What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?
A month or two ago, my son’s friend brought his cat home for a short visit while he was travelling abroad. Actually it was my suggestion. I was both excited and relieved as a few days won’t form a strong bond between you and your favourite pet—cats.
Cats seem to have an anticlockwise routine, right?
They sleep most of the day, and stay awake all the night.
Perhaps yours is different, but the ones I’ve had the honour to befriend have always followed that routine.
So, when the cat arrived safe and sound, she ran and disappeared behind the sofa.
Expected.
The place was new and so we were.
A few hours later, night fell, and she was still hiding.
I tried to give her food, but she didn’t eat.
I cradled her in my arms, but she leapt away and disappeared behind the same place.
I closed the door and left her in peace.
But there was no peace.
The big fun began—
noise echoed downstairs.
running,
sliding
and jumping.
‘That’s the cat,’ I told my daughter, couldn’t help laughing at her panicked face .
In the morning, we were the ones making the hustle and bustle, and the cat watched us with heavy lids, and half closed eyes.
But by afternoon, she was full of energy.
After stretching her four limbs, and letting out this wide, funny yawn, she jumped and stood onto the windowsill.
Like a hawk, she watched the birds, the flies, and perhaps other creatures we can’t see.
Her tail swayed, and eyes shone as if she was plotting how to catch them for dinner.
A bit later, she tiptoed around the house, exploring every room and corner.
Then she slipped back to her hiding place, curling into her catnap, until it was our turn to go to bed and leave her free to have all the fun she wanted.
Sometimes I wonder if cats can ever skip their catnap?
But I think that would hardly happen.
Honestly if there’s one thing I wish I could add to my routine, it would be the catnap, but then it would be the hardest thing to skip.
I like to think about how, in my blog, I begin to practise creativity, how I find my voice, and how ideas and thoughts start to flow.
It becomes my favourite place in my city of writing.
By the way, I have another favourite place in my imaginative city—books.
You can’t write without reading, can you?
Books are not only for reading with your eyes but also for imagining with your mind.
You imagine characters, and you also imagine their places, their cities, and their era.
Or you may prefer science, philosophy, or even politics, and there too, you’ll find yourself as if you were in your favourite place.
So, wherever you live, in a small or big city, if you pick up a book and really enjoy it, your reading will turn into a visit, short or long, to a special, imaginative spot in your imaginative city.
Just imagine: step out for a moment from the real world, from the actual city.
Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?
So… can we think of the most famous as the most infamous and vice versa?
In other words, why can a celebrity be the most famous, while the teacher, for example, is the last, or perhaps nonexistent, in the list of the most famous?
Can we swap positions, so the celebrity goes down the list and the teacher goes up to be the most famous?
I hope your head isn’t spinning right now, or is it?
Mine actually is.
But don’t you get it?
Some people can be famous but without big celebrations, shiny gowns, best-selling books, or seven zeros in their bank account? They can be the most famous because of something simple yet special about them—something that shines without glitter, something that resounds without raucous noise, and something that attracts with respect.
Wouldn’t it be a good change to think of the famous and the infamous in this way?
You may discover that you are more famous in your own surroundings than those in the media or politics.
This prompt is a bit hard… because … sometimes you have the thing and its opposite. And sometimes you think you don’t have the thing though others believe you do.
Got anywhere so far?
Simply, it’s like being optimistic with sunny spirit, but also having your own heavy, dark moments. Or being quiet with calm nature, but also having your own loud, rumbling explosions. Or when people see bravery in you, while you still hit the spider three times (or more) before moving it to its final destination.
But… what I appreciate in myself and what I believe is, indeed, a very valuable trait, is simplicity.
Complex, complicated and sophisticated feel too abstract, too demanding, and too vain to be part of my life. Even when I decide to make a change and welcome those fancy concepts for a quick visit, things go wrong, or boring, or fake. So, I’ve promised to grant them indefinite leave with no quick return.
Sometimes I wonder how the famous artist dared to use simplicity and sophistication in the same sentence: “Simplicity is the ultimate art of sophistication.” Of course he meant that it’s more complicated to live a simple life than a cluttered one. True. It really takes time to love simplicity especially if you are a complex person. But that’s the point. He should have used… elegance. Or better yet—modesty
What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?
The first thing that struck me as I read today’s prompt was something I truly like about Egyptians, something that can be a special trait or a characteristic that most of the Egyptians are known for. And you know what? Even after living abroad for so many years, I think I still have a bit of it.
Can you guess what it is?
It’s how they carry humour in their talk, how they simply crack jokes in passing comments, how they can lighten what is heavy and simplify what is complicated. To put it simply: how naturally most of the Egyptians can be both funny and witty.
They love to laugh, to spark laughter, and to cherish every laughing memory.
“Why aren’t you laughing? Afraid your skin might crack?” That’s how they react when visiting with someone a bit too serious
It’s always funny when we meet up with Egyptian friends and they try to joke with my children. My children smile which is a clear indication that they did’t get the joke. I stifle my laughter. I cough. I breathe. And then our friends repeat the joke.
My children turn to me: their faces wondering what’s so funny, and their eyes pleading for a quick explanation. I burst out laughing, not at the joke but at their reaction. And then they burst out laughing not at the joke but because laugher is contagious, just like yawning.
And this is one of the most well-known Egyptian sayings about laugher:
“Just laugh, no one’s taking anything from this world when they leave it.”
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
Back then in Egypt, many years ago, when I was just a child, my family used to take two different holidays during the summer. Of course, none of them were abroad; that wasn’t even in my dreams.
The first trip was always to visit my grandparents and relatives in one of the most beautiful cities in Upper Egypt. The train journey took about six long hours. By long, I mean really long, not like nowadays, when time slips through our fingers like water. Still, I enjoyed every bit of it.
Our journey didn’t end with those six hours for my grandparents were living in a small village about a two- hour drive from the city. Sometimes we stayed in the city for a few days to visit relatives, but then we’d head straight to that small, simple village where my grandparents waited for us in their big, old house. We usually stayed there for around two months, but of course, after the first week, my father would take the train back to Cairo for he couldn’t be off work for that long .
Our second long trip was always to one of the quietest and furthest seaside cities on the western coast of Egypt. We always headed there around the first of September, when the weather used to cool down a bit at that time of the year. We stayed for only one week, since school started by the middle of the month.
We travelled there by coach and always with a group of family friends from Cairo. The journey was just as long as our train ride to the south. Excited about the sea waves, colourful shells, and building sand castles, I always looked forward to this holiday, and I never minded the distance.
Strange how, many years later, when my husband and I took our first flight to England, we thought we’d be too far from home. But in the end, that journey turned out to be actually the closest of all.
Things depend on how you feel about a place. The furthest can be the nearest. The furthest can be the most exciting, the most unexpected. And sometimes, the furthest can be home too.
Well… that was the first thought that crossed my mind today.
But don’t you agree that writing is just like cooking?
Let me explain why.
Both writing and cooking rely on talent and taste. And, just like cooking, writing comes in different styles and varieties. Your first attempts at both are usually awful and funny. Day after day, month after month, and years later, you begin to master your craft and savour your own unique flavour.
Have you ever thought about how writing and cooking push all your senses to the frontline when you’re on a mission? Of course they do. Both need colours and flavours, moments of quiet and noise, and the ability to stir some emotions— just as much in your cooking pot as in your piece of writing.
Copy and paste doesn’t work in writing or cooking. Don’t people say the same recipe tastes different when prepared by two different hands? The same idea applies to writing—and what better example than our responses to daily writing prompts? Your dish, as well as your piece of writing, carries your own unique signature, even if you follow all the “should do” and “shouldn’t do” rules.
And then there’s time —this precious and the most needed ingredient in both writing and cooking. Keeping it light is possible in both activities: you can boil a few eggs or scribble a few lines. But when you’re really in the mood to enjoy a good meal or to pour your heart and soul into your writing, you take your time. You wait and, sometimes, you even pray for the right moment.
And, it’s normal … actually, quite common to fall under that lagging spell that hits you like a heatwave. It becomes too warm to eat, too lazy to write. You don’t feel like cooking or writing. This sluggish phase might last a day, a week, but hopefully not much longer. Of course, it depends on how much you enjoy your homemade meals and how much power you have over your mind to pull yourself out of that lethargy.
One more thing worth mentioning about this combination of writing and cooking: it’s the element of surprise. You start with something, but unexpected things happen, which might turn completely different. The rice smells like burning popcorn, the soup thickens like pudding , and the dessert looks and tastes like something from ancient times.
Writing is even more surprising. First, an idea pops into your head, just a mere idea. With sighs, smiles, and knitted brows, you let the thoughts flow and begin to write. When you feel satisfied, you stop. Then you scan your piece again, wondering how and when you wrote this piece.
But that’s what I love most about writing— it surprises you and challenges the writer in you.
And, don’t forget that both writing and cooking like company, love inspirations, and adore compliments.
It’s truly enjoyable to share food and blog posts, isn’t it? As long as both are edible and easy to digest!
Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.
This is the latest news on Pure and Simple Channel, which nobody seems to care a whit about. This is likely because the term “mail service” is no longer in use in today’s world.
Here’s the news; There’s a widespread complaint about mail service across the globe. It claims: “Since the postman left, there hasn’t been an honest message.
Have you heard this piece of news?
Well, it’s just come to my attention that the news was just a saying—or perhaps a quote. FYI, in case you decide to look it up.
Anyway, isn’t that saying or quote so true and insightful?
How is the postman doing in your place?
Well… in mine, the postman shows up once a week, if not longer, and delivers mostly ads, bills, and donation bags. Worse still, it seems no one looks forward to seeing him anymore. Oh, the poor man and the mail posts have become old-fashioned on the road to extinction.
Now, what do you think we’ve been missing since the postman left?
Perhaps the design of the stamp, the scent of the paper, the genuine affections in the words, the smile hidden behind those brief greetings, the longing in between the lines, the long details, the casual sentences, and the unique signature at the end.
In other words— when the postman left, the letter lost its pure and simple message.
Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.
Honestly, the first thing that crossed my mind was Me blogging —in other words, how to be kind to myself as a blogger.
Need more explanation?
I’m like many other bloggers— I love using my voice in writing. I enjoy sharing my thoughts in my own style, and I like taking my time. So, whenever I feel disappointed or lazy or even stubborn about blogging, I try to be kind to myself.
Want to know how?
I pause— sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. During that short or long break, I gently remind myself that I write because I love it. My posts are just like little mental treasures I’ve discovered the day I started my WordPress journey.
And finally, usually with a smile, I say: if I don’t regret any of my writing, if I haven’t offended anyone, and if I’m not chasing anything but the joy of showing my talent—then why stop. That’s when I feel it’s time to fasten my seatbelt and take off—I’m on a writing mission again.
Perhaps it seems odd not to care too much about likes, shares, or subscribers. But that’s another way I practice to be kind to myself. It’s not that I don’t want my posts to be liked or shared — or gain more scubsribers. Is there any blogger who wouldn’t like that? Of course not.
It’s just me thinking that likes and shares would add more pressure. It’s like inviting people over and waiting for them to show up, wondering what if they don’t. So, I prefer to let readers knock, visit, or explore freely — no pressure, no high expectations. And, please don’t be offended if you feel differently because things depend on personal style and preference.
Just remember to be kind to yourself too, and if you love blogging— don’t stop.
Pure and Simple 