My favorite fruit…

Coronavirus Survivor’s Log- Day 28

Sorry about the slow down in the writing frequency…it seems that just like anything else in life- it takes 21 days of consistency to make a habit and exactly 2.3 seconds to break it. Then you got to start all over again….

And all that said, this writing prompt is a way to keep my mind active, and while I love the interaction that I get from those of you who send messages or like the post, I am trying very hard not to turn this into a performance of striving to make everyone else happy. This is about writing…for me…and bringing you along for the journey, so please don’t hate me if I am less than consistent at times. 🙂

Today’s writing prompt is an interesting one…so I thought I would play around with it a bit…here you go:

Make a case for your favorite fruit. Write for ten minutes. Go!

Photo by Maria Lindsey Multimedia Creator on

My current favorite fruit is the Honeycrisp Apple. I mean that’s today and truthfully has something to do in large part to the fact that it is the single. best. vehicle for peanut butter….ever. It’s sweet, juicy crispness is just right for dipping into a big smear of creamy peanut butter. It’s a bit too sweet on it’s own to eat with caramel, I much prefer the bite of a Granny Smith for that, but otherwise simply the perfect apple.

Delicious on it’s own too. Juicy and smooth, but crisp and sweet, it’s flesh is just the perfect consistency. It doesn’t break up or get stringy and caught in your teeth and the skin is not mushy but not too tough either.

Definitely my favorite fruit…today. Of course yesterday I would have told you it was the baby clementine I ate that was tangy and so full of life it squirted all over the kitchen when I bit in…Or the day before that when I had a love affair with these beautiful blackberries. Maybe the day before that when I ate so much fresh pineapple my lips turned red and stung from the acid of them. Maybe I just love the bounty of sweetness that comes from the earth and the truth is I am fickle fruit lover and can’t choose. But as I sit here with my plate full of peanut butter and my last Honeycrisp Apple and tell my husband that a trip to the store is in order because it’s the last one (nevermind he went two days ago for his weekly stock up), maybe today, the Honeycrisp wins out.


Coronavirus Survivor’s Log-Day 20

Crazy, huh? Day 20? Today I walked 8,000 steps and sat for 4 video conference meetings…I actually made a to do list and time boxed my day today. It almost felt like normal. Almost, except that normal doesn’t usually involve cuddly puppies, helping your senior draw the lattice structure of Potassium Oxide, and talking your junior through a pretty graphic nightmare about watching her brother bleed out while waiting three hours for an ambulance. But it is the new normal…and it includes new challenges and new experiences and new and different ways of navigating life.

Speaking of navigating life, today’s prompt is about being lost. So why don’t you write about it? Tell me about a time you were lost. Write for ten minutes…Go!

Photo by Valentin Antonucci on

The woods around me felt like they were closing in on me. Everywhere I looked- the same trees, vines, brambles and leaves rose up around me. The map in my hands was some ancient language known only to the land navigation gods and I had no idea what to do with the magnetic compass that dangled around my neck.

Failure stormed through the back of my mind and stung my eyes with frustration. I was tired…I had been walking for hours. Three points into a seven point land navigation course that didn’t just hold the keys to understanding how to make my way through the woods, but also the all important grade in my sophomore military science class.

I sat down by a tree, wondering at what point would someone come for me. Would they even be able to find me? I leaned my head on my knees and felt the cold of the forest floor seep into my skin through my ROTC issued battle dress uniform. Tears ran down my face, soaking the front of my jacket…I was a mess.

In the distance, I heard a tree branch snap and looked up. There straight ahead and directly through the trees was the fourth marker. Another cadet had navigated his way to it and was writing down the coordinates on the map. I leapt to my feet and made my way to the marker.

Once I reached the beacon, it all made sense. From that location, I could easily make out the direction I needed to go. I only needed a little help to find it. I finished the rest of the course in less than an hour…and learned a valuable lesson.

Sometimes, when you are most lost, you just need a change of perspective to find your way.

Tell me about this morning…

Coronavirus Survivor’s Log- Day 15

Today’s the day! The day everything is supposed to return to normal! 15 days! Wait…what? “The next two weeks are going to be very, very painful…” You mean it’s not over?! Awww….mannnn….

Truthfully, I knew it wouldn’t be. I’m not sure when we will see “normal” again (if ever). Things have radically shifted in the span of really just a few weeks and it does seem like a life time ago since I hugged someone who was not my husband. But, this is what we do…our selfless act of heroism that each of us performs every day…staying home…staying away…staying alone…together.

Today’s prompt comes from my brain and the desire to make this morning normal in some way….So tell me about it…tell me about this morning….use all the senses. Write for ten minutes….GO!

Homemade biscuits. (Hillary Levin/St. Louis Post-Dispatch/TNS)

This morning started early with my usual alarm clock- my little black lab-huahua mix. It starts with a soft whine at 5:40 and escalates to a full on tongue bath at 5:45. There is no snooze for this alarm clock….only a trip downstairs swing open the door and a bowl of kibble for him and his doggie sister. This morning he let me crawl back in bed and snuggled in for the day’s first nap until 7:30.

I rolled out of bed this morning, showered, dressed, smoothed the blankets on the bed. A brief stop by my son’s room to wake him for the day tells me this morning is going to consist of breathlessly climbing the stairs more than once to get him and his sister rolling on their online courses. My daughter is still in isolation, so I merely open her door and holler in “time to get rollin’!” She rolls over and looks at me through slitted eyes. She murmurs something about not sleeping well and I know that she’s gonna need some real encouragement this morning.

I bound down the stairs and start some homemade biscuits for breakfast. My mama always made homemade biscuits for breakfast and the smell of them baking fills my kitchen with nostalgia and happy memories. I set out the butter to warm and jam and honey and skip around the kitchen a bit waiting for the beep beep beep of the oven timer to announce they are ready for consumption. When they come out, still warm and soft and flaky, I slice each one in half and place a pat a butter in the middle to melt, like my dad used to do.

I deliver my warm love to each of the members of our house…just like they like them. Grape jelly for my husband, honey for the kids, and for me…peach pepper jam. The biscuits are soft and melt in your mouth and I close my eyes and enjoy the moment.

And now for something a little different…

Coronavirus Survivor’s Log- Day 10? 11? Yikes! I’m starting to lose count!

I have to apologize for my absence yesterday. I spent the morning at the doctor’s office, which, in and of itself is a surreal experience. It was made more so by the (finally!) diagnosis of a Cerebral Spinal Fluid leak from my nose that I have been struggling with for the past three weeks. It’s a weird time to think about CT scans and non-invasive brain procedures, but better than getting meningitis and way better than the constant headaches, leaky faucet that looks like a nose on my face and deep fatigue that I thought was just a worse than average allergy season. In some way, it comes at a really great time when work has slowed to a snail’s slither and I’m forced to stay home. Anyway, all that to say that the all morning appointment kind of stripped me of my will to move from the couch yesterday, so sorry I didn’t show up for our ten minute coffee and writing date.

Today, I was feeling artsy…mostly because I got to return for a bit to the mural my sister and I have been working on since this summer today…and it got me thinking about the healing sensation of paint under my nails and color on my mind. So I thought I would share with you an art prompt from Shelly Klammer’s Symbolic Journeys class.

I chose to do the collage prompt and combine it with some free form poetry.

from Shelley Klammer, Symbolic Journeys

The prompt is “Night,” and here is what Shelley has to say about that symbology:

The night sometimes symbolizes a loss of faith. Who or what have you lost faith in recently? 

Shelley Klammer, Symbolic Journeys

Here is your mission:

You can Collage: Create a “dark” collage using dark colors, or imagery that feels emotionally dark to you. I’ve done this and added my work down below.

Or you can do a Painting/Drawing: Create a drawing or a painting that reflects what you have lost faith in. What do you most want to have faith in? Is it love, kindness, abundance, or something different? Write or illustrate this quality on top of your drawing.

Or you can stay with the writing theme and answer the question “What do you most want to have faith in?” Write for ten minutes….GO!

Here’s mine:

Night by Cari Kaufman


Coronavirus Survivor’s Log- Day 5

Today’s been long day. Partly because I stayed up too late binge watching crap television, partly because I knew I should be enjoying the sunshine, but couldn’t bring myself to make it outside until almost evening. Partly because I’ve a lot to think about this weekend and I’m wrestling with that when what I really want to do is hug my friends, have coffee and chill on the patio. This wasn’t my best writing. I’ve struggled with the prompt all day honestly, but it is real…so here ya go.

Today’s writing prompt is Fences. Write for 10 minutes.

I’ve never been any good at fences. Boundaries are so hard for me to maintain. I’ve been blessed in the last couple of years to find folks in my life that care enough about me to not only honor the fences I build, but to help me keep them in place. But now, I am faced with a situation that feels so much like a time when I let someone else tear down every fence I built. Without those boundaries, my life was formless. A destructive ooze of lies, and what ifs and someone else’s dreams filled my hours and sucked away all the life. I can’t choose that life again…no matter how promising the offer. But to choose my fences, is to choose life. Is to choose to honor the boundaries that keep my heart safe and stable…is to choose to value the ones in my world who have taught me to care enough about me to hold the lines that circle my world. It is to choose to value me. It’s not an easy decision to hold my fence line…and it is not without consequence, but it is the right one.