The soup was simmering and the banquet room was filling up with guests, so Chef went about sharpening the cutlery he’d use to carve tableside. The gleam of the steel and the familiar click-clack sound put him into a jovial mood. He’d be slicing up more than a roast tonight.
Eggs go with cutlery. I love eggs. I love the color of amber it creates. I absolutely love spining my wisk to make it into a smooth bowl of scrambled eggs. I absolutely love the simplicity of the packaging system the egg offers. It is absolutely the best design anyone person or chicken could create. And of course it is another color that I love; white! The egg is quite possibly the best creation of all time!
she had what some would think an irriational fear of cutlery – however, those people were the ones who were unaware of the scar she had on her chest due to being impaled there. she was very fortunate to have survived the attack, but she didn’t go without many assorted effects. there were the emotional and physical problems to deal with.
“Why are the spoons always in the fork tray?” Cecily growled, pawing through layers of metal and plastic. It wasn’t a big deal–she knew it wasn’t a big deal–and within a moment she had a fork in her hand. But as she stirred her instant macaroni, face puckered into a most impressive frown, she was still thinking about it.
Every morning I find myself lost in the kitchen. Scrambling about the blender, in and out of drawers, shuffling among the cutlery. Mornings are the hardest time of day for me to stay positive and active.
The design of the cutlery is important. Right now I’m using a fork with a skinny handle and it is a bit annoying. Perhaps it’s because I am used to my old silverware. The handle on those are fatter with a swirl design. I picked them out so I’m sure that’s why I prefer them.
Cutlery reminds me of Cutler. Isn’t he a football player? My husband starts to get really excited about football this time of year, even though it seems really far off to me. Summer goes by so fast that I am dumbfounded when it ends. Summer is a good time for picnics. And you better remember your cutlery!
Silverware, but fancier. This makes me think of a restaurant because it is more than a fork, spoon and knife. Its a tool used to devour some good quality food. I like words like this that add sophistication to otherwise simple, everyday ideas. Cutlery. I think I’ll teach my kids.
The forks were shiney and the spoons were dull and the knives didn’t exist but she loved everything about the kitchen anyway. She didn’t care that it was 200 years old or that there were holes in the floor boards and moths on the railings (although that was odd – why were there moths on all the railings? Live, breathing moths just chilling out on the bannister). The place was hers and everyone else’s who had lived in it before her, and so she was in love. Because she felt people around her even though nobody was there, and that was how she liked it. People scared, she called it. It was much better than alone scared.
They lay all in neat rows down the sides of the tables, and they seemed to be listening in on the conversation. Not that there was anything important being said—just words about the weather, Aunt Marge’s new boyfriend, twenty years her junior, etc, etc. That was mostly what they could bring themselves to talk about. Easy, scandalous stuff—conversation that glided over the surface easily, never dipping below the waves.
Hias kitchen was set up with the newset technology in sinks and heating possibilities and colling possibilities ever. His cutlery was the absolute most gorgoeus ever. He was so proud of this section of his house. He would just sleep on the counrter forever/
the cutlery dulled over the time. using the same utensils over and over with no buff tends to onset the dulling effect. it didnt bother me until steak was involved. nothing really bothers me, until it involves me.
I think about family dinners, good food, laying the table with my Dad while my Mom finishes preparing dinner. I also remember learning how to say every piece of cutlery in German with a really cute little girl, Karoline, my German-irish friends’ daughter, Paudy & Christine.
The maid sighed as she polished the cutlery to diamond-like shine. “What would it be like to have all these riches?”, she thought. To go to balls and parties, spend money like there was no tomorrow. How wonderful that would be.And then she remembered her masters’ problems, from infidelity, and all sorts of debauchery that could only result from the boredom being too rich without working for it. And she thought of her family’s simple life. They were poor, yes, but they were happy. And that was all that mattered.
hard, incomplete, shiny, smooth, silver, wood, useful, dangerous, creative, sets, small, large, weird, without, dirty, clean,
The soup was simmering and the banquet room was filling up with guests, so Chef went about sharpening the cutlery he’d use to carve tableside. The gleam of the steel and the familiar click-clack sound put him into a jovial mood. He’d be slicing up more than a roast tonight.
Eggs go with cutlery. I love eggs. I love the color of amber it creates. I absolutely love spining my wisk to make it into a smooth bowl of scrambled eggs. I absolutely love the simplicity of the packaging system the egg offers. It is absolutely the best design anyone person or chicken could create. And of course it is another color that I love; white! The egg is quite possibly the best creation of all time!
fall up the moon,
and talk if you want
(but she might not talk back).
one word to use but fingers
hailing with skins, and bones, and
maybe even the veins of a poet
saying there’s not enough
razors to open her lungs.
fall up the moon,
and talk if you want
(but kneecap letters
and river-run wrists
might never talk back).
she had what some would think an irriational fear of cutlery – however, those people were the ones who were unaware of the scar she had on her chest due to being impaled there. she was very fortunate to have survived the attack, but she didn’t go without many assorted effects. there were the emotional and physical problems to deal with.
“Why are the spoons always in the fork tray?” Cecily growled, pawing through layers of metal and plastic. It wasn’t a big deal–she knew it wasn’t a big deal–and within a moment she had a fork in her hand. But as she stirred her instant macaroni, face puckered into a most impressive frown, she was still thinking about it.
Every morning I find myself lost in the kitchen. Scrambling about the blender, in and out of drawers, shuffling among the cutlery. Mornings are the hardest time of day for me to stay positive and active.
The design of the cutlery is important. Right now I’m using a fork with a skinny handle and it is a bit annoying. Perhaps it’s because I am used to my old silverware. The handle on those are fatter with a swirl design. I picked them out so I’m sure that’s why I prefer them.
Cutlery reminds me of Cutler. Isn’t he a football player? My husband starts to get really excited about football this time of year, even though it seems really far off to me. Summer goes by so fast that I am dumbfounded when it ends. Summer is a good time for picnics. And you better remember your cutlery!
Silverware, but fancier. This makes me think of a restaurant because it is more than a fork, spoon and knife. Its a tool used to devour some good quality food. I like words like this that add sophistication to otherwise simple, everyday ideas. Cutlery. I think I’ll teach my kids.
The forks were shiney and the spoons were dull and the knives didn’t exist but she loved everything about the kitchen anyway. She didn’t care that it was 200 years old or that there were holes in the floor boards and moths on the railings (although that was odd – why were there moths on all the railings? Live, breathing moths just chilling out on the bannister). The place was hers and everyone else’s who had lived in it before her, and so she was in love. Because she felt people around her even though nobody was there, and that was how she liked it. People scared, she called it. It was much better than alone scared.
They lay all in neat rows down the sides of the tables, and they seemed to be listening in on the conversation. Not that there was anything important being said—just words about the weather, Aunt Marge’s new boyfriend, twenty years her junior, etc, etc. That was mostly what they could bring themselves to talk about. Easy, scandalous stuff—conversation that glided over the surface easily, never dipping below the waves.
Hias kitchen was set up with the newset technology in sinks and heating possibilities and colling possibilities ever. His cutlery was the absolute most gorgoeus ever. He was so proud of this section of his house. He would just sleep on the counrter forever/
the cutlery dulled over the time. using the same utensils over and over with no buff tends to onset the dulling effect. it didnt bother me until steak was involved. nothing really bothers me, until it involves me.
The scraping of forks and knives stopped and everyone stared at Genny. She stared back. “Did you hear me?”
“I did, I think,” Paul offered. “But maybe I’m wrong. Did you say that you were leaving?”
“Yes,” Genny said. “I did.”
I think about family dinners, good food, laying the table with my Dad while my Mom finishes preparing dinner. I also remember learning how to say every piece of cutlery in German with a really cute little girl, Karoline, my German-irish friends’ daughter, Paudy & Christine.
我不认识这个字（i do not know this word)
所以也就无法发挥（so i do know what to write)
这个字看上去像可爱的（it is similar to cute )
time out
Hi, I come, welcome, I will give some fun things for you. you will love it, I believe.
Benimm dich!
Alles muss perfekt sein.
Nimm nicht mit der Hand.
Alles muss mit Besteck sein.
The maid sighed as she polished the cutlery to diamond-like shine. “What would it be like to have all these riches?”, she thought. To go to balls and parties, spend money like there was no tomorrow. How wonderful that would be.And then she remembered her masters’ problems, from infidelity, and all sorts of debauchery that could only result from the boredom being too rich without working for it. And she thought of her family’s simple life. They were poor, yes, but they were happy. And that was all that mattered.