Each Friday, [tweetthis]I post a photo and a bit of flash fiction. I keep the words brief because, you know, “a picture is worth a 1,000….” [/tweetthis]http://www.theblacktortoise.com/1000-words-worth-2017-8/To find out more click  here.

“Okay girls, our best path forward is a bake sale,” Margaret says.

“People don’t want home-baked items anymore,” comes from Ruth.  My God, she tries so hard to go up against Margaret.  “They don’t trust the sanitary standards of other people’s kitchens.”

She does have a point, Jean thinks, but she keeps mum.  For one thing, she really needs to pee, and she wishes the meeting would just end, so she can go to the restroom and not make a fuss by getting up in the middle of the meeting and drawing attention to herself.  And for another thing, she just doesn’t want to draw attention to herself.  Or make a fuss.

Margaret pushes her hair behind her ear and looks across the table at Ann.  “The Daughters of the American Revolution have always stuck with the tried and true.”

Ann nods in agreement or perhaps just to acknowledge she’s heard Margaret, or it could be just a habit and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Margaret smiles.

Theresa threads her fingers together under the table.  She considers asking Margaret how she gets her hair to look so effortless. And where did she get those glasses? She’d ask, but she doesn’t want to seem like a peasant. Or worse, jealous.

Ruth thumbs through her reference book; she puts her finger on the passage so she doesn’t lose track.  “The CDC says that food-borne illnesses is the number one cause of illness in America.”

“That’s true, Ruth, but baked goods have very low water activity, so the chances of food-borne illness is very low.”

Joyce closes her eyes and rolls them under her lids.  There she goes, being all Miss Science on us again.

“Okay girls.  It’s settled then.  I’ll make my American flag sugar cookies,” says Margaret.  “Let’s get out there and spread Christian Democracy one cookie at a time.” She adds, “Thanks for your support, Ruth.”

“Let us end in prayer,” says Theresa.

Ann’s esophagus bubbles a bit of bile into the back of her throat.  She gives thanks for the medical marijuana that her mother has and shares with open abandon.

Ruth feels a headache coming on.  Does anyone even remember I’m Jewish, she wonders.

 

Jen has more of her delightful Mardi Gras photos over at Pierced Wondering.  Please hop over and check her out.