In no particular order, the following are pictures I took on my vacation in Point Pleasant Beach New Jersey. I can’t seem to pick just one photo, so here’s a random sample. There will be more to follow, with more words attached.

beach1Point Pleasant Beach

beachbirdsSeagulls staking their claim, proud and unafraid

beachburnMy sunburned legs after a few hours on the beach (sunscreen #90)

beachcastleSandcastle someone left behind

beachcastle1Entrance to above sandcastle

beachcrabsIt’s not Summer without a bushel of crabs, the rest are in the pot, giving their lives for our dinner

beachfeetMy feet trying to stay away from the sun. Didn’t work.

beachgullLone seagull strutting his stuff.

beachpenguinsPenguins at the Aquarium

beachpenguins1More penguins hanging out


beachshark1Sharknado 2

beachstormStorm rolling in

beachstorm1Yet another storm rolling in, this one accompanied by a tornado warning

Because everything.
Can’t watch the news because it’s full of shit and non-news, editorial views now pass as headline news, journalism is dead and Politically Correct runs the world only it’s running the whole damn thing into the ground instead of letting the happy shine through.
Or as Giles put it in both the first and last episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, “The Earth is Definitely Doomed.”.
I’ve been writing and writing and not posting, saving everything to draft and hating everything I write between running up and down the stairs twenty times a day to mess with the router/modem/anything internet related since obviously Mars is still in my retrograde. It’s exasperating to stop my flow of thoughts because those stupid white bars keep showing me the yellow triangle with the exclamation point and just as I finally get back online my phone rings again because my Dad wants to tell me what’s on Turner Classic Movies for the seventh time that day so I grit my teeth and pretend I’m really glad he told me and yes of course I’ll be watching it thank you very much and yes I’ll talk to you later.
Of course my train of thought is gone and I forget what the hell I was about to write which, of course, was the most brilliant thing ever written except now it’s gone forever. So I save to draft and pray for a miracle.
I want to write about the fun, the good stuff, my vacation to the shore (including tornado warnings and much rain), the awesomeness of finally meeting in person (even though I arrived fifteen minutes late because the library was so big I couldn’t find the right room – plus I had to pee. Shut up, it’s a long ride from Carteret!)then leaving (too early for my liking) to go to my niece’s baby shower (where I stood for the most part because that’s what I do) while my feet were throbbing from the inevitable sunburn I got down the shore regardless of the number 90 sunblock I used – the fair Irish skin might have something to do with that but it sure didn’t make any of my shoes less painful.
Dental appointments to fix the root canal a previous dentist had botched leaving 3 root tips and a foreign object in my gums weren’t very much fun but at least I finally found the root of that problem and that was totally an unintentional pun.
And did I mention I’m a routine kind of girl who hates when my apple cart gets upset and my usual go-to’s are gone? I mean even the television shows that make me happy are on hiatus and if that freaks me out imagine how freaked out I get when my usual crutch gets pulled out from under me and I’m nothing but a ball of confusion?
See? I’m a lunatic when I don’t write and I stupidly let myself not write.
Bad, bad, me.
I need to get back to my routine of writing every day and stop putting everything in draft and stop putting every damn person in the world ahead of me. I’m going to have to start getting a little more selfish and stop letting every thing else pull me apart like taffy.
That, my friends, is the easy part. The hard part is actually doing it.
The sand is running through the hourglass faster each day. It’s past time to kick it into gear and get on Team Me.
I also want a unicorn.

{July 26, 2014}   Fiction Rally – Part Three

Part 3 of Fiction Rally courtesy of the most wonderful Reclining Gentleman! Read, (catch up on the first 2 parts if you haven’t already),enjoy, and Part 4 will follow soon.

The Reclining Gentleman

At last, the third instalment of this new(ish) Fiction project.

Soon there will be a homepage  and a summary but for now if you want to catch up on the previous two chapters, click here for part one which I wrote and here for Joanne’s part two.

And now, part three…

The hiss of the carriage door’s pneumatics and the glide of the mechanism which slid it open were engineered to be quiet, unobtrusive, as silent as the technology of the day would allow. But to Daniel, standing over Jennifer and carefully reaching for her bag, they were deafening. With a practised calm, he withdrew his hand, stepped away from her seat and as the train conductor walked through the newly opened door, Daniel was casually seated on the opposite side of the carriage, his eyes and his attention on the blackness of the tunnel.

“Tickets please,” the conductor announced…

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{July 21, 2014}   Selective Amnesia

let me spin the wheel into the past,
so i can feel your mouth on mine
for the first time,
see the fire in my eyes
mirrored in yours,
feel your hands in my hair
as you circle for the kill,
i wanna forget,
not everything, but a little bit here
and a little bit there,
a do-over of a sort,
not for any reason really,
just to relive the pure pleasure,
the newness of it all
and the shivers you spread
through every cell in my body

In the spirit of truth, justice, and the Girl Scout Code of Honor, I’m loopy right now due to another dental visit and the subsequent pain-pills needed to keep me from putting a stick of dynamite in my mouth to stop the pain of, well, everything I guess but lets stick to the subject at hand. Err, mouth.
So I didn’t sleep very well last night, in fact I woke up every hour inbetween little bursts of weird sleep leaving my mind to wander weirdly.
Like, is there television in Heaven?
Because all the shows I used to watch with my Mom, I now watch through her eyes and wonder, did she get to see Nene’s wedding and does she get to watch Almost Royal? Is she keeping up with all the fake reality shows we used to love to snark about together and does she have any pull to make sure that Orphan Black eventually gets some recognition since the Emmy snub happened again?
Is she hanging out with all my relatives and does she know that everyone in the entire family except me can’t stand my Dad and I’m the only one helping him out?
Is she happy that I spread her ashes in Cape May and did she send the snow when I did so to remind me of our last trip together when it snowed so I wouldn’t feel so sad?
Does she know I found the Birthday Card she bought me before she died and how much I treasure it?
Is there something I could have done to keep her here with me longer and it is it my fault she died? Does she know I blame myself even though my head knows there was nothing I could do?
Does she know I keep dreaming about her dying in my arms as we both sob?
Does she know I have so many questions that will remain unanswered?
Does she know how much I miss her?
Does she know how much I love her?
I’ve decided that yes, there is TV in Heaven. And yes my Mom knows all the things I wonder about. And yes, someday I will see her again and all my questions will be answered.
And yes, someday, Mom and I will once again watch TV in Heaven and snark away.
In the mean time, I think it’s time for another pain pill.
And please excuse my ramblings, I’m getting back to me slower than I thought.
But I shall leave you with this: betcha’ by golly wow my Mom is up there right now trying to fast forward through the commercials.

{July 7, 2014}   Weak Week, or, Reasons

My life is a consecutive round after round of ugh.
Not a good old fashioned 18 holes on a real golf course round, you’re more likely to find me on the miniature golf course just putting my way from tourist hole after tourist hole. Which, by the way, I kick ass at mini-golf. But I digress.
Although I have a feeling nothing I just wrote makes any sense, I also have a feeling you kinda know what I mean; I’ve been blech for longer than necessary and it’s got me all out of whack.
Abscessed tooth when my dentist is on vacation?
Driving my Dad to a doctor appointment with above mentioned tooth problem when the “real feel” temperature was 109 degrees?
A combination of antibiotics, excess heat, pain medication, and who-knows-what-else causing me to hurl repeatedly like a 15 year old drinking an entire bottle of some kind of awful alcohol?
Ok so you get the idea, I’ve been having a shitty week which in turn has kept me blog-less and yucky.
Who the hell wants to read about my combination of ick? Not me.
I hate this feeling, when your body betrays you and says “yo bitch, I’M the one in charge here, not you” then proceeds to show you just how in charge you’re not, by spewing once again. And I know a big part of it is the damn antibiotics I’m taking but I kinda have no choice; they are helping me while making me sick at the same time.
The last thing I want to do is write, but the only thing I want to do is write.
I’m neck deep in conundrum-ville which isn’t even a real thing but I’m feeling so yucky I can’t care.
I just wanted to say hey, poke my head up into the World of Pressed Words and give a big old belated All American Happy 4th of July to my American friends, an apology to my British friends for previous traitors in the 17-somethings (can you tell I’ve been watching Almost Royal?) leading to a tiny bit of division amongst us which we crass Americans celebrate with fireworks and burnt meat.
Confession: it’s taken me several days to scrape together these few words. I wish I could say it was writers block that kept me away, that sounds more dramatic and tortured artist-like than stupid sickness but that would be a big fat lie.
So here’s the deal:
Antibiotics? Done.
Pain meds? Done.
Weak week? Done-(ish).
Catching up on my writing? Same as me, a work in progress.
It’s long past time for me to jump back into the pool of words swimming in my brain and get back into the writing groove.
Hopefully, at the least, I’ll remember how to doggie paddle, if not, I’ll just float.

et cetera