I grew up in a time when stalking and obsession were selling points for romantic plots. “Oh, look! He wore her down until she said yes. They were surely meant to be together.”
I now live in a time where even writing that sentence made my fingers cringe.
We have learned (hopefully) that stalking is not romantic. Overly obsessing on anything is not healthy. What were romance storylines are now creepy thriller plot lines.
So, to reiterate today’s stance: stalking is bad.
Continue readingJudging from the title of this post you are probably thinking this is the most unnecessariest of unnecessary posts. All you need to do is make a person angry. And I agree with you. In this time of easily offended people a how-to on angering folks may be similar to telling a short person they are, in fact, short. Trust me, a short gal knows she is short. In that spirit of useless advice, here is my sure-fire way of angering someone – anyone in fact.
Continue readingI will admit,
people in Ireland are friendly
no matter which
part of the island you may be.
Continue readingI like to think I’m rather smart. Perhaps, that is a common trait for all humankind to think that on some level. “I may not be the brightest, but I am not some dummy.” Some days I believe it, other days, well, I try to think of other talents I might possess. Think I’m being hard on myself? That’s kind of you but I’m about to share a story that proves my point. Unfortunately, it’s all true.
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While in Waterville,
I walked toward the beach.
I swear all of this did happen
just past the statue of Chaplin.
I went until close to the sea
right up to the water’s reach.
Continue readingLast month was a 5-Saturday month. If you have been a reader of this little blog for more than a minute, then you are aware that on 5-Saturday months I attempt to write a 5-part short story. The intent is to practice my writing skills. Lately, I’ve been a bit lazy. So, my effort in this endeavor is waning. a little bit. But last month, I followed through even though May – as you know – is as busy as December. It tends to fill itself up with activities. Still, I managed to give it a go.
Three things came together and provided the spark of the story.
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Seaman Pete Romero died December 7, 1941.
At least, that was what Amy figured. Since she wasn’t his family legally, no official telegram or notice was ever sent to her. It took her a year to get some sort of confirmation even though when she never heard from him, she knew it had to be true. She spent months rereading every letter Pete had sent to her and attempted to track down anyone he mentioned. Finally, from a merciful clerk at Pete’s training base in California, she was able to locate the cook he mentioned in his last letter. Lewey, or William Lewiston as she discovered, was discharged after he lost one of his legs during the attack. He lived in Alabama.
Continue readingI went to Ireland
to see what I could see.
They said, “You know what is fun?
Stop by Jameson.
You’ll get some whiskey
while on your tour.”
Okay but I am a teetotaler.
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ck's days 