Martha Stuart is in a flying pickup (battered old red/white/green Chevy) dive-bombing it seems straight toward us. “Don’t worry, she knows what she’s doing.”
Sure ‘nuff, she pulls it out into a smooth landing.
Waiting for lunch, the roll call. Standing in line, by work task or whatever, in fields or a garden near the dining hall.
Am rolling hard-boiled eggs – then shooting them with a cue stick to the opposite end of a billiard table. After striking a number of regular pool balls, I shoot an egg that cracks open, oozing yolk on the green fabric.
Jnana's Red Barn 