too thick to be a smoothie, but it was delicious as a mousse.
Experimenting does sometimes lead to less desirable results. This evening, for example, I tried to make a homemade chai latte, but my homemade chai mix probably has way too much black pepper in it. I still hope that’s not the problem, as I also added it to my overnight oats for tomorrow. However, I must say culinary craftiness does help me develop my sense of what I like and dislike and why. There I’m talking self-image after all.
When my grandson was a toddler, my daughter in law had a terrible time getting him toilet trained. No matter what incentives she used, she still couldn’t get him out of nappies. It eventually became apparent that there was an underlying cause; he was referred to the hospital and diagnosed with an overactive bladder.
Meanwhile, around five years old, Sam woke up one morning with a bone dry nappy, knowing how pleased mummy would be. Until… she found a wet nappy all wrapped up in the bin, and wet pants in the linen basket!
He’d managed to change himself and dispose of the evidence; it was hard to be cross within him, when he’d used his ingenuity.
(I’m pleased to say that crafty Sam did eventually grow out of it.)
***
Image credit: Pinterest
Esther Chilton 
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