An Interesting Evening with Hubby & The Big Guy

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It’s been a weird day. It has. BUT, it’s the second Tuesday of the month which means it’s Test Day at my job and Test Day is always a bit of a challenge. On the job and off. What can I say? The Gods have a twisted sense of humor.

So to make up for the weird day, hubby decided we should go out to dinner. Sounded good to me. We decided on Fred’s Shanty. We haven’t been there yet this year and even though it’s not Friday I was dying for some fish ‘n chips. Never had theirs. Thought I’d try it. It was still early so we went for a ride and ended up Harkness Park. That’s some place else we haven’t been yet this year. It’s still early in the season (which means you don’t have to pay to get in) the gardens are really just gearing up for their big show. A walk sounded nice.

Ha Ha Ha

The Daffodils were still in bloom and hubby said: “Go over there and sit in the flowers, I’ll take your picture like I did a few years ago.”


Before anyone thinks I trampled on the flowers…I did not. They’re not as closely grouped as they look from a distance.


I took hubby’s picture


We walked a little ways to the nearest garden. I love the main garden it’s absolutely gorgeous in late spring and summer but this little garden is my favorite. No flowers yet but




Those stones are under these beautiful Japanese Maple trees


We exited the garden. I took a picture of the tower


We started walking down the main lawn past the side of the mansion


Hubby said: “Look, Pooh-Bah, there’s a Sub going out.”

I said: “Where?”

I looked where he was pointing and I saw it. I’ve lived here 50 years and never once gotten a good shot of a Sub going out or coming in. After all this time I’ve kind of given up on the idea. I figure it’s just my shot to get. But I wanted to try and I started walking down the main lawn with him when my calves said:

Yeah, we don’t think so.

Agony! I’ve worn high heels for 30+ years and over the last 5 or so years tapered off from high heels to a 3 inch heel to a 1 inch heel and finally these last few months to flats. Hasn’t done me a damn bit of good. Nope. We walked a ways and we walked a ways and finally I said: “I have to sit down.”

Hubby said: “There’s a bench over there.”

Don’t you dare! Don’t sit! Keep going. Don’t sit!

I know he’s right. If I sit it only gets worse when I get up again. If I do my best to push through it eventually the utter agony in my legs goes away. But not tonight. We sat on the bench and I took some pictures.





My legs tingled and before they could stop I got up and we got walking again. Trust me when I tell you that this is just NO fun for me. I can’t even walk up the hill that is my street without bursting into tears anymore. BUT, like on the Cape, if I have something that’s really catching my interest and I’m excited about then I can get my Second Wind pretty easily and soon my calves are too numb for me to notice I can’t feel them.😛

Usually I’d like to walk down to the platform by the beach and take photographs but that seemed way too far. We cut through the front of the main garden where I scared the hell out of some doves as I was winding my way down the path to the Coy Pond to see if there were any fish in it. I guess the doves were hoping for a fish dinner too. Sorry about that.

Oh, geez, my legs hurt!

Keep going. Don’t you dare sit down. Look! Flowers! Fountain! Look! Picture time!







We made it out of the main garden and headed back toward the parking lot.


At the end of the big driveway, just before the entrance to the parking lot was a lovely bench under a big tree. My calves were killing me.

Don’t you do it. You don’t even see it!

Quite right

I kept my eyes firmly planted on the car and counted the steps until I reached it without stopping. I know that doesn’t sound like a big accomplishment to most of you but when you consider the time I’ve worn heels and ALL the years I’ve SAT at a desk for my job AND writing, well, perhaps the picture becomes a little clearer for you.:)

I plopped myself onto the passenger’s seat so completely grateful for its welcoming softness. We headed to Fred’s Shanty where something slightly unusual happened.

We arrived. We actually parked in front of the place. There was only person ahead of us. We waited. We ordered. It was a bit a chilly. We got back in the car to await being called to pick up our order. Somewhere between 6 and 9 men dressed in…what looked like military gear…walked up to the window in front of the car. There’s not too much unusual about that in this area except, for all their guns, ammo, tactical vests, radios and such, they didn’t have any insignia on their gear. They didn’t act much like military personnel. There didn’t seem to be a leader among them.

I looked at hubby. He looked at me and said: “Do you want to get it to go?”


Connecticut is a….

Concealed Weapons State, you know that, except for Law Enforcement and Military.


Does Connecticut actually have a militia?

Stop it.

What? Do we?

“Look at their guns,” said hubby pointing out the windshield, “they have blue tape on them and the ammo clips, they’re blanks.”

Yeah, whoop-whoop. I saw Die Hard 2 as well. And, ya know, anybody can put a bit of blue tape on a gun. I kept looking and looking and looking for anything that would suggest these people didn’t buy their gear at the local Army/Navy Surplus Store or, ya know, Ebay. I couldn’t see one thing that made me believe they were legit. Even their deportment didn’t lend itself to an air of legitimate military personnel.

“Trump’s Brave New World,” joked hubby

“Yeah, whatever, they are NOT making me feel safe. Not at all.”

“You ok?”

“I’ve written this scene, you know, it’s fucking terrifying. It doesn’t end well for any of us.”

Shut up. Not another word. Quiet, you. You heard him, see the blue…

Fuck you. I got blue tape at home too. Big deal.

I heard the guy in the truck next to us laugh. He got out of his truck. Dumped the remains of his dinner and promptly left.

Hubby asked again: “Do you want to get it to go? We’ll take it home and watch a movie.”


“No, they’re not chasing me out of here.”

We got sat and discussed a bit longer and I said I might like to start exercising my Second Amendment Right. I thought hubby’s jaw would hit the floor. I suggested he take me to a gun range. He turned WHITE. Then he ventured: “They’re in tactical gear…”

“Their heads aren’t. I saw Zombieland. Double-tap, bitch, head shots. Knees look vulnerable too.”

“Oh my God,” groaned hubby.

The nice lady called our number.

Hubby went to the window and got out food. “Pooh-Bah, get the ketchup.”

That meant I had to walk through all of those armed (maybe with blanks) men in tactical gear with no insignia.

Shut up. Don’t you dare!



I filled two cups of ketchup, one mustard, and one malt vinegar for my fish. I brought them back to the table and we started eating but I didn’t take my eyes off that group of men. Eventually each of them went up to the window, got their orders to go and walked off. Walked. A while later there was noise on the river and hubby said: “Look, that’s them in the gun boats that accompanied the Sub we saw. See? It’s ok.”

I saw the boats. I heard the boats…they were frakin’ loud. I couldn’t make out who was on them or if they had any to-go meals. “Ah-huh, why are they making a U-turn?” I went back to my meal–not as good as the fish ‘n chips on the Cape, no, not. Hubby had no answer. “If EB blows up in the next few minutes don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Thankfully there were no explosions. This time. As we left I said: “Where is the nearest gun range?”

“Get in the car,” said hubby.

Not you. Never you. No way. You are never even to hold a real gun, you got that?


I know, you don’t even know why you work with me anymore.

Anymore? Sometimes I can’t remember why I even started.

Me either. Where’s that gun range?

At that point I could actually hear him ripping the dark hair on his head out by the root.

It could be a few days before The Big Guy talks to me again! In reality, face it, with my legs I CAN’T RUN so I might as well be armed. I found the gun range and the nearest gun shop. I have a clean record, baby. The only thing stopping me is the fear that if I go through with it, The Big Guy will actually NEVER talk to me again.😛

SJWs and Cultural ‘Appropriation’

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Ok, so it’s no secret that several of my stories are FREE on Smashwords until June 1st. Well, if you’re smart and you can find the coupon code that’s right on my site you can get them FREE.

Many people have downloaded them.


Three people over the course of four days have emailed me railing that I’m guilty of ‘Cultural Appropriation’ because I’m not Greek.

Yeah, they got FREE stories and decided to trash me. Fine.

I’m almost 50. I’m a writer. I’m white. I’m a woman. Most of all I’m an American. Oh, yeah, an Irish/Scottish/German/Portuguese/Native American woman. Didn’t know that last part, did ya? I am. But all these people see in me is a white woman. Therefore, according to the SJWs I shouldn’t be writing about Greek culture or Greek Gods or even anyone of Greek descent. I’m stealing their culture. I’m ‘marginalizing’ them. How dare I!

Mostly, and it made me laugh each time; how dare I turn Ares into a hero! The bloodthirsty God of War. According to them he has no heart. Never did. Never will. He should always be the villain. I have NO IDEA what I’m TALKING ABOUT!

Never mind the fact that I have enlisted the aid of my Greek friends to help me with a lot of the stuff in these stories and they didn’t seem to mind that I’m just white ex-Catholic. (Thank you Cathy! Your help and support is invaluable to me!) Never mind the fact that I’ve bent a knee to Ares longer than most of these SJWs have drawn breath on this good Earth. That he is my Patron and Aphrodite is my Patroness. That doesn’t matter. Only blood does.

As an adoptee I’m highly insulted and annoyed that anyone out there is still so small minded as to believe such bullshit. But…ok.

Never mind that never once in over 30 years did I ever have this particularly politically correct problem until just recently.

Millennials. Gods how I hate them. Seriously. I really do.

Let this post serve as notice that “Prodigal Son” is the absolute last story in the Sister Christian series. ‘Nick Jackson’ fans, if you’re out there, you won’t have him after this story. He’ll be gone. I may even have to kill him off if this shit keeps up. Sorry. I really don’t want to do that and I feel that, as a writer, it’s completely up to me what happens to him and Hannah. It isn’t for any uninformed misguided SJW to judge, at least not without first actually buying a ticket to the show. I’d like to let anyone out there know that, yes, there probably IS one tiny short story and maybe one novella/novel left for our friend Ares and his lovely wife Alena.

After that I’ll stick to writing about white people in their 50’s with more life experience than any 20-something SJW can possibly even hope to have at this stage of their meager lives. ALL future characters of mine will be WHITE. You won’t have more Pauline DePoix’s (a black male transvestite and a very high-powered literary agent who helped introduce Lizzie Love to, well, Elizabeth Love) or Charlie’s ( an ex=-military man, tough as nails, trying to help Raven rebuild a shattered world) or Ares or Nick’s or any Greek God.

Nope. All gone. I swear there won’t be any ‘diversity’ in any future stories.

All of my characters will be middle-aged WHITE FOLK facing the trials and tribulations this stage of life presents. I know, people of color may not be able to relate. People of other ancestries may not be able to relate. For that I’m truly sorry. As an AMERICAN and a writer I truly believe the First Amendment applies to ME…my mistake, I know. My bad. Don’t worry, I’ll never beg forgiveness.

Who knows? Perhaps one day when an SJW reaches my stage of life they’ll look at my stories and go; “Oh shit! THAT’S what she was talking about!”

It could happen.

Not holding my breath but it could happen.

(Fucking freeloaders. I hate them.)

Of Course You Know This Means War

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The movie is awesome. Seriously. It is. It’s just about everything you could ever possibly want in a movie like this.:)

Don’t worry, I won’t giveaway any spoilers. Let’s just say that if you’re dying to see this movie…go. See it. And, yeah, you probably should have bought your tickets a few weeks (months) ago. Fandango is totally rad. Love that site.

Of course the most important thing about going to a movie like this, especially when Luxury Seating is involved, is where you sit in the theater that happens to be packed. Not an empty seat anywhere. I kinda doubt that anyone was there to see anything else. Not just our theater was packed…the entire place was jammed with people in ‘Avengers’ gear. I was lucky enough to get us two tickets in the second-to-last row. This allowed me to watch the whole thing without turning my head or craning my neck once. The older I get the more my neck hurts so that was a very good thing.

I missed “Thor” and “Hulk”, I don’t know why they weren’t there. I was introduced to “Black Panther”, “Ant Man”, and the new “Spiderman”. I don’t like Spidey, never did and probably never will. The new kid’s cute…and he is a kid so they got that part right anyway. “Ant Man” is really weird. Still considering whether or not I like him. “Black Panther”….very cool and hot at the same time. I could see more of that character. I wouldn’t mind at all. “Vision” is starting to grow on me kinda like a fungus but that could change. Maybe. Jury’s still out on that one too.

I do have a question for the people at Marvel: What the hell are you doing to “Tony Stark”? Why have you turned my favorite irreverent, billionaire, genius, philanthropist, playboy, into a wimp??? This is not the “Tony Stark” of the “Iron Man” movies or even the first “Avenger” flick. So, what’s the deal, man? I understand that the crux of the whole movie is that Tony feels bad for having created “Ultron” but still…get over it. The only reason “Ultron” was ever created is because they started turning Tony into a wimp in “Iron Man 3”. I say we need “Iron Man 4” so he can get his groove back. And his balls. However, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him toward the end of the movie, it’s true, I did. No, I won’t tell you what happened but I didn’t see it coming. It was a bit of a shock as a long-held mystery was finally solved. Still the old “Tony Stark”, the real “Tony Stark” who once said he was ‘trying to play ball with these ass-clowns’ would never have gone along with what the governments of the world wanted in this movie. Ever. I was disappointed on that score.

I was also a bit disappointed with who the bad guy turned out to be. Yeah, I understood his motivation (sort of) but I always like it better when major players turn out to have a real connection. Never care much for them when they’re just Joe Schmo. No, not too much. A better motivation and ultimately a better character would have been the one I was thinking and hoping he was but he was not. The way he did things and pulled things off would have made a lot more sense.

I was disappointed but remain hopeful with regard to “Bucky”. This was not the ending I wanted. Not at all. But I’m keeping my chin up and hoping this is not The End for my buddy. After all, he’s the whole reason I went to see the damn movie and looked forward to it with such anticipation for so long. Like ya know, since the credits rolled on “Winter Soldier”.:)

But the entire production is First Rate and except for those personal points it doesn’t fail to deliver. It’s completely worth the price of admission and then some. I can’t wait to add it to our movie collection along with “Deadpool” which comes to home release in 4 days. I’m hoping for an extended/unrated edition with a gag reel.

Aunty Moon gives “Captain America: Civil War” an A.


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