After I had a long list, I ran around looking for things that would fit the ideas. My quest took me from the basement to the attic.

There was a box of old dishes in the basement. I remembered we used them when I was little, but Dad kept complaining that they were too ugly to eat off of. So Mom put them away. I hoped I remembered right. I searched around until I found the box. Yup—I was in luck. And yuck—I had to agree with Dad about them being ugly. The plates were decorated with roses. Lots of roses. Petal plate, I thought. Flowers were made of petals. I picked up a saucer and held it near the bag. SWOOSH. That made two. Five to go.

I ran through the rest of my list. The easiest one was cat act. When I first thought of it, I wasn’t sure I could find anything. But Dad had taken me to the circus last year, and he bought me a souvenir program. There was a picture of the lion tamer. That was definitely a cat act. I tore the page out of the program and let it get sucked into the bag. SWOOSH.

In the fruit basket, I found a cheap peach. The price sticker was still on it. SWOOSH.

I figured that was it for the fruit bowl, but then my eyes fell on something else. Mom had bought some tangerines. And, according to the sticker, they were from Argentina. “Wow,” I said out loud as the letters clicked together in my head. “An Argentine tangerine.” I had to admit I was really proud of that one.

That made five. Just two to go. I was on an anagram roll. And I knew exactly where I’d get the last two. I went to the freezer and pulled out the bag of French fries. Mom always bought the same brand: ’Tater Treats. Not quite an anagram if you use the whole bag. There was an extra s. But, take just one, and you had a ’tater treat. Perfect. I pulled out one of the stiff, frozen pieces of potato and fed it to the bag. SWOOSH.

Then I went to my room. I had lots of old plastic toy animals, including a couple of horses. I dug through the box in my closet, looking for the right one. There was this book about a horse that lived near the ocean: Misty of Chincoteague. I had a model of her. Since she lived by the seashore, that made her a shore horse.

“Hay, I’ll sea ya, Misty,” I said as I held her over the top of the bag. “I’m a bit saddle see you go, but Mom’s been nagging me to get rid of my old stuff anyhow.”

SWOOSH.

Made it. Seven anagrams.

This sure had been easier than the oxymorons. Or maybe I was just getting better at it.