Let’s Celebrate

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I’ve had something reconfirmed for me since I’ve been on vacation: I was actually BORN to do this writing thing. I was. Now if I could just make enough money at it to quit my job and do it full time, hey? LOL

I’ve written more in the last 5 1/2 days than I have in TWO freakin’ YEARS!

Yep, this vacation thing certainly agrees with me. It’s been so long since I just gave over to the Muse and immersed myself in his arms that I totally forgot what it even feels like to fly uninhibited through the cosmos. Well, ya know, that and some other essential things that have been lacking in my life and are still going unfilled since August, 2014. OY! This fat old lady is still in search of such fulfillment. BUT……

Now I am reborn and I still have a few days to go on this vacation from the Real World.:)

So I thought I’d share my new-found freedom and exhilaration with you. I did that by putting up new FREE stories.

The Heart of War, Christmas Eve on Olympus, Genesis, and the ENTIRE Doc Series are now FREE until June 1, 2016.

Do you want them? Then hit up my site at http://www.lisabethdarling.com/free and follow the instructions. Just so you and the whole world is aware, NO, these stories are NOT available on Kindle until June 2, 2016. That keeps me out of the dog house with Bezos the Clown. You know, the fucktard who thinks he has total control over my work just because I put it on his site and he gives me a shitty $0.35. Yeah, screw the son of a bitch.

So, if you want them, come on over and get them. They’re all yours. By all means, PLEASE SHARE this information at will. No, you won’t get a prize, there’s no Amazon Gift Card for helping me out here. Sorry. (not really I’ve spent enough money on that crap).

If you want a story…FREE…check it out. Go for it. It’s all YOURS.

Go get you some!

Prodigal Son-New First Draft Chapters

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I’ve decided to reopen this blog for a bit. We’ll see how it goes. I’ve a peace offering for anyone who wants it. Here’s a few new chapters from


As always….ALL Rights are STRICTLY RESERVED.

If there are any original “Nick Jackson” fans left out there….let me know how I’m doing! It’s been a fine line to walk but I think I finally got it right.

Chapter Twenty-Two
The Ballad of Nicholas Jackson

It was a long sad tale and he hadn’t told it for many years. If he wanted that future with her, the one dangling with so much promise just outside his grasp, then he had to tell her. Holding naked body close, praying to the Gods he believed in that it wasn’t for the last time, Nick started his tale.

Nicholas Ares Jackson was born in Athens, Greece exactly two minutes ahead of his twin sister, Colleen. In many respects, the two of them did not have a normal childhood although Nick still thought it idyllic. Calla was a gentle soul, she was very intuitive and empathetic, as such she often fell into bouts of manic depression. One day, when they were in third grade, they came home to find their mother had painted the entire downstairs purple. Not just any purple, it was electric purple. Calla said the color called to her when she was at the hardware store picking up lightbulbs so she bought 8 gallons and did the whole house in a few hours.

Once they moved to the big house in Greenbrier where the property was surrounded by thick woods, his mother could often be seen at midnight dancing naked out under the full moon in the far back of the yard. There Daniel helped her build a stone altar so that she could worship the Ancient Gods of her father’s lineage. He didn’t join in with her, Daniel was an atheist, but he didn’t prevent her nor stand in her way. In fact, Nick thought that to his father his mother might have been one very long archeological discovery, she had so many layers to it would take a lifetime to discover them all. In Greenbrier she was free to practice her religion as she saw fit and it brought her peace she stopped painting the walls purple. She started going back to school and painting on canvas. She graduated at the top of her class at the University of Colorado with degrees in Art and Art History. Within a year she was teaching at the university within two more she was the Head of the Arts Department. She had a small show here and there, she quickly started selling her paintings. It wasn’t long before she was on her way to becoming the newest darling of the art world.

Nicholas Jackson married Annabell Marie Wilkes while both of them were still in high school, in fact, they were married two weeks before graduation just after they both turned eighteen and discovered Annie was pregnant with Kiki. They got a marriage license, went down to City Hall, and that was that. When they announced what they’d done Annie’s mother was fine with it, she’d never been around much for her daughter and probably figured Annie landed herself a good fish. His parents, however, were going through a very tumultuous time in their marriage and were legally separated on the verge of divorce. Calla was heartbroken that she’d missed her only son’s wedding and Daniel was fit to be tied that Nick was throwing his life away just to have something to call his own.

The drama between Daniel and Calla came courtesy of two things; Daniel’s bastard daughter Brigid and Andrew F. Hartley, the world’s foremost art dealer.

First, Brigid was born was three months premature her mother, Onya, who died in childbirth. Daniel couldn’t leave his daughter so he brought her home and confessed everything to his wife. The house echoed with angry voices that night so much so that Nick and Colleen feared violence would break out for the first time in their usually happy home. Daniel spent months away from the family, he’d been weak while he was away and had a brief affair with Onya. He begged and pleased for forgiveness for understanding but most of all for his wife not to turn her back on the helpless little baby.

Calla detested the baby at first, she didn’t want anything to do with Brigid but Calla took the infant in. She found it in her heart to love the tiny baby who had very special needs for which Calla was totally unprepared. Brigid was deaf and mute, she never spoke a word in her entire short life but she smiled brighter than the sun. She gave the sweetest kisses with a great big smacking sound….MUH-WAH! Every time she saw her big brother. Nick loved her, even though his father was an ass, the short-lived relationship had produced the gentlest creature he ever knew outside of his own mother.

Calla and Daniel did all they could at first to patch up their married then Daniel resumed his duties with the military even though there was no need for him to do so. By that time, Calla Jackson was Professor Calla Jackson Head of the Arts Department at the University of Colorado. She made more money than Daniel even then, he could have stayed home and taken care of his own daughter. But he went off on his archaeological adventures.

That left the perfect opening for Andrew F. Hartley to worm his way into Calla’s life, into her bed, and into her mind. But never her heart, that belonged completely to Daniel Jackson no matter what came her way.

Hartley was a soulless unscrupulous creature with rock star good looks and beguiling charm, a man who could truly sell truckloads of ice to the Eskimos for a very hefty price. His only real love was money. In Calla Jackson Hartley thought he’d found the biggest gravy train ever. He was right he refined Calla to make her ready for The World Stage. In so doing, he changed her appearance—gave her a boob job she didn’t need, forced her have her thighs shaved down and her hips made smaller, then he dressed her in fancy duds that made her look like a streetwalker. Thinking the name Calla too plain, Hartley made her use her full name and only that. For a short time Calla Jackson died while Callestah lived and left Daniel Jackson. She moved from Colorado to New York City without so much as ‘good-bye’.

Hartley fed her drugs (pot, psychedelics, and most of all he got her hooked on heroin) and booze, oh the expensive booze flowed like clear mountain spring water in Hartley’s world. By the time he’d plastered her face all over every TV station, magazine, and newspaper until the entire world was salivating over her in skimpy outfits, he made her create her art in the attic of his New York City brownstone keeping her a virtual prisoner when all of them thought she was with Hartley willingly.

Hartley took the art she created and sold it for record breaking prices. As her agent, most of the money went in his pocket and not Calla’s. After all, they did have an ironclad contract that gave him full control over all of her paintings.

It was a sorrowful time in Nick’s life when he thought his whole world was shattered and his parents would never find their way back to each other. That was probably what made him marry Annie, he did love her, to this day she was the love of his life, but his father was right. Nick was looking for stability and a family of his own to replace the one he thought he’d never have again.

While Calla was in New York and then off on a whirlwind tour of the world, Nick and Annie moved into a rundown apartment, he got a job working construction she took one as a chambermaid until Kiki was born. Even though, in retrospect, his mother managed to send him money time and time again much against Hartley’s wishes, their life was hard, temptations were numerous, one night when Kiki was just a baby Nick had a loud argument with Annie over the household finances—again—Nick stormed off to drink his troubles away in a local bar. Sitting there on his fifth double-shot of 100 proof Southern Comfort and wondering now only what he was doing to his life but he’d already to done to it and if it was completely irreparable, he met Raven Lightfoot, a long, tall, cool drink of rich earthy water in a dry desert. With her crimson hued skin, those dark so large he felt he could fall into them, and a body that just wouldn’t quit. The woman had legs from the tips of her toes right up to her neck.

She was warm. She was willing. More than that, she wanted him whereas Annie hadn’t touched him in over a month.

Like Father Like Son.

His affair with Raven Lightfoot lasted two lust filled weeks of the hottest steamiest, down and dirtiest depraved sex, he’d ever known before Nick realized he was in love with his wife and he wanted to make things work with her. By then it was too late, Raven was pregnant but she didn’t tell him. Before she slunk away and he thought he’d never hear from her again she railed at him that he’d be sorry one day. She’d make him so goddamn sorry he chose mousey little Annie Wilkes with the wild blond hair over her, a woman who could never show him the pleasures that she did so willingly.

Then Raven disappeared.

Nick went back to Annie, they worked things out as he’d hoped but he called Raven’s number several times. At first he got voicemail, he left discreet messages that were never returned. Then one day the number was disconnected. Raven was gone from his life.

Nick felt relieved, almost as though the Gods his mother believed in with so much adoration had smiled on him. He thought that he’d never have to tell Annie about his indiscretion. So he didn’t.

A few months later, Daniel Jackson got up off his sorrow ass and went after his wife. He stole her back from Hartley who died a very untimely and mysterious death. When the body was found it was missing its heart. The news reports all stated it was as though someone just reached into the man’s toned chest and yanked it out still beating. Nick never thought his father capable of such a thing but knew his grandfather was. Daniel got her off the smack and moved the whole family to Scotland where they rekindled their romance. Daniel promised never to leave again and tendered his resignation with the military. Calla rebounded, she became her old shining self again, she made more art and her career took off more than Hartley ever dreamed possible.

Annie and Nick fell back in love.

For several years they all lived very happily on the grounds of the Scottish estate with its big 330 year-old stone manor house, cultivated rose gardens where Calla promptly set about building a new altar, and view of the crashing ocean lapping at the foot of 100 yard high cliffs. Nick went back to school and so did Annie, both with all expenses paid courtesy of Calla who doted on her grandchildren; Kiki and Lily (his sister’s daughter) as though there was no tomorrow. Calla thought the sun rose and set in them.

Brigid, though she’d never be what one might consider ‘normal’, flourished under Calla’s love and acceptance. Nick’s most fragile sister became a full-fledged member of the Jackson Clan. No one ever questioned her parentage, not even his grandfather, Ares, who swiftly came to understand just how damn big his daughter’s heart was.

With the proceeds for her the sale of her art, Calla built Nick and his sister, Colleen, warm homes on the estate, homes grander than they could ever hope to buy back in the States. Neither he nor his sister had any bills or worries. Their futures of comfort were assured.

The icing on the proverbial cake came a few years after their move to Scotland, Calla Jackson gave birth to the triplets; Aiden, Amy, and Athena. Two years later, Annie gave birth to Danny and life was good again. It was fucking perfect with the whole family living together on the same beautiful estate.

Nick finished his studies at the University of Edinburgh and graduated with his degrees in Human Anatomy, Art History, and Biology. He intended to become a Physical Therapist then but war broke out in the Middle East and the call to follow his father’s path echoed in his mind. Nick applied to Officer Candidate School, he was accepted, and aced the entire four-year program in less than two. Then he was off, Ensign Nicholas Jackson quickly moved his way up the ranks, all the while believing he was keeping his family and his home country safe. All the while completely oblivious to the danger that lurked behind him.

All the while, in some darkened corner of the Earth, Raven Lightfoot gave birth to Nick’s bastard son whom she named Wolfgar. She raised the innocent boy to hate his father. She twisted his mind into believing that Nick never wanted him. As his family’s fortune grew along with Calla Jackson’s career Wolfgar was raised in poverty left to scrap for his next meal, with the prodding of his mother the boy began to plot revenge.

Upon becoming a young adult, Wolfgar put his plan into action. He wormed his way onto the Scottish estate as a groundskeeper and proceeded to seduce Annie while Nick was on deployment. Then he slowly poisoned Danny. The poor little boy grew sicker and sicker every day. No one knew what was wrong with him and, in the end, no one could save him. Wolfgar stood there by Annie’ side as she wept doing everything she could to save her son, he comforted her, and he smiled. The night Danny died, Annie looked at him, told him he’s was a horrible father who was never there for his family and she didn’t want him around anymore. After almost seventeen years of marriage she wanted a divorce and made it clear she had a new man, a better man, one that wouldn’t leave her so distraught so he could go off and play soldier. Her new lover, a man Nick didn’t recognize from Adam and who had to be Kiki’s age, stood at Annie’s side while Danny was lowered into the ground. He held her close comforting her weeping distraught frame and glared at Nick who seethed in return.

Killing Danny and destroying Nick’s marriage wasn’t enough for Wolfgar. Over the course of a week, one by one, each of Nick’s siblings died. All but Colleen, whom it seemed Wolfgar had taken a shine to and was saving her for another more gruesome fate. Aiden was mysteriously electrocuted on the grounds of the estate. Amy was rundown by a car in town. Athena somehow managed to drown in the bathtub of her very own bedroom. Then there was Brigid, sweet little Brigid who couldn’t hurt anyone even if she wanted to. The most innocent and vulnerable of the Jackson Clan was found naked, battered, bloodied and brutally raped on the grounds behind the manor house. She was seventeen. Wolfgar lured her
into the woods where he tortured her for hours knowing she couldn’t even scream for help.

Still unsatisfied with his bloodlust growing, Wolfgar slit Annie’s throat as he made love to her in Nick’s bed. Leaving her body behind to cool as it soaked the mattress with her blood he slunk out the door of Nick’s house and then he went after Kiki in the rose garden.

Unfortunately for Wolfgar, Kiki wasn’t alone. To this day, Nick knew that must have surprised the hell out of him when he walked through the wrought iron gates to find the rose garden lit up with burning bowls of oil filled with the heady scent of dragon’s blood that billowed like the ash from a small volcano on the altar.

It must have been a hell of a fight between Ares, Calla, and Wolfgar, and part of him was disappointed he’d missed it. If he’d been there ten minutes earlier perhaps his mother and grandfather would still be alive. There they’d been, sequestered among the roses conducting Rituals of the Dead for their lost family members. Wolfgar was unfamiliar with such rituals so he was ignorant to the fact that his great-grandfather attended with a sword at his side and so did his grandmother. Both of those swords were in Nick’s house at this very moment. The sword Ares used to defend his daughter and granddaughter graced the ancient suit of armor and nearly took off Mason’s foot a few days ago. Ares was a mountain of a man, over seven feet tall and more than three hundred pounds of pure muscle, he lived up to his namesake. He never turned away from a good fight and he never lost one until he went up against his bastard great-grandson. Nick had no doubt it was a battle worthy of songs and poems written by Homer himself. Nothing saved Ares. After shooting him several times, Wolfgar smashed the big man’s head in against the side of the stone house leaving him twitching in the throes of death.

It was his mother’s battle screams that brought Nick and his father running out of the manor house and to her aid. Being who she was, Calla charged at Wolfgar with her ritual sword to defend her granddaughter. Daniel made it to her first but he was unarmed and he was never much of a fighter. Calla was small but full of heart, Wolfgar let her over-extend her thrust then pulled the sword from her hands, he turned and ran it through Daniel’s torso. That was when Nick arrived, just in time to see his father go down. With his hands raised in the air almost as though he were trying to surrender, Wolfgar pulled the blade from Daniel’s stomach and cut off his hand before kicking him to the ground.

Before he knew what was happening, Wolfgar grabbed Calla by her long red hair, twisted it around his fist, yanked as hard as he could upward until she was pulled off her feet and then smashed to her knees.


He was too late, Wolfgar dragged blade across her throat spilling her blood on the green grass until it was red.

The angry young man heaved her dying body at Nick’s feet screaming; “How does it feel dad? I’m taking everything from you including your whore mother and slutty wife! I’m gonna get me that bitch too,” he pointed the sword at Kiki who was huddled against the stone altar.


That was when the full force hit Nick squarely in the chest. How could he have missed it? The man looked just like his mother like Raven Lightfoot. “No you’re not,” Nick hissed picking up his grandfather’s sword. Holding it with one hand he beckoned Wolfgar closer with the other, “Come on boy, come get you some.” Nick’s stream of consciousness disconnected from the rest of his body he moved on pure instinct. The two clashed swords, the clang echoed through the grounds of the estate as sparks lit up the dusk. It was immediately clear to his hazy mind that the boy had no idea how to use one. In a grand flourish of strength and skill, Nick sliced open Wolfgar’s chest but the wound wasn’t deep enough. It only served to piss him off. Dropping the sword he drew a gun and went for the easy way out. Wolfgar shot him three times in the chest, one bullet pierced his heart. It should have left him dead on the ground next to his mother and grandfather but Nick hardly felt the sting. Running on nothing but pure hatred and adrenaline Nick kept charging at him striking out with his grandfather’s sword.

Wolfgar’s gun spent and Calla’s sword now too far away from him to be of any use, he drew a Bowie knife. Taking a crouching stance, he kept low as he clutched the knife in his palm holding the blade against his forearm making it part of him rather than extension of his reach. He kept waiting for his incensed father to over-extend his thrusts but he didn’t. Dodging thrust after slash until the air around him whooped like a baby with a bad cough he knew he couldn’t keep this up for long. He had to find an opening, he waited, he watched as he taunted his father and when the split-second came he rushed at it.

Nick stepped back just a little too far and opened his body a little too wide. It was just wide enough to let Wolfgar hurl his body at him, knock his off his feet with such force the sword fell out of his grasp. The precious air in his big lungs was forced out by the merciless vice grip of Wolfgar’s thighs locked to his ribs pinning him in place to the lush grass of the rose garden.

With nearly inhuman determination, Wolfgar stabbed his father five times catching him in both shoulders and upper arms as Nick struggled to keep his neck away from the blade. One long wounded arm reaching out for his grandfather’s sword he grabbed Wolfgar’s sweaty throat with the other trying to push him off but the younger man’s strong thigh clamped harder on his ribs keeping him in place for the kill. The big blade came down for the last time as his eyes locked to his son’s. Nick let Wolfgar stab him. This time the cold steel sliced through his chest and his left lung collapsing it to nothing. There was another piece of cold steel at his fingertips. Knowing it may be the last thing he ever did, Nick’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of his grandfather’s sword, with the last bit of strength he had, he turned the broadsword’s razor sharp blade toward them.

Wolfgar’s dark eyes lit up in surprise as victory was snatched from his grasp. For half a second he unsure of the cold sensation running from his left flank to his right he didn’t know what it could possibly be but then his father turned the blade. The cold almost comforting feeling became the heated agony of a pain he’d never thought possible. As the world around him started to spin he pulled the Bowie knife out of his father’s body meaning to strike him with it again.
The younger man’s body went limp above Nick. When the knife pulled out of his lung he gave Wolfgar a massive shove sending him upward long enough for Nick to relieve him the knife as it threw him back on the heavy steel running through his vital organs. When he fell back down again, Nick sunk the blade into his throat. Wolfgar’s blood spilled over him, it drenched his hands and his face as the hot salty taste invaded his mouth before it covered his chest. Nick kept his eyes locked to Wolfgar’s watching the evil light fade from them, “Die, you bastard, die.” The man who’d taken every single precious thing in Nick’s life, fell atop of him. He was dead. Nick was glad. But all the elation in the universe wouldn’t bring his family back.

There and Back Again

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We set off on a rainy Good Friday. Just before we left, as I was already in the Pathfinder, hubby opened the back hatch and threw our winter coats into it. I said: “I don’t need my winter coat, I have a sweatshirt.”

He smirked and shut the hatch.

Then we set our feet (wheels) upon the road and took off on our adventure, just me and Merry. (I’m Pippin…remember that as we go). In no time, we arrived in Newport, RI. If you like any of the following pics click them to make them bigger. I put them on display here in a smaller size.



All good adventures begin with a good breakfast.

The Corner Cafe



If you’re in Newport, I highly recommend this place and so do the locals. When we got there we waited about 5-10 minutes for a table. By the time we left, the line was out the door. I had rashers for the very first time, they were tasty. I also had chourico sausage for the first time, also tasty. In fact, everywhere we went was so darn tasty that I actually opened a Yelp account just so I could leave them all nice reviews. I figured, I always want people to review my books (favorably if possible) yet I never reciprocate. How rude of me. So I made it a mission to do that, I even left some reviews for local places that I like.:)

Then we were off to the mansions. First stop was the Preservation Society to buy tickets.


I wanted to tour three of the mansions but the nice lady said they were out of three house tickets. I didn’t understand that until we got back into the car with our two house tickets and realized that they were actually physically out of three house tickets. I guess the printer was busted or something. We went to The Breakers first but I’ll show you those pictures second. Never go to The Breakers first, always save it for last because it’s the best. Well, Rose Cliff is a very close second for me but it was closed😦

Welcome to Marble House.

This French style ‘summer home’ was built between 1888 and 1892 by William Vanderbilt, grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt. It, like The Breakers, is absolute filled with depictions of Greek Gods. (Gee, there’s a plus, huh?)

The front entryway. Yes, it is ALL marble and it comes in a variety of colors as you will see.

That’s Hercules in actual gold watching over the dining room. Yes, the marble is pink.

That’s Apollo on the dining room ceiling.

The Graces candle holder. No, not gold, solid brass. Sorry.

That’s the punch bowl. Nice, huh? You should really click that one to see the detail. Yes, that is gold.


The Gothic Hearth in the Gothic Room. White marble.

One of three stained glass windows in the Gothic Room. They were freakin’ gorgeous! The whole house is wonderful and I have over 100 shots of it but I won’t bore you too much longer.

Aphrodite, yes, in gold.

Zeus guards the hearth in this room.


Those are ceilings. The second one is Athena.

We should really bring this back!

That’s the Tea House. Nice.

Let’s go The Breakers now. This lovely ‘summer cottage’ was built between 1883-1885 by Cornelius Vanderbilt II grandson of Cornelius I and brother of William–owner of Marble House. It was, quite literally, built by Cornelius II to outdo his brother’s home. No joke. Check it out.

Nothing says ‘welcome’ quite like a massive wrought iron gate.


That’s the inner-gate. Eight feet from them is the outer doors. I couldn’t get a picture of them because the place WAS PACKED! I was utterly shocked at the number of people who braved a totally dreary Good Friday to go see The Breakers. I should say that Marble House had its fair share of visitors but The Breakers had them lined up out the massive wooden doors and down the huge granite steps.

If you get past the inner-gate and are guided into either Receiving Room (one for men who came to visit Mr. Vanderbilt and the other for women who came to visit Mrs. Vanderbilt) and are then allowed to go up a nice set of marble steps this greets you



Ok, so, if you were to lay the above images end-to-end from first to last you’d get a somewhat decent approximation of the Grand Entry. (Geez, I LOVE this place!)

If you walk down the hall, past the stairs and look up


Here’s a slightly better look at some of the illumination in the Grand Hall.




Ok…short detour…I know some of you think I’m ‘pretentious’ when I add my name and the year to certain pictures I’ve taken. I’m really not. I just happen to be an author who isn’t really ashamed to Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil; these are pictures other people will find at some point in time, in my humble opinion, will try to put on a book cover, card, poster…what the hell ever. Hopefully the mark makes it EASY for them to find ME. I’ve come across a million images on the web that I wanted to use and could never find the original artist.

On we go. Let’s see the dining room

One of a matching set of absolutely breathtaking chandeliers.

Yeah, that’s the ceiling!

Moving on back through the Grand Entry here’s the Great Hearth. it’s always how I envisioned Ares’ hearth in his Fortress on Olympus.


Speaking of…


Ok, let’s say ‘goodbye’ to The Breakers even though I took 125 pictures inside! LOL

We made our way to Fall River where a lovely surprise awaited me! Now I’m so daft that when we pulled into


When we entered hubby said: “Look over there.” Then he walked away.

I looked in the direction where he was pointing and thought I saw a familiar couple siting there. Then I thought: That’s Donna and Al, what are they doing here, what a coincidence.

I felt a slap to the back of my head and heard a groan in the recesses of my mind; It’s not a coincidence. It’s a surprise.

“Merry” had been conspiring behind my back! Donna and Al met us there to help celebrate hubby’s birthday and our 30th wedding anniversary! They brought us champagne, crackers and pepperoni, and a wonderful brush for Yours Truly. A “wet” brush that I love so much I have put in the new purse I bought in Provincetown. We had lunch…it was freakin’ awesome! I highly recommend this place. Even if you don’t necessarily think you like Polish Food, trust me I swear, you will leave as a die hard fan!

We all went to
Where I bought many tasty things. We were all going to to the Lizzie Borden House but when hubby and ran right past it and I glanced a it I decided it wasn’t worth the $18.00/each for the tour. No. Not really.

Then Donna, Al, and us parted ways. We were off to Provincetown.

We got a bit lost. Not too much. Honestly, there are only 2 routes to P-town; the highway (Route 6) and the scenic route (Route 6A). That’s it. We ended up going over the Sagamore Bridge and taking 6A. No worries. Until we got about 25 miles outside of Provincetown and the fog was thicker than pea soup. It was bad. All I could think of was the movie “The Fog” but I refrained from making such references. The closer to our destination we got the thicker the fog became. I started to worry until we passed…I swear to all that’s holy…Aeries Lane.

I thought; OK, I’ll take it.

I heard an echo; You better.

In the end, The Masthead called us when we were still a half-hour out to find out what the hold was! LOL. That thought never occurred to either of us, we’re such City Folk, the front desk is always open!

Just after their phone call I had the strangest feeling as we passed from real land to the dunes and the ocean. Father and Poseidon argued a bit in my head. I won’t bore you with the details.

We arrived, hauled our stuff inside, and we crashed!

We woke on Saturday to.


Then we began our journey. We went to the beach and to the dunes. I haven’t been able to capture them well here with my camera. Suffice it to say that all along ‘the hook’ are mini mountains of sand. Trees and grass grow out of them. You might think they were dirt. They’re sand!

We got breakfast at Far Land and it was very tasty. It’s hard to find breakfast in Provincetown during the off season. But we managed. We pulled up, hubby got out, he went to the hatch, he opened it and said: “Here Pooh-Bah, take your coat.”

I got out about to tell him that I didn’t need my winter coat then grabbed it from his hand. It was freakin’ COLD!






The sand isn’t like the sand in my neck of the woods. No, that’s some THICK shit! We walked all the way down to the shore and I said to him: “Merry, it’s a lot further than it looks.”

He said to me; “Come on, Pippin.”

So we walked ALL the way down to where the ocean, the real ocean–the edge of Poseidon’s Realm– not the Long Island Sound, crashed against the shore.

Then we headed into Provincetown. For those wondering, my mother’s family came from Provincetown by way of Portugal before the turn of the 20th century. I spent some time in the Fall or late Spring up there visiting my uncle, Philip Days.


We went to the bakery where I picked up two loaves of sweet break.


We went to Cabots where I picked up that taffy and some yummy chocolate/walnut fudge.


This wall is full of cutouts made by the artist and it’s on the side of a tattoo parlor. There must be 200 cutouts on it. It’s really quite cool.


Art in a private yard. This wall was awesome. It was hand laid with all types of stones including chunks of rose quartz, amethyst, geodes, and more.

The library

Yeah, that’s Pilgrim’s Monument in the background. We climbed that sucker the last time but not this time.



Those are the streets. As can see they were made more for horse and buggy than SUVs. We were going down the street and hubby said: “Pull in the mirror.”
So I opened my window and pushed on the mirror.
He groaned and said: “Pull it in.”
So I moved my hand to pull instead of push on the glass.
“No, no, no, the whole thing. Pull it in.”
I was confused. I had no idea the sideview mirrors on the Pathfinder folded inward. It’s a darn good thing they did or we could have lost one or both!


On Saturday night The Great Food Adventure continued




Only a few small words to say about this place; BEST shrimp cocktail and Fish n Chips EVER! Usually jumbo shrimp are tough and stingy but not here. The fish was so incredibly light, flaky, juicy, and not at all ‘fishy’ that I dub this place the Pepe’s Pizza of Fish n Chips! Hubby practically inhaled his Shrimp Scampi! LOL! So, if you visit P-town you simply must go! Make a reservation! Try to get ‘the water view room’.

There was sunset at Herring Beach





I tried to get some good shots of the dunes but didn’t do so good. They’re everywhere. They’re these mini-mountains of sand that could easily be mistaken for mounds of dirt in some spots as they have grass and trees growing out of them.



We went to the docks.

Far too soon it was time to put our feet back on the road and travel home.

It was nice adventure while it lasted. I hope to do it again before not too long.

30 years together. On our wedding day both our families gave us ‘6 months’.


Joke’s on them. They’re all dead. We’re still here.


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