Even with the fans going we wondered how we could ever WANT to smoke meat ... in Hell's kitchen.


We got there early and set up; being meticulous as to where things were and when they were due.  My turn-ins were at 9p and 9:30p for "Anything but" and "Dessert"; both first time categories for us.  I was REALLY nervous but I tucked that under my cowboy hat and opened my bacon. We prayed the sun would sleep early.  The kids made fast friends and seemed to forget the wavy hot air that broiled them.  Cheech and I got chimneys going, and I began prep work while he cracked a beer.


As we got comfy we realized I was missing an ingredient so Cheech decided to walk up to the convenience store (not Wawa...for those of you  "in the know") to get it.  I slid bacon into the smoker and began to work my magic. I hoped they would like my stuff.


"There is a storm coming." someone said.  I looked at the sky and saw it.  It didn't look too bad from where I was standing; in the middle of a parking lot surrounded by tall metal poles and big metal barrels.  The wind kicked up.  I flipped my bacon and cracked a beer.  Hell's kitchen was smelling rather inviting and tasty.  I decided I would stay.  ;)  Who can resist the ultimate meat candy? Really.   But just to be safe, we had filled ten gallon buckets and placed them at the four corners and rain flaps were hung, but I couldn't worry so much. I had to chop nuts for dessert.  I heard the rumble and called the kids in.  It's what we mother hens do; oh yeah and checked my bacon.  Ooo ! It was done so I pulled it off and puttered.  "Just a quick shower..." I tried to think, so hard my eyes watered.  I saw heavier clouds and darker skies; smelling rain above the pecan and apple woods and wondering if there could be a rain delay at a BBQ contest.  Lightening seemed to decisively vote "yes".  A chubby lil biscuit in a golf cart drove by and drawled:


"If y'all don feeyal safe? Thar ees a breek bildin....ova they-re...." vrooooom away she went like a speeding umpaloompa.  


I felt safe. I had my bacon and dessert. There are so few grand staples in life.
 But then then there was this wind.  I don't mean "Ahhhh I was hot and that is a fresh cool breeze. Thank you God." wind. I mean it crackled tree tops as it stomped across the sky, marching directly toward our little tent town to kick it apart. It began to snap and bend some tents, sending equipment scurrying across the lot for shelter; maybe the breek bildin.  Other tents looked like fair balloons as they meandered away or kites that were afraid and confused, just hopping from one gust to another.  And then Mother Nature opened her fire hydrant.  Sheets of rain poured on us, stinging our skin through our clothes and  causing us to gasp and spit in the blustery mess.  I felt the tent begin to shift.  I saw the table take a few skittish steps.  Cheech wasn't back yet and I didn't know what to grab first.  My portable kitchen began to puff and shake.  Decision made.  I grabbed one of the legs just as it began to run. The top pinched and pulled, the flaps beat angrily against the tables like a trapped bird and with one loud "Whoosh" they flipped tossing everything into the air .  My bacon took flight and resembled skinny bats.  The kids ducked and grabbed another corner but the tent kept marching, threatening to dump us all down the hill into the small creek that was rushing by in its own hurry to find better weather.  One of the guys from next door came out of nowhere and grabbed the other front post and at last I heard what I was waiting for "I'm here ..." Cheech made it back.  So we stood and we pushed back against the rain and wind.  We  whooped and hollered "Is that all you GOT?" and that nasty mess rolled right  over us.  With soaked clothes and pelted skin I asked if my mascara had run.  Then I began to sing "I can see clearly now the rain is goooooone...." We all laughed and began to reassemble; handing back pots pans and equipment that had doubted our fortitude.  Looking at the clock, I had just over an hour to get my entries ready.  I started to wash and rewash; beginning again.  I made it.  I got my stuff done.  The kids took a ride with Cheech along with some orders for towels and dry clothes from others near by.  Fires were re-lit.  Beers were cracked and there was an awful lot of toasting.


There was another cloudburst but nothing like the bad Mamajama that had run through earlier. We dusted ourselves off and kept going.  We were glad we did.  Cheech finished 9th in ribs and I was 11th in dessert.  For 47 teams, we were happy.  I was so proud of Cheech's work. We were missing a team mate and that was hard.  He should have been with us to share in it.  (We missed you Baby...)


So now that my feet are pruney in my shoes and I have a chill in this hundred degree heat, I will leave you with this ditty and plan on stopping back here with you soon.


Thanks so much for visiting.  We always have such fun when you do.

Where did this week go? Or summer for that matter!  I'm sorry we haven't been able to sit together this week.  I have been running my rear end off. What day is it and where did yesterday go? I had it in my hand a minute ago...I swear! Today I am here only for a minute.  I am gathering stuff and heading out to a BBQ competition this weekend and some other dashing about town. I will be entering my own dishes this time and am scared to death.  All in the name of fun and Que right? Right. Right.

 Then the countdown truly begins.  I'm going on vacation.  My body is tired and my brain is fried....no different than the rest of the world I suppose.  But in the end, it's about me soooooo..... so there. ;) i will be spending many days in my hammock and on my lake.  But not to worry, I have a ton of writing to do and several stories to flesh out and post.

Let's plan on next week? I'd love it if we could hang out.  I miss you.

Enjoy your weekend.  See you soon.

What You Heard

I swear I was only gone for a second.  I had to put some things in order, clean up a little.  She is so young and tiny; why she'd never leave my side.  She's just a baby; still bobbles when she walks ~ I thought.  But when I came back, her little bed was empty.  I could still see the shape of her in the blankets.  I could still feel the warmth of her in them and I could still smell her.  It meant she had to be close.  Maybe just a silly game of hide and seek.  She loves that game you know.


Of course I looked everywhere; bottling my fear and stifling my panic; hoping it didn't radiate in my calling for her. I glanced outside as I rushed up the stairs, thinking I would perhaps see her tiny form just resting on the porch, but I didn't.  How could this have happened? Guilt began to creep under my skin.  Fear made it prickle.  My pulse quickened and my breath became pants as I ripped through our rooms; peeking in cracked closets and searching under beds.


"Ha! You're Mommy's little prankster Lilly! You win. Come on out now..." my voice cracked with worry.


Silence.  My chest seemed to fill with desperation.  "Where are you Lilly?" The first of the tears snuck down my face.  I swiped at them angrily.  Not now. Not til she was home with me.  I got mad.


"Right this instant Little Miss. EEE~NOUGH!" 


Nothing.  Her brother and sister who were trailing along spoke in fearful whispers.


"Where is Lilly?"
"Why isn't she coming Momma?"
"Is she in trouble?"


My only response was more calling.  I could feel my voice begin to hitch.  The questions hammered inside my head driving stray tears and ugly thoughts.  The stone in my chest was getting heavier.  At last I went outside. I wailed some more but the gusts from the scolding wind seemed to choke me.  My voice was failing.  The kids began to yell too.  We all sensed the urgency in the cold scolding of the darkness.  I strained my ears, willing, DARING the night to try to keep her from me.  I would find my little girl.  Harshly my voice rattled through the air and cracked with pleading.  I raced down the winding driveway to the road.  My mouth filled with her name.  Lilly. Sweet Lilly.  Cars raced by me.


"SLOW DOWN!" I hissed at them as their indifferent heat smacked me; almost knocking me over.  I sat at the edge and listened; tears rushing in full streams down my cheeks.  They were drowning everything out. Then I heard it; the tiniest cry; lost, frightened and unsure.  I screamed her name with renewed hope; clear and strong.


"LILLY! It's MOMMY"


"Mommy?"


Ohhh she was so far away.  How could she have gone so far? I gulped at the night, defying it to stop me now.  My heart thundered as my nerves began to tingle with fire.  Where? Where are you Darling? I will come...just help me a little more...give me a little more.  I'm coming. I promise.


"Mommy? It's so dark here."


My body filled with electricity. My ears pricked up to catch any sound; even a breath.  


"Keep talking Lilly. Tell me what you had for breakfast." I turned to capture the direction of her shaking voice.


"I don't know. I'm cold."  It was a whimper.


I caught it. I heard her shift...off to my right in the woods where we played every day.  I began to clomp through the briers as they tore at my legs.  Branches smacked at me.


"What's your favorite color Baby?" I hollered again.  Her brother and sister were panting now and flanking me yipping for their sister. 


"Lilly! LILLY!"


"I'm sorry Mommy." her voice was closer.  I felt a smile creep into my throat.


"What color is that?" I laughed and began to run.  There was mud up to my ankles and I wondered how she had managed to get here.  


Then her brother ran ahead of me screaming for her.  At last, he had seen her.  We pushed into some bushes and found her crying alone and dirty.  I wrapped myself around her and allowed the rush of the moment to spill over in laughter and tears.  She cried hard me.  We were trembling, simply happy to see each other again. I lead my troop back to the house.




"Honey? Do you hear that?"


"Yeah..."


"It's awful. What IS that wailing out there?"


"Forget it.  It's just an old Tomcat. It'll be gone in the morning.  Go back to sleep."





Silly I know.  It stems from an incident up at Promises:  We found a TINY kitten, lost and wobbly in the brush.  Knowing better than to catch it, we watched as it cried and wandered through the woods; rushing from hiding spot to hiding spot.  It was something I could hear no matter where I was in the house.  My heart was breaking for it, knowing it was too young to survive the night.  At last when the sun was just setting, I heard this wailing.. long and woeful and "adult". It seemed to last forever.  Morning came and the little one was gone.  Perhaps she made it.  I like to hope so... But it made me think of how I'd feel if...

Silence is golden

 As I'm sure you are aware, it is summer. For the last several weeks, my kids have decided that they despise each other and everything each of them does is 1) a crisis for my daughter 2) aggravating for my son.  They are hip high in sibling rivalry/battle ranging from :  You're touching me.  You looked at me. Your breath is near mine. 
To: You were adopted...maybe that's why you smell and Mom only keeps you around so you'll do dishes she doesn't want to.


I firetrucking love it. And do you know what is worse? I find myself getting sucked in...I really do.  I say stupid things like:"


 Nobody can look at anyone ever again" or 


"Hold your breath" and 


"That's not true. I make you do ALL the dishes." 


Then I read on page 115b of my parenting manual that "Silence is Golden."  I am learning to keep my big trap shut and let them beat the holy snot out of one another once in a while.  If someone gets knocked out, it only gives me that much more peace. In the end? It's all about me. ;)


When we signed my son up for camp, it was with rushed ink and happy smiles. I couldn't wait for a little peace in the house; a whole week without my Boo.  I was sick of the whining, the bawling, and the shouting.  ~I needed to stop and give my voice a break.  The day came when we took him over.  He was scared.  I was scared and my daughter was trying to reach the gas pedal from the back seat.  He was quiet and seemed oblivious to our presence or voices; a special trait usually displayed when I speak "mother", so we got him set up and took off.  My daughter was skipping through the woods to the car :"Tra-la-laaaa" and reveling in her "only child" status. I wiped tears from my eyes all the way home.  I hoped he would not be home sick.  I hoped more that I would not be son sick.


It was the best thing we could have done.  He had the time of his life.  He was given an honor award for all the extra help and "duties" he took on; one of ten in over one thousand scouts.   He came home; to my slight dismay, a little more grown up.  He carried himself differently.  He did things on his own instead of being asked ( seventy times or more in the language of "mother") or acting like he didn't know how or where to get started... The stories we were told, not just by him but by his counselors and other leaders; of his kindness and thoughtfulness; well they warmed my heart and reassured me he is a good man; even when I'm not around to remind him ( or maybe... BECAUSE).  We heard how he helped people, was patient, thorough and quick in all tasks asked of him.  It brought me to proud tears, a heavy sigh and a simple phrase:  WHY DON'T YOU DO THIS AT HOME?


It was wonderful to see him and his sister more than just coexisting. They laughed together, nicely spoke to each other and I was witness to it all.  But I sat quietly soaking it in and cherishing the friendship instead of the bantering.  Silence is golden.


We happened to be up north when my "new improved" man walked in.  I was bragging to some friends out on the porch about it.  "He's so different.  I love it.  I hope it lasts for more than a d..."


"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! STOP TOUCHING ME"


"I'M NOT TOUCHING YOU~" 


"Ew! You smell. Did you forget to shower last week?"


"Smell? No way! That's your dragon breath!"


"MOOOOOOOM"


And so I was left no choice. I got up and fixed the problem.


Silence IS golden.
Duct tape is silver.

Missing

This is brief because I am in search of a solution; for my perpetual toddler. OI!  She will put me in the ground before I turn .... older. ; )

As most of you know or have experienced personally; my Nubian Princess, Birdie has WS: Wynona's Syndrome.  She's a klepto; a pickpocket and a sneak.  I suppose it is our own fault (as most parents blame themselves when the problem has progressed) When she came to us, so mistreated and abused, we understood that she would hoard.  However, we only now see the magnitude of her distress.  Here are some instances:

My father had come for a nice visit and was packing up to leave.  He began a hunt for his brush that lasted a good twenty minutes until I was brought into the loop that he was "missing" something.  Upon checking the cave of the suspect, I turned up with it.  She was caught, red pawed with the handle ALMOST in her mouth but the look that came was one of:

 "WHA???? I would NEVER bite this.  It is Pop pop's and we love him.  I was PROTECTING it from the chubby sloppy one who sleeps over there and snores a lot." (I guess I forgot to mention she dimes her brother out regularly.)

 I want to explain to her that healing an addiction comes with the first step: admission.

Next we have the ongoing book bag battle.  This involves my son.  Daily, regardless of where we hide or hang it, she riffles through it, steals his wallet and gnaws on it.  It is thick leather so it must just be frickin DELICIOUS.  I had no idea.  I am going to send that tidbit to Survivorman.  If you are stranded? Your leather wallet can double as jerky.

Of course we can NOT skip my daughter.  WS strikes usually at dusk here.  The criminal will sneak into the bathroom, nose-open the shower door and steal: shampoo, razors, and her personal favorite; soap.  Although bubble-farts ARE funny and DO in fact stink less than regular "air biscuits" ( It brings whole new meaning to Coast's catch phrase: it IS an eye opener all right....) it is frustrating to hear the incessant crunching noise coming from  Ali Babba's cave knowing full well, she's enjoying the not so fruits of her "labor"

And at last, the assault of assaults.  Mine.  She has discovered that she enjoys my bathroom immensely.  It is apparently a jungle gym crammed full of tasty delicacies.  Why just the other day, she climbed up on the garden tub, walked a narrow edge to the corner sink where she jumped and "went shopping"  She got my toothbrush, some make up, MY brush (she gave Pop pop's back begrudgingly and with only a few distinguishing marks.), a small lotion and toothpaste.  THEN after stashing that for later, she went BACK and opened the cupboard where she tilted the trash, stole some old dryer sheets, a boogie tissue and ... .an entire PACK of soap bars.  In the process she knocked over the blue mouthwash and it spilled all  over the counter.  I have the FRESHEST, MINTIEST bathroom on the block. Firetruck.

Thank you Birdie.

And she sat quietly in her tiny dark cave with all her loot and loved us.  When I called, she refused to come. It was the dead give away that she's been prowling. Silence.  Upon discovery, she lowered her ears and gave the most beautiful "doe eyes" nosing my mascara back to me as consolation.  I thought I heard her chuff "Winston had it" .

But I can't seem to find him...he's miss...
DAMMIT BIRDIE!



Silliness.
We'll catch up after we use up all the sun in store for us this weekend.  Enjoy and thank you for coming by to see me.  I appreciate it.

A peaceful Breakfast with Ethel

"Good morning." he said cheerfully sitting down at the table. His sleeping shorts hung loosely around his tanned and wrinkled old bones. He broke wind and scratched his lower back.


She glowered at him but said nothing.  Her white hair looked like unflavored cotton candy.  Her hands gripped the skillet she tended tightly.


"Nothing from the song bird this morning?" his voice strong and happy.  He slicked his sparse hair back and sat down groaning as his body protested to the angle of the kitchen chair.


She puttered aggressively at the oven, fixing a slight breakfast as her powder blue flannel nightie billowed and shimmied.  


"I'm hungrier than that."


"I'm not." she said flatly


"Do you say then, I have to fix it myself?"


"I don't care if you ever eat again." her tone was filled with disdain


"What flew up your nose? Why the gripes old gal?" His head tilted like an inquisitive puppy


She dished angrily and set a single plate down before herself.  "YOU are a thorn in my side Samuel." she spluttered through thickly buttered toast, waving it like a conductor with one eye squinted shut.


"I really don't get to eat?" he rubbed the place where a plate would normally sit filled with sausages and eggs. He frowned, pouting like a child and patted the neglected space.  Determined not to let Ms Ethel "Crankypants" ruin his good start;  "My headache is gone." he said  hoping to change the mood with some good news.


"So what. I have a backache AND a stiff neck." she cocked her head for emphasis and shovelled another mouth full.


"Do you want me to get you some medicine?"


"No."


"Call Doctor Evans?"


"NO!" She slammed down her fork.  He jumped startled. "I have too much work to do because of you."


"Me?"


She rolled her eyes and shifted.  Realizing she had made such a dainty breakfast and it was already gone, she was sad  that she hadn't made more; sausage at least.  She would need the strength.


"Can I help you?"


"You've done enough already Sam." She sighed and cleared the table.


"I had a strange dream last night Ethel." he said softly.


"I'll just bet."


"Do you want to hear it?"


"No."


"Can I have breakfast?"


"No Sam."


"Why not?"


"Because I'm tired of you, you ground up, whining little man. I'm tired of serving you, hearing you and seeing you. " she wrung her hands impatiently on her darkly stained apron and stormed out leaving Sam alone still petting the empty place in front of him.


"Can I have lunch?" he called after her hopefully.


"NO!" she wailed and dashing down the hall, slammed the door to the guest room where she stayed for a long time. Sam didn't venture in.  He just wandered around, tinkered with the clock he loved and played solitaire. Finally she ventured out . Ethel looked stony and numb. He stayed seated on the old navy and green plaid couch listening to the radio.  He loved oldies. Dean was his favorite.


"Ethel?"


"Yes Sam." her voice was tired and thin.


"Do you want to hear my dream now?"


"No Sam. I have to go to work in the yard."


"I can come with you and keep you company."   He wanted to tell her his dream.


She sighed warily and walked out the creaking old screen door.  She picked up the shovel that perched attentively like Excalibur in the garden soil and began to work the dirt.  She pulled weeds, turning it all by hand, humming softly.  If Sam had followed her, he'd have seen the smile that was so rare for her these days. The ground scratch at her tools and rolled over like an eager pup, black and rich for her attentive gentle hands.  She was sure to have a beautiful garden this year.  Picking what simple vegetables were ready, she lugged the small clothed basket back to the house.  Sam met her at the door.


" For Supper?"


"No. Dinner."


"Can I have some?"


"Sam, no. It's time for you to leave. We go through this every day."


"We do?"


"Yes you old fool. You can't stay here. You can't eat here. You can BE here." her voice was rising to a shrill cackle.


"Why Ethel?" he asked simply.


Her shoulders fell and she seemed to crumple under the weight of the question. Her white fluffy curls flopped in exasperation across her forehead.  Her green eyes turned to the floor.


"You're dead Sam. You've been dead for...forever it seems." 


"Dead?"


"Yes Sam."


"Gone? for good?"


"DEAD! GONE! KAPUTZ! NO MORE BREATHING FOR LACK OF LIFE!" Ethel's tone reached a maniacal crescendo and ended with a bitter laugh. "Dead. Sam is dead."


"Dead." he echoed. "but how did I have this dream Ethel?" 


"Oh Sam." the tears were streaming down her cheeks. "It wasn't a dream."


"But it was Ethel. I dreamt that you shot me and took the money from my checks and buried me out ..."


"In the garden?"


"YES"


"Yes." she chorused. He stared at her incredulously. She made no motion or effort.


"Ethel?"


"Yes Sam."


"Then why can you hear me? Why can we interact? Why can we..."


"BECAUSE I'M DEAD TOO YOU OLD FART!" Her fists clenched in rage and she shook with uncontrollable fury.


"Dead?" The concept seemed new to him.


"Jeezus Sam. Yes."


"How?"


"You simply drove me insane.  When you were alive, you were such a weak, simple man who could do nothing for himself and I simply needed your money.  I wanted it to run away from you; from everything you touched and all that we were; which was a sad pittance.  Once you were in the damn ground, I realized I would never be rid of you.  Every day you would come to me and want breakfast. Want to talk. Want Want WANT.  I WANTED PEACE SAM. So I hung myself in the guest room and as a joke, God has left us here together." She scratched at her neck impatiently.


Sam saw for the first time the deep copper stain on her apron and realized it wasn't dirt from the garden.  He noticed the purplish wound around her neck. Looking around his kitchen, he saw the disrepair; the peeling paint and warping tile.  He smelled rot.  The sun sadly turned its back and slunk into the comforting folds of night.  He was suddenly very tired.


"Maybe tomorrow will be better Ethel." he yawned and headed for the stairs.  "A good breakfast is always a great start to your day.  We'll do that; start over tomorrow Ethel." He silently glided up the tattered steps to his room and closed the door.


The shadow of a woman leaned weightlessly on the wobbly chair and bowed her head.  Yes. Tomorrow.  There was ALWAYS tomorrow.






This one cracked my kids up. They loved it so I had to post.  I like it too.  I needed to work my conversation abilities anyway.  I hope you enjoyed it.  Nothing really too surprising or twisting about it, but fun in its own right.  Thanks for visiting.  I enjoyed your company.

DECIDING

She wanted to see him again but only his memories floated behind her eyes at night.  She also wanted it to be only on her terms and so she would sigh heavily, resigned to the fact that it would never happen. She tapped her pencil daydreaming alone in her back office, enjoying the break from the tedious and most hated part of her job; paperwork. She sighed again and rubbed her temple, attempting to chase the headache sneaking in under her glasses.


It was nothing to hear the door to the office even in these off hours and since no one called out, the assumption was made that it was merely one of her coworkers who would know that she was back in the lab.  It was the first part of the month and everyone knew where she'd be.  She usually began moping the week prior.  She continued to scan the reports and compare notes, ignoring the footsteps.  Only when he cleared his throat at the doorway, did she stop.  Her body sensed him before she turned to confirm it.  She felt the color drain from her face and was certain her knees had suddenly become filled with hot lead.  She placed her hands on the table to steady herself and hopefully catch her jaw that had fallen open.  On what felt like baby giraffe legs, she stood and stepped over to greet him feeling that a handshake was the only thing appropriate but he pulled her close and whispered in the crook of her shoulder;


"I've missed you."


Her mouth quivered into a smile though it felt full of sawdust and the flush in her cheeks was deep.  Words raced inside her head: "Every single day we've been apart, I've cried just a little."  Squeezing his arm and blinking back tears, she pulled away and began to shuffle papers until her composure was reset. She said nothing and sat back in her chair.  Cocking her head she looked at him as if he were one of her studies.  She let him begin the conversation. For the longest time, it was polite.  They laughed and she truly enjoyed their time catching up.


"What happened?" he finally asked quietly moving to her side of the room


"You don't remember?"


"Does it matter?" his wan smirk was disarming.


"To me it did.  You did." The last part caught in her throat softly.  She grimaced and looked down, wishing instantly she'd not said it.  She knew better than to give him any more of her emotion. She held her breath forcing herself to focus on the pain he'd caused.


He took her hand and looked right into her heart.  She could not pull away feeling the warmth of his touch.  He moved forward and got down on his knees before her.   He reached for her skirt and pushed gently, coaxing it passed her knees to offer only a peek at her muscular tanned legs. He slowly inched her off her chair,  his hands cradled her against him, holding firmly her backside.  He dropped his head and hastily unbuttoned her blouse, tugging at her bra so he could taste more intimate flesh. His hand raced under cloth; shoving and tugging to get at her.  But upon reaching her, he slowed and was more gentle, cautious. Stroking the most intimate parts of her patiently, he felt the first wave of her need as it caused her to buck against him; her entire body tightening and quaking. He watched her smile softly, relishing the pleasure she took from all of his kisses, words and movements.  She made him feel wanted and strong.  He went weak when she whispered his name.


 She bit her lip and felt her legs immediately tighten enough that she supposed any nearby walnut was doomed. She gasped as he whispered her name along her skin, drowning in the luxury of his soft kiss.  His breath came to her in warm eager puffs as he slid her off the chair onto his lap.   She couldn't think anymore; her thoughts muddled by the pulse thundering in her ears. The hunger growled inside her body and with insistent fingers, she raked his hair and kissed him hard. They explored each others mouths; panting together, wrestling with their clothes.  Her body throbbed with want.  Her nipples flashing pink and erect to the brush of his lips and soft scrape of his teeth. Ecstasy raged through her in shivers and goose bumps She moaned his name and clung to his shape.   She cried out and muffled her moans against him, moving above him with power and desire. She loved how he shifted; eager to meet the requests she made with her body and soft voice.  She never had to ask twice for a touch "like that" loving the hunger in his body when she whispered "please".


They pushed against each other until their skin was slick and warm and they were out of breath.  He smoothed her hair and touched her lips so lightly with his own, that tears fell from her eyes.  She opened them and he saw it.  Sadness.  "Dammit" was what he thought he heard.  Confused, he pulled at her to stay, wanting only to hold her.  He stroked her leg, but she would have none of it.  She juked as if his skin secreted acid.  "Please don't." she said quietly, pulling at her clothes. " Just go. I am such a fool." she was scolding herself more than him.  "This hurts.  You hurt... you hurt." the last refrain came out almost inaudibly but with such agony, he sucked in his breath.  His shoulders shrank and he stared at the floor.


With almost a frenzied embarrassment, she yanked her clothes around her and pulled away.  The lump was forming in her chest; heavy and hard.  She felt her teeth grit and a new flush surged under her skin. Anger. "Please." Now she implored him.  She had made a mistake and gotten so carried away in what once was; that she had set her heart back.  It would have to begin to heal again.  She turned her back to him tugging at herself as if she felt under dressed; naked in a shopping mall was how she felt.


It was his turn to feel remorse.  He bent down and kissed the top of her head smelling her shampoo, lightly dampened with sweat.  He sighed and said  "Let's go for dinner. Please?  I'll call you."


"Sure.  I understand." she mumbled tightly.  She cleared her throat and shuffled papers, finding an excuse to move away from him.


He turned and left her staring blankly at her work.  The tears were warm, salty with regret.  Only after she heard the door close did she permit the soft crying to come and be her company again; always for him.


Her phone rang and she glared at it, remembering his number after all this time.  She didn't speak but acknowledged the call.


"Dinner?" he asked shyly.


 The answer was no in her head.  In fact, it was screaming.  But she asked "Where?"


"You decide."




Surprise! How's THAT for a Tuesday night?  heehee... I've been bogged down with some really sad and depressing research so I decided to cut myself a break and go to the other end of the scale.  We all need a little smut and passion, right? Well, I do anyway. So I have this to share with you for now.  I hope you enjoyed it.  Thank you for visiting.  I hope to spend some more time with you soon.

Well I'm up north and loving every single second in spite of the rain today.  We are making bbq (practicing for a competition at the end of July) and I'm working on my first set of entries; ever.  I am usually just the dish dog and historian for the team while the boys do their thing, but we've decided I need to step into the ring with my little "creations" so I've been practicing a lot and forcing samples on everyone I know.  Who knows what will happen? It'll be fun to try them. We'll laugh more about it as the time nears.

I am also struggling with one of my stories.  I love it but I'm definitely fighting with it; trying to get my research to line up with the twist I want. Bah! A writer's work is never done.  Tomorrow I'll lock myself away and hammer it out but not today...I'm just so busy...Well, throw in that our friends have been with us for the weekend and I've been a little...distracted? Ahhhh. Good times. Great food and wonderful company. Life is so very good here at Promises.  We are so lucky.

I wish you all a wonderful holiday; filled with laughter, fabulous food and spectacular fireworks.  Ours will go off tonight provided Winston doesn't attack and run off with them all.  Little bugger. How he doesn't blow his head off is beyond me.  I hate to giggle and point but there is something about a thirteen pound little sausage galloping around with a screaming firework in his mouth; all the while trying to bark with sparks shooting from his face. I'll just get the burn cream and wipe away these laughing tears of mine...Ohhhh Wee man; you are the bomb. Really. You are. Take cover if you know what's good for you...

Well I need to build the fire for tonight, get the s'more stuff together and begin to bake the beans.  Who needs a beer? They're in the cooler, gang. Help yourself.  We'll begin to eat in twenty minute intervals shortly.  Loosen your belt, take off your shoes and laugh a little. It feels so good, doesn't it?  I'm glad you stopped by just for a minute or two. I've missed ya.

Warm hugs for you my friends.