Hot chocolate in a computer keyboard dries crunchy. Does that mean it can be blown out as flasky chunks? I’m hoping that is the case, for reasons that should be obvious. New rule. No hot chocolate near the computer.

Please  use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “crunchy.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

8 thoughts on “Crunchy”

  1. In times past, to walk (or stomp) on unevenly iced sidewalks to experience their crunchiness was fun and a pleasure. But now is the present. Crunchy or not, any ice fragment on a pathway is scary. Changes that old age occasions in every life aspect continue to amaze me.

  2. OOPS! I crunched into a pistachio nut and you guessed it: my filling broke. No longer will I be crunching nuts or anything too hard. I’m coming to the realization that with age, aside from your body aging, of course, your teeth do as well. This aging process isn’t for sissies. Seems I’ve hit a certain age last year and have finally “felt” really old for the first time. Old as in the body aches in the morning before you limber up getting out of bed. The fingers ache in bad weather. It seems my hair turned silvery overnight. I don’t seem to remember being concerned about it changing. Ah, well that’s another point: memory. Let’s leave it at that. No more crunchy foods.

  3. “What’s that crunchy stuff you’re eating?” my four year old niece asked as I shoved granola in my face.
    “Granola,” I said, “you wanna bite?”
    “I’m not allowed to eat crunchy stuff,” she said, laughing, “you hafta give me a cookie.”
    “Oh really,” I said.
    “Oh really,” she said, “or else I will get mad.”

  4. It is from the past that I cling on to, the crunchy leaves on my path. They help remind that nothing will ever totally change although everything changes every second. They scare me and they comfort me with that familiar crunch. I wonder why the past matters but it does.

  5. “I’ve never heard that before.” I laughed.
    “Crunchy. Really? What do you call it?”
    I thought about it for a while. Growing up on the west coast, I knew a lot of vegans who didn’t like to wear shoes and always answered ‘yes’ when I asked them to accompany me on an impromptu trip to the mountains, destination unknown. I guess in New York City, I’d be ‘crunchy.’ I didn’t really like the sound of that.

  6. Two giant stone plates, almost as smooth as marble. Turning in opposite directions. Stuck in between are a thousand grains of wheat being shredded into ever smaller pieces. That is the picture I have in mind when thinking of the word crunchy. The epitome of crunchiness.

  7. Every Sunday we enjoy family time by eating. My father, a true southern boy, greets us before we enter the restaurant. Obviously, my 3 year old disapproves of his attire, frowns and says “DY YOU CRUNCHY!” What she meant is “You’re Country!”

  8. Rice flakes.
    Poha dry roasted over sand , patiently, as sand turns black, poha pops into snowy flakes.
    Rice flakes were the breakfast for us and so many people milling around us.
    Dunked into milk, or mish-mashed with thick curd, with red jaggery or plain salted. It could be a staple , or with roasted peanuts , metamorphose into a snack.
    It was the noisiest meal one could ever have .
    Crunchy and satisfying.
    Memories of some of the simplest, earthiest and fulfilling meals of one’s life .

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