When you put these things together, we are the greater than the sum of our parts. The way our hands fit, the words at the end of unfinished sentences, the words of silence that you hear all on your own. You and I…we can make universes. We can build empires. We can change the world. Simply with us.
I’m thinking about a recipe book my mother had since I was a child. The Joy Of Cooking. Somehow, I’ve always felt like I should have a copy in my home because it was part of my childhood home – even though as far as I know, we only ever used two or three recipes from that book: Apple pie, pumpkin pie, and maybe banana bread. I could just print out copies of those three recipes, or possibly get even better ones from the internet. And yet, I somehow still feel the need to have that book in my kitchen. I just do.
I knew that Minerva told me to find the necessary ingredients for her spell and to find them rather quickly too, but I couldnt help but sulk when the idea of me trekking out to search for them came to mind. Where on earth was a person like me going to find a fluorescent green, scaly dragon tale that glistened only under the light of the full moon and a rabbit foot with five toes and the silver hair of some crazy old bat in a cottage and the ear of a dead elf, which I find extremely unsanitary. This was hopeless. I was useless and gutless and I was not looking forward to touching the ear of a corpse.
The ingredients were complex, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to bake the cake.
I mean, my mom hadn’t taught me much of this before she passed, and my father would burn down the house just by setting a foot in the kitchen much like satan in a church. It really was such a fantastic pairing.
I liked to think I was more like my mom.
a pinch of punctuation, sprinkled a top crisp egg shell sheets, stained with indian ink forming, a careful clutter of clauses and compounds amid conjunctions – for texture.
The rain, the howling wind, the lightning were ingredients of a nasty storm. I huddled in the corner of my room, terrified I was about to see the bright light that everyone talks about. I have never been so scared in all of my life.
He stared at the recipe, “OK, I have all the ingredients, I think…” Even though he followed the recipe to the letter, his pie never quite tasted like his mother’s pie. “I miss her,” he said to no one in particular.
Ingredients for life
Love equal amounts given and recieved
A hand full of success
The other full of failures
A heaped tablespoon af bravery for conquering those fears
100 fluid ounces of morals and values
in the late afternoon she started to get really excited and nervous. their second date was to happen today in the evening. he invited her over to his house. for some dinner, he said. she expected him to cook. but he on the other side prepared everything neatly, cut all the ingredients and put them in little bowls, so that the two of them can do the cooking together. he expected this to be super romantic, but unfortunately … she was disappointed.
The ingredients are yummy aren’t they? I have eaten them many times before, but this time was the best. I’m sure of it. The way they flick off my teeth bouncing across my tongue and down my throat fills my tummy like no other. I just wish they would stop screaming. Yes, their screaming concerns me greatly. I feel as if I need to rectify the screaming before I can eat them next time.
A mixture of people was all they needed. A good mixture. Different personalities, opinions, lifestyles. These were the things that the house missed. That and pots and pans and cleaninng chemicals for the tiolet, but they werren’t as important as the personalities.
He was less than thirty meters from his children, who were standing on an open street. He had a car nearby. He could just drive up to them and tell them to jump in. They would be gone before anyone could react. But Dave knew those were the ingredients for a trip to jail. He would have nowhere to take them, nowhere to hide, and he sure as hell couldn’t leave the country with them. They would be found within days unless they hid very carefully, and Dave didn’t want to have to hide. He just wanted a normal life again.
Ingredients for every recipe, every concoction and creation made to be eaten or drunk. To follow it to the T, every precise direction and measurement? Or to veer off into one’s ingenuity or imagination, create something new out of something existing, to make something of your own and call yourself a god.
Ingredients. Makes me think of baking. Makes me think of the future. Cooking means so much to me, it’s the only time I’ve felt really happy when thinking about the future. Makes me think of times with my mom. I can’t imagine going forward in life with anything but cooking.
the basic ingredients to make a sentient pumpkin pie are simple. a regular pumpkin pie, and a high school year book from 1972. the reason why such an old year book is needed is unknown but they can easily be found on ebay or in your brother’s closet. an important thing to remember is that sentient pumpkin pies often will try and succeed to get you to kidnap the president. please try to refrain from doing so or you may not get the full pie experience.
All of the ingredients and props I needed to make this spell powerful enough to be effective, were now in my possession. Justice, at last. See you at your funeral
hope
faith
strength
courage
passion
joy
and maybe much more
things that matter most in life
that would be more than enough to get by
friends and most importantly , love.
the ingredients that would surely satisfy.
Have you ever considered writing an ebook or guest authoring on other blogs?
I have a blog centered on the same subjects you discuss and
would love to have you share some stories/information. I know my audience
would enjoy your work. If you’re even remotely interested,
feel free to shoot me an e-mail.
I wish I had all the ingredients to make myself sane again. To make myself feel like I were on the ground. I feel uprooted. How do I bake myself roots. Where is the recipe?
The first one, no matter what, in all equations, is fear. For death we add a second ingredient: an end to the fear. Not a pinch or a dash, but only as much as needed. (For the dying but not those who watch the death flutter at the window pane and pass through to the chill breeze outside.)
“Making the potion’s the easy part,” he said, waving her off and slapping Greer’s fingers before they could make contact with the latest vial that had caught his eye.
“Then why am I here, wizard?” Lilah drawled, crossing her arms, “I have better things to do than keep you company,”
Alponius looked up at her in confusion. “My dear, what could be more important than gathering the ingredients?”
She blinked, shock blowing her eyes wide. “You…you don’t have them already? ANY of them?”
“Of course not!” he scoffed, looking almost AFFRONTED at the suggestion. “Why would I?”
The doorbell rang again, and a raucous shout of excitement broke in the living room. “Everyone is here! Now can we eat now?” the kids whined. Murmurs of agreement buzzed around the kitchen. Sarah exhaled and tried to steady her hands to slip on the oven mittens. Her first turkey looked perfect. She said a silent prayer they wouldn’t notice what was missing.
How fitting, as all of the ingredients wait patiently to be blended together, melted, poured, baked, and stirred. Alone they are sufficient, but married their souls flow together, never to be torn apart again. For once was separate, will now always be as one. If one is missing, the entire experience is bare. So always be aware, be ever present, never lacking. For without one part of you, the recipe is not complete.
The food was baking in the oven, imparting a delicious aroma through the house. Children were lining up with the plates for snacks, waiting for the finishing turkey. Parents were ushering in guests, greeting them with open arms and smiles. They waited for the festivities, as one set apart, waited to be part of the happenings…
making cookies is so hard. you have to gather the eggs and the flour and the chips and everything. and then u gotta make sure you mix the flour right or everything will be ruined. i am so bad at baking… i want to go make cookies right now
the different ways to serve others are truly diverse. some suit more sugary tastes, while others look so good overwhelmed with spice. in every way, man is a dish best served hot, and freshly hunted.
Ikkaku’s life had always been simple. All he’d needed was beer in his mouth, his sword in his hand, and blood under his nails. He was content in roaming, killing, and never laying in the same place for more than one night.
Still, his life seemed complete the moment he added the special ingredient. After that, his life had become insanely complicated, filled with emotional breakdowns and a tangled web of lies, but still, he’d been happy. He knew now that this was absolute, and everything else he’d ever needed was optional. The secret ever-fulfilling element to top his pyramid of success was an idiotic prissy narcissist.
These things are needed for a happy home: trust, respect, love, willingness to compromise, understanding.
Problem is, you miss one the whole thing can fall apart.
A lot of different ingredients go into people. Mostly its good stuff, like nice eyes, or being a good hugger, but sometimes bad stuff slips in there and then it gets cooked and then theres not really anything you can do about it. People are like pies in that way.
In the kitchen, with my sister Bridget. The light was yellow and warm, just like the butter she pulled out of the microwave gingerly. With dread, I realized I had made a mistake – put the cinnamon sugar mix into the dough instead of rolling the dough in it. She quickly removed it all as best as she could, laughing at my mistake. The wild girl who said hi to strangers was different in the kitchen. She was careful, observant, gentle.
Once we got all the ingredients, we set about preparing the pot for the stew. I opened the top drawer of the shelf to get wooden spoons, only to shriek when a spider the size of my fist peered up at me. When I slammed the drawer shut, I heard Emily laugh.
“I see you’ve met Roger,” she said. “He likes hanging around the cooking utensils.”
“Roger?” I gasped. “That thing has a name?”
“The thing is a tarantula,” replied Emily. “And yes. He does.”
cranberries, red wine, orange peel, cinnamon sticks, floating in a great crimson soup, and smell wafting up, overpoweringly choking alcohol smell, yet creating beautiful mixture. Ingredients. Dirt, nutrients, water, food, cells, heart, mind, soul, mixed into me, mixed into you, mixed into the earth, mixed into God. Life
When someone asks me about ingredients i always think food but maybe there is more to ingredients than just the quality of my meal. If i really want ingredients, what would I use them for?
Am i looking for food or just a pass time to fill the empty void in which i live in.
When you put these things together, we are the greater than the sum of our parts. The way our hands fit, the words at the end of unfinished sentences, the words of silence that you hear all on your own. You and I…we can make universes. We can build empires. We can change the world. Simply with us.
ingredients.
I’m thinking about a recipe book my mother had since I was a child. The Joy Of Cooking. Somehow, I’ve always felt like I should have a copy in my home because it was part of my childhood home – even though as far as I know, we only ever used two or three recipes from that book: Apple pie, pumpkin pie, and maybe banana bread. I could just print out copies of those three recipes, or possibly get even better ones from the internet. And yet, I somehow still feel the need to have that book in my kitchen. I just do.
I knew that Minerva told me to find the necessary ingredients for her spell and to find them rather quickly too, but I couldnt help but sulk when the idea of me trekking out to search for them came to mind. Where on earth was a person like me going to find a fluorescent green, scaly dragon tale that glistened only under the light of the full moon and a rabbit foot with five toes and the silver hair of some crazy old bat in a cottage and the ear of a dead elf, which I find extremely unsanitary. This was hopeless. I was useless and gutless and I was not looking forward to touching the ear of a corpse.
The ingredients were complex, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to bake the cake.
I mean, my mom hadn’t taught me much of this before she passed, and my father would burn down the house just by setting a foot in the kitchen much like satan in a church. It really was such a fantastic pairing.
I liked to think I was more like my mom.
The ingredients to a good story
Words-spelt correctly
That’s it…… But there might be some other stuff I dunno
a pinch of punctuation, sprinkled a top crisp egg shell sheets, stained with indian ink forming, a careful clutter of clauses and compounds amid conjunctions – for texture.
The rain, the howling wind, the lightning were ingredients of a nasty storm. I huddled in the corner of my room, terrified I was about to see the bright light that everyone talks about. I have never been so scared in all of my life.
ingredients
require you to make something
i don’t feel like making anything
i just want to sleep
and eat cereal
and smoke
He stared at the recipe, “OK, I have all the ingredients, I think…” Even though he followed the recipe to the letter, his pie never quite tasted like his mother’s pie. “I miss her,” he said to no one in particular.
Ingredients for life
Love equal amounts given and recieved
A hand full of success
The other full of failures
A heaped tablespoon af bravery for conquering those fears
100 fluid ounces of morals and values
When you want to cook, you must have the right ingredients. Good ingredients are essential to your cooking. Good ingredient, good food!
in the late afternoon she started to get really excited and nervous. their second date was to happen today in the evening. he invited her over to his house. for some dinner, he said. she expected him to cook. but he on the other side prepared everything neatly, cut all the ingredients and put them in little bowls, so that the two of them can do the cooking together. he expected this to be super romantic, but unfortunately … she was disappointed.
The ingredients are yummy aren’t they? I have eaten them many times before, but this time was the best. I’m sure of it. The way they flick off my teeth bouncing across my tongue and down my throat fills my tummy like no other. I just wish they would stop screaming. Yes, their screaming concerns me greatly. I feel as if I need to rectify the screaming before I can eat them next time.
A mixture of people was all they needed. A good mixture. Different personalities, opinions, lifestyles. These were the things that the house missed. That and pots and pans and cleaninng chemicals for the tiolet, but they werren’t as important as the personalities.
He was less than thirty meters from his children, who were standing on an open street. He had a car nearby. He could just drive up to them and tell them to jump in. They would be gone before anyone could react. But Dave knew those were the ingredients for a trip to jail. He would have nowhere to take them, nowhere to hide, and he sure as hell couldn’t leave the country with them. They would be found within days unless they hid very carefully, and Dave didn’t want to have to hide. He just wanted a normal life again.
Ingredients for every recipe, every concoction and creation made to be eaten or drunk. To follow it to the T, every precise direction and measurement? Or to veer off into one’s ingenuity or imagination, create something new out of something existing, to make something of your own and call yourself a god.
Ingredients. Makes me think of baking. Makes me think of the future. Cooking means so much to me, it’s the only time I’ve felt really happy when thinking about the future. Makes me think of times with my mom. I can’t imagine going forward in life with anything but cooking.
the basic ingredients to make a sentient pumpkin pie are simple. a regular pumpkin pie, and a high school year book from 1972. the reason why such an old year book is needed is unknown but they can easily be found on ebay or in your brother’s closet. an important thing to remember is that sentient pumpkin pies often will try and succeed to get you to kidnap the president. please try to refrain from doing so or you may not get the full pie experience.
All of the ingredients and props I needed to make this spell powerful enough to be effective, were now in my possession. Justice, at last. See you at your funeral
2 Years Of Intimate Lonliness
1 Crippling Order of Social Anxiety
5 Buttloads of University Homework
40 Hours of Fulltime Work
That nets you one deep, dark, depression.
hope
faith
strength
courage
passion
joy
and maybe much more
things that matter most in life
that would be more than enough to get by
friends and most importantly , love.
the ingredients that would surely satisfy.
Have you ever considered writing an ebook or guest authoring on other blogs?
I have a blog centered on the same subjects you discuss and
would love to have you share some stories/information. I know my audience
would enjoy your work. If you’re even remotely interested,
feel free to shoot me an e-mail.
I wish I had all the ingredients to make myself sane again. To make myself feel like I were on the ground. I feel uprooted. How do I bake myself roots. Where is the recipe?
The first one, no matter what, in all equations, is fear. For death we add a second ingredient: an end to the fear. Not a pinch or a dash, but only as much as needed. (For the dying but not those who watch the death flutter at the window pane and pass through to the chill breeze outside.)
“Making the potion’s the easy part,” he said, waving her off and slapping Greer’s fingers before they could make contact with the latest vial that had caught his eye.
“Then why am I here, wizard?” Lilah drawled, crossing her arms, “I have better things to do than keep you company,”
Alponius looked up at her in confusion. “My dear, what could be more important than gathering the ingredients?”
She blinked, shock blowing her eyes wide. “You…you don’t have them already? ANY of them?”
“Of course not!” he scoffed, looking almost AFFRONTED at the suggestion. “Why would I?”
The doorbell rang again, and a raucous shout of excitement broke in the living room. “Everyone is here! Now can we eat now?” the kids whined. Murmurs of agreement buzzed around the kitchen. Sarah exhaled and tried to steady her hands to slip on the oven mittens. Her first turkey looked perfect. She said a silent prayer they wouldn’t notice what was missing.
How fitting, as all of the ingredients wait patiently to be blended together, melted, poured, baked, and stirred. Alone they are sufficient, but married their souls flow together, never to be torn apart again. For once was separate, will now always be as one. If one is missing, the entire experience is bare. So always be aware, be ever present, never lacking. For without one part of you, the recipe is not complete.
The food was baking in the oven, imparting a delicious aroma through the house. Children were lining up with the plates for snacks, waiting for the finishing turkey. Parents were ushering in guests, greeting them with open arms and smiles. They waited for the festivities, as one set apart, waited to be part of the happenings…
making cookies is so hard. you have to gather the eggs and the flour and the chips and everything. and then u gotta make sure you mix the flour right or everything will be ruined. i am so bad at baking… i want to go make cookies right now
the different ways to serve others are truly diverse. some suit more sugary tastes, while others look so good overwhelmed with spice. in every way, man is a dish best served hot, and freshly hunted.
When I talk about ingredients i realy think in cake , because It’s the only food I know to do .
The ingredients to the sauce he was preparing was almost absurd and hard to find so he went to cottage near his to fetch the ivy he needed.
Ikkaku’s life had always been simple. All he’d needed was beer in his mouth, his sword in his hand, and blood under his nails. He was content in roaming, killing, and never laying in the same place for more than one night.
Still, his life seemed complete the moment he added the special ingredient. After that, his life had become insanely complicated, filled with emotional breakdowns and a tangled web of lies, but still, he’d been happy. He knew now that this was absolute, and everything else he’d ever needed was optional. The secret ever-fulfilling element to top his pyramid of success was an idiotic prissy narcissist.
Yumichika.
These things are needed for a happy home: trust, respect, love, willingness to compromise, understanding.
Problem is, you miss one the whole thing can fall apart.
A lot of different ingredients go into people. Mostly its good stuff, like nice eyes, or being a good hugger, but sometimes bad stuff slips in there and then it gets cooked and then theres not really anything you can do about it. People are like pies in that way.
In the kitchen, with my sister Bridget. The light was yellow and warm, just like the butter she pulled out of the microwave gingerly. With dread, I realized I had made a mistake – put the cinnamon sugar mix into the dough instead of rolling the dough in it. She quickly removed it all as best as she could, laughing at my mistake. The wild girl who said hi to strangers was different in the kitchen. She was careful, observant, gentle.
Sugar spice ‘n’ everything nice.
Love lust ‘n’ nothing else.
Once we got all the ingredients, we set about preparing the pot for the stew. I opened the top drawer of the shelf to get wooden spoons, only to shriek when a spider the size of my fist peered up at me. When I slammed the drawer shut, I heard Emily laugh.
“I see you’ve met Roger,” she said. “He likes hanging around the cooking utensils.”
“Roger?” I gasped. “That thing has a name?”
“The thing is a tarantula,” replied Emily. “And yes. He does.”
cranberries, red wine, orange peel, cinnamon sticks, floating in a great crimson soup, and smell wafting up, overpoweringly choking alcohol smell, yet creating beautiful mixture. Ingredients. Dirt, nutrients, water, food, cells, heart, mind, soul, mixed into me, mixed into you, mixed into the earth, mixed into God. Life
When someone asks me about ingredients i always think food but maybe there is more to ingredients than just the quality of my meal. If i really want ingredients, what would I use them for?
Am i looking for food or just a pass time to fill the empty void in which i live in.
Ingredients.