It was Ray Bradbury, in his book ZEN IN THE ART OF WRITING, who taught me about making lists of words and turning them into titles. If you haven't read it I highly recommend it.
For no particular reason,
today's word is:
Waffle

In which we dress up as one of the nine muses and pretend we're Greek.today's word is:
Waffle
The Waffle House
Wet Willie the Waffle Whiffer
Waffle Misses Monkey
Waffle, Waffle, Who's Got the Waffle?
Waffling Waffles
The Awful Waffle
To Waffle or not to Waffle
Waffle Has Two Meanings
Waffle, Waffle, Who's Got the Waffle?
Waffling Waffles
The Awful Waffle
To Waffle or not to Waffle
Waffle Has Two Meanings

Waffle Misses Monkey
Sometimes a long ago memory arises out of nowhere. It pops up while you're doing the dishes, searching for that lost sock, or watching TV. The thing you're doing isn't the trigger that releases the memory -- like a helium balloon rising out of the dark depths -- it's something else, something mysterious and metaphysical.
I've wondered, when it happens to me, if the person who has suddenly come to mind isn't thinking of me.
Such was the case the other day when Monkey's face swam up from the depths. Intelligent and well read -- studying psychology -- Monkey was not a GQ model. He wasn't homely either but sat somewhere between the two extremes. He'd acquired the nickname in elementary school because his large round ears stuck out from the side of his head like a pair of wings, and though the name was meant to be derogatory, Monkey made it his own.
What he didn't have in dashing good looks he made up for with dashing chivalrous behavior. He was kind, humorous, attentive and I fell hard. Because I loved waffles he'd occasionally bring them to me at work, or made them on a Sunday morning. It's why he called me his Sweet Waffle. Our friends even introduced us as Waffle and Monkey, always a good conversation opener.
But youth, being in a constant state of flux and change, doomed our relationship from the start. Our parting had nothing to do with anything either of us did, it was just the way things were. He went on to get his doctorate, and I was left behind.
So thoughts of him took me by surprise and for a moment a sad, wistful melancholia settled around me and held me close. It was warm and comfortable. I'll always remember Monkey with fondness.
"Waffle misses Monkey," I thought, and wondered if he ever missed me.