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 |  The Three Chickadees won the Grand Prize in the WdC Birthday Blog Relay |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is a blog created as part of the Three Chickadees Team. We are participating in the WdC Birthday Blog Bash hosted by "The WDC Angel Army"  and "Invalid Item" . ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hey, can you believe Team Chickadees won the Grand Prize? There were, like, a hundred teams! Uhm...err....uhhh... Lornda says to tell the truth. That's just like her! Gosh! Takin' all the fun out of tellin' my story. "Hey, Lornda, haven't you never heard of adding a little color to yure story?" During the ten-day blogging contest the "baton" was passed from one team member to the next. We would get the prompt for the day at midnight, and we had 23 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds to submit our entry. ~A.J. Lyle~   won three out of the ten days.warriormom won two out of the ten days. Lornda  gave her all against some tough competition.((Rumor has it that there were some sympathy votes for poor little Chickadee Pat and her sprained hip.)) My winning entries were: "Invalid Entry" "Invalid Entry" But in order to get the full enjoyment you really must read "Invalid Entry" FIRST. It's a sequel thing, you know? |
| Prompt: A Birthday of Historical Proportions On the evening of October 21, 1843, Alfred sat beside his brother at the dinner table. "Alfred, you are ten years old, today! What will you do with your life, son?" His father was genuinely interested. "Well, sir, I can think of nothing but to be an inventor like you. I want to give the world things it has not yet dreamed of." "Then, you must work hard at your studies if your mind is to reach into the realm of what can be."  On the evening of October 21, 1853, Alfred sat, once more, beside his brother at the dinner table. "Father, may I accompany you back to the factory after dinner? We have a large order of explosives to be sent to the battle fields." "You may, son, with my gratitude. It is your 20th birthday, and you are concerned about our soldiers." "Yes, father, and about the safety of those transporting the explosives. I am working on a safer way to transport them." "That would be a blessing, son." Alfred sat alone with his parents at the dinner table on the evening of October 21, 1864. At thirty-one years, he wore the face of one much older, somber and burdened. He could not force himself to have even a bite of dinner, much less a slice of the apple pie his mother had baked for his birthday. Since his brother's death in an explosion at the factory, he spent all his days determined to prevent such a useless waste of lives. Alfred spent his thirty-fourth birthday in his laboratory, studying his latest invention, dynamite. His creative genius, his sharp business mind, and his strong determination made him a multi-millionaire. Still, he found little solace in either the inventions or money. When his father stopped by, Alfred expressed his frustration. "Father, what good is all the money if I can't give something meaningful to the world?" " Alfred, think of all the many inventions you have given the world!" "Yes, and think of all the lives our explosives destroyed. My intent was to make explosives safer, more useful. I never intended to make war more horrid and cruel." On October 21, 1895, Alfred spent his sixty-second birthday with his attorney. He instructed him to draw up a will, leaving the majority of his massive fortune to establish a foundation. By his direction, it would award men and women from around the world prizes for outstanding achievements in the betterment of mankind. Though he established numerous award categories, the most famous became The Nobel Peace Prize. Alfred Bernhardt Nobel spent his life trying to make the world a safer, better place. After his death, his wish to promote those ideals lives on, over a hundred years later. ***The historical information is based on facts obtained from various reference materials.*** ***The birthdays are purely speculation.*** Word Count: 477 |
| Prompt: One Too Many "Lornda! You've got to hold her up a little better. Her foot is dragging the floor." Joy grunted as they hoisted Pat up a little higher and made their way to the dressing room. "I told you, dear. That high kick at the end of the routine is getting to be a little too much for you." "Okay." Joy grunted. "Sit her down gently. That's it." Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Are you okay, Hun? Can I get something for you?" Pat assured Joy she would be fine after a little rest. "I'm not going to let a little thing like a sprained hip stop me. You know me better than that." "What I know is that you cannot possibly go back out on that stage anytime soon. Three weeks bed rest, minimum." "Joy, just when did you get a medical degree?" "Since the last trip to the emergency room, when the doctor told you to slow down. He encouraged you to stay active, but said the dance moves might not be so good for your joints." "Why don't both of you just say what you're thinking? I'm getting too old for this." Her feathers were ruffled. One too many times she had pushed herself as a young chick, wanting to prove her talent to the world. A pulled muscle here, a torn ligament there, a couple of broken wings. Once you had a few years under your belt, they all came back--everyone of them--to remind you of your youthful foolishness. "Look, girls, I promise to let you know when it's time to replace me." "Replace! Don't talk like that, silly girly!" "Yeah, Pat, you know no one could replace you!" "You girls might as well face facts. I can be replaced, and you darn well know that, but I'm doggone sure I've got another kick or two in me. I just need a couple of days to nurse this nuisance of a hip. Then, I'll be out there, good as new." "What about tomorrow night's show?" "Well, girls, I've been thinking about that. There is a young rookie that could use some practice while I'm mending. That is, if you girls are willing to help a young chick get some experience." Lornda and Joy knew exactly who Pat had in mind, and she was right. Kaylee was good. She had the agility and tenacity, but that wasn't enough in this business. You had to grow an extra layer of feathers if you wanted to survive. Stage life was a tough life. She would have to build the stamina to work long hours and deal with wise-cracks from leering roosters. Yeah, Pat was right about that one. She had the markings of a winner. Lornda broke the silence. "Well, hun, we better get you home so you can rest that hip. The sooner you get better, the sooner we Three Chickadees will be back out there in the bright lights and the whistling throng of fans." ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Whew! 499 words after wheedling my little chicky masterpiece. |
| Prompt: A Forgotten Birthday "No, Joy! For the last time, I'm not going out on that stage with her!" Pat's voice cracked, and a tear rolled down her cheek and over her quivering lips. "What are you talking about, Hun? Lornda's one of the sweetest gals I know." "Sure! Take her side." Pat folded her arms across her tiny chest and glared at Lornda before turning away from them. It was times like these that put a strain on their relationship and their booming careers as the number one song and dance team in Vegas. "How could she forget? After all the years of waiting tables and working crowded night clubs for chicken feed." She plopped onto her chair and grabbed another tissue. She remembered the day they all celebrated their success by ordering matching chairs and dressing tables with The Three Chickadees carved into the drawer. Lornda, hands on her hips and determination written all over her pudgy little face, planted her small feet firmly in front of the store owner. "Now, listen honey, we are the famous Chickadees. Our signature color is indigo. Not blue, not purple, not violet, but i-n-d-i-g-o. Be sure those chair cushions are indigo. Should I spell 'Chickadees' for you, or are you familiar with our work?" A thin smile crept across Pat's face as she felt the excitement of that day. "Okay, Joy. I'm willing to listen to Lornda's excuse for forgetting my birthday. Today is the second day of September, and I haven't heard one word from her about my birthday." The dressing room erupted with laughter as Joy and Lornda looked first at each other, then at their sad little friend. Lornda reached Pat just before Joy, and they 'huggled' her with all their might. "What? Why are you laughing at a time like this?" This time it was Lornda's soothing voice that explained things. "Sweetie, TODAY is September first." "But Tuesday was August 30th. I'm sure of it because I had the interview with Oprah." "Yes, dear, you're right. And yesterday was August 31st. That makes today your birthday." Joy's even tone calmed Pat down. "But you called me last night and wished me a happy birthday." "I called you at 12:01 Eastern Time. I have my cell phone set for our flight from Atlanta as we make our way to perform for Prince William and Lady Kate." "Ah, honey." Lornda squeezed Pat's shoulders. "You know I'd never forget your birthday. See, look at my cell phone--"Pat's birthday. Reservation at Kiya's Koffee House after the show." "Oh." Pat sniffled and dabbed her swollen eyes with a soft tissue. "Gee, girls. I guess I'm the one who forgot my birthday. I'm awfully sorry about all this and quite embarrassed, I might add." A satisfied smile stretched across her crimson face, and a cackle of laughter filled the room with the warmth of true friendship. "Okay then!" Joy recognized the noise from the Va-Va-Va-Voom Vegas Show Room as that of a full house. "It's showtime!" ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Whew! Word Count 499 |
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Thanks Joy, and all you guys! I was just hoping for "not embarrassing." 
Connie