Posted in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Weekend Coffee Share, Writing in Freedom

Unsettled for #SoCS and #weekendcoffeeshare

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that things here are unsettled. Unsettled skies, where sunshine is replaced by overcast, or torrential rain, and then, in moments, sunshine again. We’re expecting storms tomorrow.

I’d stop myself before I get too far into the unsettledness of things, because I forgot to make sure you’re comfortable. I know, I know. The house is a bit unlovely in its chaos; there’s that unsettledness creeping in again as I caution you about that big box and tool kit waiting to ambush you on the other side of the kitchen island. I’m hoping they won’t be there long, but maybe your toes will be a little safer in the living room. I’d suggest the yard, but, with the unsettled weather, your coffee might get inadvertently watered down out there.

OK, the living room it is. Don’t mind those game boxes by the green desk, or the impressive array of items on the other desks surface and hutch shelves. The games have been cast off; I’m intended to purge them, and haven’t yet. The overloaded desk is a testament both to my newly twelve-year-old’s expansive nature and her growing maturity – it used to be that all her projects and plans in progress happened on the floor, creating an ever-shifting obstacle course. Now she’s – somewhat more contained.

She had a doctor’s appointment this week, and her kitten did, too. That was parts of Monday and Tuesday taken up….and then, that brings us to Wednesday…

Ah, Wednesday. The If Only Paradox day to end all days – except for July 25, which brackets the other end of the lifetime of our second child, Elijah James, who lived only 12 days of 2003, all of it in a hospital NICU.

That’s a lot of unsettled. If Elijah had lived, Annalise would never have been conceived.

I can’t imagine life without my daughter. I can’t imagine life with a second son who would now be 13. I can’t imagine the now-teenage girl who received his heart valves not having them.

I’m reminded of a line from Hamilton….

If we were having coffee, I’d see if all this heavy stuff has made you ready for a refill yet. I know I can use one – because Wednesday brought even more unsettling this year than it usually does. So let’s refresh our drinks, and then I’ll tell you about it.

My Accomplice was fired from his job of nine years on Wednesday. He’s a chef; the restaurant owner isn’t, but his son, newly graduated from college, has been working as one in another state. Essentially, the owner wanted a change of direction. My Accomplice did all he was able, attempted to explain why the impossible was so, and continued to offer his decades of experience.

But owners have the final say, and a son looking to relocate won out over a seasoned chef.

For the first time since our daughter was a toddler, we’re at loose ends in the work world.

We’re unsettled, but adjusting. Weighing options, and feeling simultaneously weighted down and liberated. I’ve been out of the workforce since my oldest, almost 15, was of school age, to focus on homeschooling. But the kids are older now, and less emotionally reliant on me. I’m learning a great deal as a writer, and I’m moving closer to the day when I might be able to earn a modest living with my words. I’m still two or three years from being close to that point, though, so it won’t help us right now. I may decide to take part-time work – so that I can still focus on my family and writing, but also contribute.

As for my Accomplice, that heavy box and tool kit are his personal belongings from the restaurant kitchen. He’s been taking steps to launch a business of his own, around his work schedule, for the last several months. Today, he went to Massachusetts, a three-hour drive, to take a certification exam he needs in order to market his hot sauces, and, eventually, his jerky.

Again, it may not be a viable option right away, although his path is more concrete at the outset than mine is.

We’re still working all of this out. Life will look very different, but change does tend to equal growth, and, with our children nearing adulthood, and a cross-country move in our future, this is about as good a time as any for us to grow and change.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I’m not sure where we’re headed, but I do know that we’re doing it together. And, someday, we’ll be looking back from the other side of this challenge, remembering what it used to be like, back then.

This post does double duty.  Its my entry into  Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where the prompt is “If/then” – beginning with “if” and using “then” in the last sentence for bonus points. At the same time, it’s my #weekendcoffeeshare post: go see Diana at Part-Time Monster for more cups than you can drink!

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Parenting, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Unschooling, Writing in Freedom

The Sweetness for #SoCS

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: ‘concentration,’  used any way we like.

Still Silly After All Twelve Years!

The Sweetness

There are so many things I could write about concentration – but I’m pretty worn out today. Why?


Well, because yesterday (Friday) my daughter turned twelve, and she and I spent the day out together, doing some light shopping, eating croissants and sweet treats (a cake pop for her; a slice of pumpkin bread for me) at Starbucks, then hanging at the mall and going to see The Secret Life of Pets on a very crowded opening day. After that, we hung out eating food court pizza, then grabbed a few grocery items before finally heading home.

I can see generations of my family’s women in her young face. And a sparkly, impish nature that is all hers!

I always try to make my kids’ birthdays special, and I feel it’s important to concentrate on making them special in ways the kids want them to be. But I am not fond of shopping or hanging at the mall for myself. So I’m a bit tapped out today.

Croissant Love!

It was probably more important this time around. Next year this girl will be a teen. This is like a magical threshold year, when she transitions from, as she describes herself, my “medium kid” to a big one.

Growing up happy.

And then there are the things happening in my country, things that hurt my soul and make me wish for a magic wand that lets all people see beyond bigotry, that gives better conflict resolution, that gets right to the root of what’s wrong, so that it can be untangled and set to rights. I have words to write about that, but they need time to rise to my surface.

First time riding in the front seat beside me. =D

For now, though, I’m just going to concentrate on the sweetness in my life, because I think, somehow, that there is power in it.

With my favorite girl in the universe for the last twelve years running.

So here are my pictures, and a few words to go with them. Maybe they’ll offer you some sweetness, too.

Focus. Much as i love her smiles, she’s lovely when she’s fully engaged in a project. Here, she was making a music dub video.

Did you enjoy this dip into the Stream of Consciousness waters? Come join in – there’s plenty of room, and just a few simple rules. Check out the #SoCS hashtag, or get more SoCS!

Because why WOULDN’T you have your picture taken with a giant cat in a blue tie when it’s your birthday?!
Posted in Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Weekend Coffee Share, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom

Writing in the Weather: #weekendcoffeeshare and #SoCS

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I’m very happy you’re here, because both the weather and my writing are unsettled. We’ve got thunderstorms and a tornado watch active on this first day of July. A bit less than three hours from now, that will expire, but we’ve had three thunderstorms already. The first was the fiercest – it came with hail nearly the size of ice cubes, and rain that made seeing to the end of my backyard impossible.

My daughter doesn’t like thunderstorms, and, due to the rotation of the storm and our basementless house, I felt it was wise to wake her, although she’d been up all night and well into the afternoon, when we were listening to Hamilton together.

I packed a bag with essentials, in case we needed to head off to emergency shelter.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that this post began its life scribbled in a notebook that will fit easily into my computer bag. I decided to delete the last page or so, but, even though its now late Saturday evening, and it’s taken me longer to get back to this than I wanted or expected. That was due in part to the storms. All that turbulence led to a disruption in my rhythm that was followed by neighbors setting off fireworks. After all the thunder and lightning, I thought there was more weather chaos happening.

And then I’d tell you that I feel like it’s been too long since we visited like this. I’ve been writing, and plotting, and planning – not so much blogging. That always seems to be the thing that gets left behind when the creative surge tugs at me. I miss being here, chatting with you. Eventually, I’ll work things out so that I can both indulge my writing passion, and the one for connecting with others.

If we were having coffee, I might show you the notebook that currently holds all the relevant materials for my current novel-in-progress, The Far Shore. I might show you my emerging character work for the next novel on my agenda, Tsunamis. I’d tell you that, once these are added to A Rising Tide, which I finished drafting last week, that makes six novels drafted for my Kifo Island Chronicles series. It’s a solid start toward my goal of having the first dew novels ready to publish within a few weeks of one another, with more in various stages of production.

I’d tell you that I’m getting much faster at the writing phase of this venture. Now that I’ve done some research into story structure, and experimented with open-ended plotting methods, that part is moving along more efficiently, and I’m even getting faster. I try a new method for each year’s projects, and keep the best of each for my own. So far, I’ve explored Rock Your Plot, which I’ve kept quite a lot from, and The Snowflake Method. I’ve adopted a little from that, but, on the whole, it wasn’t a good fit for the way my mind works. I don’t see that as a waste of time; learning what doesn’t work for me is as important as learning what does.

This year, I’m loving my work with The Writer’s Coloring Book. I’m going to be keeping a lot from this – maybe nearly all. I love the way it engages both sides of my brain, and I get to play with color-coding, which I absolutely love. Like RYP, there’s a lot of layering, and a strong focus on developing characters before plot. Since everything I write is character driven, I find that approach intuitive and delightful. And both are open-ended enough that, although I end up with a solid outline and understanding of the story’s “bones,” I’ve got lots of room for the story to unfold and evolve, so there’s still plenty of surprises.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that the part of the process that takes the longest, right now, is revision. I don’t know as much about it, but I’m learning. I’m gradually rough-editing Sea Changes, the first installment in the Kifo Island series, so that I can submit it, scene by scene, to my local critique group. After that, I’ll compile all the notes, and devise a revision plan I’ll be working on in the early months of next year (I’d like it to be sooner, but time is a finite resource…)

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that writing is not an avocation for sprinters! It’s more, even, than a marathon. It’s more like a decathlon!

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I appreciate your letting me rant a bit before I dive back into the writing. I’d also tell you that this post is both part of Diana’s #weekendcoffeeshare over at The Part-Time Monster Blog, and Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: ‘long,’ used any way we like.

I’d also ask you to forgive me if I wander off into the worlds in my head. Feel free to finish your coffee; writers just do these things, sometimes…and sometimes we post random Hamilton clips, because it’s Independence Day Weekend, and because, well…Hamilton!

Posted in #8Sunday, #RevofKindness, Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Travel, Unschooling, Weekend Coffee Share

Class, Kindness, Coffee, and Hamilton: An #SoCS #RevofKindness #weekendcoffeeshare

If we were having coffee, I’d try to take a nice deep breath and relax while you’re here. But I’d have to admit that I’m feeling the press of time’s passage, today, and apologize for the fact that I’m rather scattered and rushed today.

In order to get some things done, and hopefully with some sense of relevance, I’m making this post due triple duty, or maybe even a little more than that. It’s my Stream of Consciousness Saturday post, which makes allowances for the scattered and unedited nature of this post. Today’s prompt is “class.”

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I loved school. It was there that I first learned about Alexander Hamilton – that he was a Founding Father, the first Treasury Secretary, and that he was on the ten dollar bill. I also learned that he was killed in a duel by Vice President Aaron Burr. I may have heard that Martha Washington named a tom cat after him, or maybe I heard that later.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that my own children, now just shy of 12 and almost 15, had ever had a history class. They have, however, been to Philip Schuyler’s house in Schuylerville, NY, right around the corner from where their dad works. We’ve watched magical puppet shows on the same lawn where Alexander Hamilton may have walked or watched his own children play (Philip Schuyler was his father in law.) We’ve attended an Eighteenth Century Day on a summer afternoon where we watched weaving, sheep shearing, quilling, and soapmaking. My daughter tried her hand at candlemaking and stiltwalking, and my son was fascinated by medical leeches.


The Schuyler House at dusk, July 2010.

We have a different kind of life, as unschoolers. My children can learn about Alexander Hamilton, and the world he lived in, in many ways, even if neither has thus far been thrilled by my recent fascination with Lin-Manuel Miranda’s breathtaking musical…I hadn’t made the connection between Schuyler and Hamilton until my son stopped to read the sign as we were leaving from that puppet show.

How my kids learned about the duel…

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I value this life where learning comes not from classes, but from all the directions our lives carry us. It’s organic and unpredictable and not at all within my control. Daily, something one of my children says, or does, or creates, awes me. What they know, they know. They don’t know it to pass tests; they know it for their own reasons, and use it for their own purposes.

Leeches at the Schuyler House!

It’s very cool. This week has been busy with kid travel. My daughter had a sleepover at her best friend’s house. My son is on his first out of state trip without me, to a boys’ only birthday party. I met his friends halfway, and, before that, we stayed up all night, talking, and going for a long walk, and I was quietly amazed at this child I gave birth to, who is now an intriguing combination of almost a man and a great big goofy puppy with oversized paws and ears who just gallumphs joyfully through life.

A curvy dipped candle fail, but a cool experience nonetheless. August 2013


It was a long drive home, all alone. It had been a long time since I had a long drive solo – and I listened to Hamilton and enjoyed -until my new Bluetooth speaker cut out, and, without the boy who excels at the tech stuff that flabbergasts me, I ended up at a rest area, trying to work things out.

If we were having coffee, I’d mention the car I noticed next to me, with an elderly gentleman in the passenger seat, and a young man maybe in his 20s behind the wheel. It was a casual kind of noticing, because I really wanted to figure out the speaker (I did, but not until I was home again.) When the car pulled away, I was occupied, but when it pulled back in and the passenger attracted my attention, I was a little surprised.

Stiltwalker in Shadows…

He had a story of having left his wallet and cell phone at a rest area a few hours before, and being without funds, not able to find the person who could help him relocate his lost items. They said they were headed for Syracuse, and we were still considerably south of Albany.

He was willing to give me contact information if I could help him. I had only a small amount of money – perhaps ironically, a ten dollar bill with Alexander Hamilton’s portrait. I could have assumed this was a scam. It happens.

But, instead, I gave the man my ten dollars, and said it wasn’t necessary to share information or repay me. In the end, I figured that kindness trumped purpose. I don’t need to know if their story was true, or their gratitude genuine. I’ve been in dire circumstances, and there have been times when a complete stranger came to my aid.

Kinetic Still Life at the Schuyler House

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that giving the money to those two men was also an act of kindness for myself. I set aide the speaker, and popped in my Jewel CD, and sang my way home.
I’d also tell you that this post is my #weekendcoffeeshare entry, and that it’s also my Kindness Challenge Week Six post, where the theme is “Inspired by Kindness.

Given this post, it seems only fitting to share this, from last Sunday’s Tony Awards.

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Challenges and Contests, JuNoWriMo, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Marketing my Writing, Novel Excerpts, Sexuality and Erotica, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

She Was Numb: A Rising Tide (Kifo Island #5 WIP) for #SoCS

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: ‘the letters mb, in a word’ used any way we like.

This month, I’m participating in JuNoWriMo, a 50,000 word/monthly challenge. I decided to combine this with #SoCS, and so we have a pivotal scene from my novel-in-progress, A Rising Tide, the fifth of my Kifo Island novels.

Linwood Forrester suffers from dementia, and today, we delve a little into the twisting paths of his memories and reality as he dances before a rising tide in a tropical storm. Other than typos, the imperfections remain as testament to the creative process. I had an open-ended outline, but this scene was spontaneously written.

This story is R-rated, with sexual references. NSFW.

She Was Numb

Linwood danced the Ghost Dance. It was the dance he’d danced the first night he planted himself in Water Whispers. The night they’d conceived their Teddy – Theodore Roosevelt Forrester.

“Teddy!” The cry broke through the chanting song, destroyed the dancing, so that now the sands were sucking at his feet, his gnarled feet at the end of gnarled legs.

Something about Teddy, but the Trickster had poisoned his mind, and he couldn’t remember. It was important. But Linwood couldn’t remember.

The water was rising.

Water hadn’t risen; hadn’t spoken to him, had embraced him with the high stone walls of her anger. He didn’t remember what he’d done to anger her, and she wouldn’t talk until he made it up to her.

But the trickster said that she was dead.

“Where is my Water Whispers? Where has my Water gone?” He sang it out strong, through the monsoon rain and the killing lightning, but he wasn’t afraid. Why should he be? If Water still lived, he would find her, even in this storm. If she was dead, then let him follow after, as he had so often followed after her.

But why should he believe Wilma Carmichael about anything? She was the Trickster, Kokopelli. That he remembered. And four hands on four breasts, stroking and rubbing –

He started to harden there in the caress of the welcome rains – but he wouldn’t let that happen. No. Just another way to keep him from Water, keep him dumb and helpless to save his marriage, so that she could sweep in, sweep Water up in her rising tide of dark desires that can live only in the shadowy places. She’d gnarled his hands and feet, made his braids silver. Was it she who had numbed Water to his caress, this morning, and brought him here –

Linwood stared through the driving rain, seeing into this morning, into the welcome womb of their bed. Water had been cold. He’d covered her with a blanket; he remembered.

But now he remembered more. The smell; strange, clinging to clean salty air. Salty, like tears. It was the smell of rotting flowers, and he’d decided to pick her some more.

But he couldn’t find the flowing falls with their travertine ledges and their ferny and flowery places.

He’d covered Water with a blanket, but she’d been numb, never moving –

Linwood was driven down on stiffened knees, the numbness of rock gripping him as the waters surged in, soaking him, and the sand sucked at him.

Never moving.



Did you enjoy this dip into the Stream of Consciousness waters? Come join in – there’s plenty of room, and just a few simple rules. Check out the #SoCS hashtag, or get more SoCS!


Posted in Blogfest Entries, Challenges and Contests, Coffee and Conversation, JuNoWriMo, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Marketing my Writing, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Weekend Coffee Share, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom

To What Do I Owe the Pressure? #weekendcoffeeshare and #SoCS

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I’m looking at my caffeine intake as a little bit more than just enjoyable, this week. You see, on Thursday night, I had a migraine – one of the worst I’ve had in the last few years. Caffeine tends to help, but this one was stubborn and nauseating, and no fun in all kinds of ways (it’s hard to find the fun when breathing makes your head throb with such sick fierceness, you’re sure you really wouldn’t mind if it went ahead and imploded, because at least then the pressure would be off…)

If we were having coffee, I’d realize by now that that’s not the best way to greet you while you’re standing on my blistering and chaotic enclosed porch, and I’d belatedly stop holding the door open, usher you into air-conditioned comfort, and ask you where you wanted to sit. I’d also apologize for being low on anything you might want to sweeten your beverage with – my Accomplice will be re=provisioning us when he gets home from working in a broiling kitchen. It’ll probably be a tremendous relief for him to wander the air-conditioned store aisles.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that the headache didn’t exactly go away, but it’s been no more intense that moderately annoying and uncomfortable, so there’s that.

There was also inspiration in the midst of the pain.

If we were having coffee, I’d share how I realized that I was imposing arbitrary pressure upon myself, because I had a preconceived notion of how I was going to achieve my novel-length writing goals.

I am letting go of that, and finding new ways to look at and move forward with less stress and more acceptance of my humanity and limitations. It feels good!

If we were having coffee, I’d notice that you’re looking a little confused. Maybe I wasn’t as clear as I could be. It’s like this:

  • I want to write three new novels in my Kifo Island Chronicles series this year.
  • I’d slated April for the first, June for the second, and July for the third, to coincide with both CampNaNoWriMo sessions, and JuNoWriMo.
  • It was a great plan – except that I didn’t take into account my last-minute decision to go for a “value-added” Blogging From A to Z April Challenge, and submit a longer version of my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction vignettes on (another long-time goal has been to share some of these Trek stories I’ve been scribbling in notebooks, then shoving into cupboards, since I was 13 years old.)
  • Perhaps predictably, some of these stories went into thousands of words, and, in order to post them on time for each day’s story, I also had to do a decent job of rough revisions.
  • That took over, and I didn’t get quite to the halfway point of A Rising Tide, the April Kifo Island project.
  • Now it’s nearly June. I’m just past the halfway point in ART, and I’ve been writing a Story a Day this month, exploring the characters and elements of the next two novels, The Far Shore and Tsunamis. I’ve just gotten underway with the planning; the plotting comes after a good deal of character work, for me.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that, up until the migraine from Hades put me out of commission for a few hours, I was very stressed about all this. The pressure in my head was a potent signal of the pressure in my mind about all the things I “had to” get done.

If we were having coffee, I’d grin and tell you how happy I am that I realized it was all too much, and too rigid.

Now, I’ll be counting the words I need to finish ART as part of my JuNoWriMo 50K word count. That means I can be moving forward with the goal, and with the planning and plotting, without driving myself into further migraines, or even grumpiness. If I plan on having the plotting done right around the time I finish the current draft; I can start writing that one within a day or two of finishing ART (I do need a bit of a breather to reset between drafting projects. Then, once I’ve settled into The Far Shore, which I’ve slated as my June project, I can start the character work for Tsunamis.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I still expect to finish three novel drafts by the end of July, but that this feels like a much saner way to do it. I’d exhale deeply and fully, take a good clean breath, and ask you what you’re working on, and if you’ve ever let self-imposed deadlines make you as crazy as this one made me!

If we were having coffee, I’d remind you to check out the other wonderful #weekendcoffeeshare posts at the hashtag, or by visiting Diana at Part-Time Monster. I’d also say that this post is part of #SoCS (Stream-of-Consciousness Saturday). The prompt was “press” as a word or part of one. You can find the rules here, and other posts at Linda G.Hill’s blog.

If we were having coffee, I’d walk you out to your car now that the heat of the day is easing a little. I’d point out the lovely rhododendrons, and promise to have sweetening supplies the next time you pop by! Until then, some musical sweetness to cap off your visit…


Posted in Blogfest Entries, Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Marketing my Writing, Sexuality and Erotica, Story a Day May Challenge, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Whoa, Wait – What? The Kifo Project for #SoCS and #StaD Day 21

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: ‘break/brake,’ using one or both, any way we like.

Why, hello there!

No, you’re not imagining it. I’m here for the second week in a row! OK, so that might have a lot to do with combining prompts with another challenge:

Let me tell you a Story A Day, all May long…

In June and July, I’ll be drafting two new Kifo Island novels. I know something about 5 of the 6 point of view characters, and I’ve got a sketchy idea of the plots – but I need to learn more about these people and their stories.

So, in May, I explore. Every day, I’ll follow the prompts in A Month of Writing Prompts 2016. I’ll play while moving through my planning efforts. Some of these stories may become part of the eventual novels, but my goal is to invite these characters to show me who they are and what they want – and how their lives fit together to make a novel.

I wanted to get this post up yesterday, but the story felt like it wasn’t quite right. I set it aside and slept on it, and today, I was able to figure out where to go in revisions.

The daily prompt is, A Classic Story-Starter.” You’ll find in in the opening quote. I thought it was going to go in another direction, but, in classic stream-of-consciousness style, it went somewhere else.

Week Three is our Rescue Week – some easier prompts that offset the challenges behind and still ahead.

Zeke and Yvette are in bed together for the first time…needless to say, this is an R-rated story. Potentially NSFW.

Whoa, Wait -What?

Huh,” he said. “I didn’t think that could fit in there.”

“That’s what she said.” Yvette reached up and tangled her fingers in his curls, pulling him in for a close, tight kiss. “But no more talking, now, mon chere. Now is time for l’amour.

Zeke focused on the kissing. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, and she was a hell of a woman. He was desperate to put an emergency brake on the urge to just plunge in and let himself go crazy.

That was no way to treat the woman he loved.

Whoa, wait –


Love? Did he? Did he love her?

The question floated there in his mind, in their tangled-up breaths, sighs, and moans, as they learned how to give and take pleasure together…

It floated there as they strained for every last crumb of ecstasy, and as she fell asleep in his arms.

Zeke held her as though she might break, like there was no greater treasure in the world, and he knew.

He was in love with Yvette Perrault.

And she was another man’s wife.

Did you enjoy this dip into the Stream of Consciousness waters? Come join in – there’s plenty of room, and just a few simple rules. Check out the #SoCS hashtag, or get more SoCS right here!